VIRGIDEMIARVM The three last Bookes. Of byting Satyres. Corrected and amended with some Additions. by. I. H.
Imprinted at London for Robert Dexter, at the signe of the Brasen Serpent in Paules Church yard. 1599.
The Authors charge to his Satyres.
YE luck-lesse Rymes, whom not vnkindly spight
Begot long since of Trueth and holy Rage,
Lye heere in wombe of Silence and still Night
Vntill the broyles of next vnquiet age:
That which is others graue shalbe your wombe,
And that which beares you, your eternall Toombe.
Cease ere ye gin, and ere ye liue be dead,
And dye and liue ere euer ye be borne,
And be not bore, ere ye be buried,
Then after liue, sith you haue dy'd beforne,
When I am dead and rotten in the dust,
Then gin to liue, and leaue when others lust.
For when I die, shall Enuie die with mee
And lye deepe smothered with my Marble-stone,
Which while I liue cannot be done to dye,
Nor, if your life gin ere my life be done,
Will hardly yeeld t'await my mourning hearse.
But for my dead corps change my liunig verse.
What shall the ashes of my senselesse vrne,
Neede to regard the rauing world aboue.
Sith afterwards I neuer can returne
To feele the force of hatred or of loue?
Oh if my soule could see their Post-hume spight
Should it not ioy and triumph in the sight?
What euer eye shalt finde this hatefull scrole
After the date of my deare Exequies,
Ah pitty thou my playning Orphanes dole
That faine would see the sunne before it dies:
It dy'de before, now let it liue againe,
Then let it die, and bide some famous bane.
‘Satis est potuisse videri.’
SAT. 1.
Che baiar vuol, bai.
VVHO dares vpbraid these open rimes of mine
With blindfold Aquines, or darke Venusine?
Or rough-hew'ne Teretismes writ in th'antique vain
Like an old Satyre, and new Flaccian?
Which who reads thrise, & rubs his rugged brow,
And deepe intendeth euery doubtfull row,
Scoring the margent with his blazing stars
And hundreth crooked interlinears,
(Like to a Merchants debt-role new defac't
When some crack'd Manour crost his book at last)
Should all in rage the Curse-beat Page out-riue,
And in ech dust-heape bury mee aliue
Stamping like Bucephall, whose slackned raines,
And bloody fet-lockes fry with seuen mens braines;
More cruell than the crauon Satyres Ghost,
That bound dead bones vnto a burning post,
Or some more strait-lac'd Iuror of the rest,
Impannel'd of an Holy-Fax inquest;
Yet wel bethought stoops downe, and reads a new:
The best lieslow, and loathes the shallow view,
Quoth old Eudemon, when his gout-swolne fist
Gropes for his double Ducates in his chist:
Then buckle close his carelesse lyds once more,
To pose the pore-blinde snake of Epidaore.
That Lyncius may be match't with Gaulards sight,
That sees not Paris for the houses height;
Or wilie Cyppus, that can winke and snort
Whiles his wife dallies on Maecenas skort;
Yet when hee hath my crabbed Pamphlet red
As often times as PHILLIP hath beene dead,
Bids all the Furies haunt each peeuish line
That thus haue rackt their friendly readers eyne;
Worse than the Logogryphes of later times,
Or Hundreth Riddles shak't to sleeue-lesse rimes;
Should I endure these curses and dispight
While no mans eare should glow at what I write?
Labeo is whip't, and laughs mee in the face:
Why? for I smite and hide the galled place.
Gird but the Cynicks Helmet on his head,
Careshee for Talus, or his flayle of lead?
Long as the craftie Cuttle lieth sure
In the blacke Cloude of his thicke vomiture;
Who list complaine of wronged faith or fame
When hee may shift it to anothers name?
Caluus can scratch his elbow, and can smile,
That thrift-lesse Pontice bites his lip the while.
Yet I intended in that selfe deuise,
To checke the churle for his knowne couetise.
Ech points his straight fore-finger to his friend,
Like the blind Diall on the Belfrey end:
Who turnes it homeward to say, this is I,
As bolder Socrates in the Comedy?
But single out, and say once plat and plaine
That coy Matrona is a Curtizan,
Or thou false Cryspus chokd'st thy wealthie guest
Whiles hee lay snoring at his midnight rest,
And in thy dung-cart did'st the carkasse shrine
And deepe intombe it in Port-esquiline.
Proud Trebius liu's for all his princely gate
On third-hand suits, and scrapings of the plate.
Titius knew not where to shroude his head
Vntill hee did a dying widow wed
Whiles she lay doting on her deathes bed,
And now hath purchas'd lands with one nights paine
And on the morrow woes and weds againe.
Now see I fire-flakes sparkle from his eyes
Like a Comets tayle in th'angry skies,
His pouting cheeks puffe vp aboue his brow
Like a swolne Toad touch't with the Spyders blow;
His mouth shrinks sideward like a scornefull Playse
To take his tired Eares ingratefull place.
His Eares hang lauing like a new-lug'd swine
To take some counsell of his grieued eyne.
Now laugh I loud, and breake my splene to see
This pleasing pastime of my poesie,
Much better than a Paris-garden Beare,
Or prating puppet on a Theatere,
Or Mimoes whistling to his tabouret
Selling a laughter for a cold meales meate.
Go to then ye my sacred Semones,
And please me more, the more ye do displease;
Care we for all those bugs of ydle feare?
For Tigels grinning on the Theater,
Or scar-babe threatnings of the rascal crue,
Or wind-spent verdicts of each Ale-knights view?
What euer brest doth freeze for such false dread,
Beshrow his base white liuer for his meede.
Fond were that pitie, and that feare were sin,
To spare wast leaues that so deserued bin.
Those toothlesse Toyes that dropt out by mis-hap,
Bee but as lightning to a thunder-clap:
Shall then that foule infamous Cyneds hide
Laugh at the purple wales of others side?
Not, if hee were as neere, as by report,
The stewes had wont to be to the Tenis-court,
Hee that while thousands enuie at his bed,
Neighs after Bridals, and fresh-mayden heade;
While slauish Iuno dares not looke awry
To frowne at such imperious riualrye,
Not tho shee sees her wedding Iewels drest
To make new Bracelets for a strumpets wrest,
Or like some strange disguised Messaline,
Hires a nights lodging of his concubine;
Whether his twilight-torch of loue do call
To reuils of vncleanly Musicall,
Or midnight plaies, or Tauerns of new wine,
Hy ye white Aprons to your Land-Lords signe;
When all, saue tooth-lesse age or infancie,
Are summon'd to the Court of Venerie.
Who list excuse? when chaister dames can hyre,
Some snout-faire stripling to their Apple-squire:
Whom staked vp like to some stallion-steede
They keepe with Egs and Oysters for the breede.
O Lucine! barren Caia hath an heire
After her husband's dozen yeares despaire.
And now the bribed Mid-wife sweares apace,
The bastard babe doth beare his fathers face.
But hath not Lelia past hir virgine yeares?
For modest shame (God wot) or penall feares.
He tels a Merchant tidings of a prise,
That tels Cynedo of such nouelties,
Worth little lesse than landing of a Whale,
Or Gades spoyles, or a churles funerale:
Go bid the baines and point the bridall day,
His broking Baud hath got a noble prey,
A vacant tenement, an honest dowre
Can fit his pander for her paramoure,
That hee, base wretch, may clog his wit-old head
And giue him hansell of his Hymen-bed.
Ho! all ye Females that would liue vnshent
Fly from the reach of Cyneds regiment.
If Trent be drawne to dregs, and Low refuse,
Hence ye hot lechour, to the steaming stewes.
Tyber the famous sinke of Christendome
Turn thou to Thames, & Thames rūn towards Rome:
What euer damned streame but thine were meete
To Quench his lusting liuers boyling heate?
Thy double draught may quench his dog-daies rage
With some stale Bacchis, or obsequious page,
When writhen Lena makes her sale-set showes
Of wooden Venus with faire limned browes;
Or like him more some vailed Matrons face,
Or trained prentise trading in the place:
The close adultresse, where her name is red
Coms crauling from her husbands lukewarme bed,
Her carrion skin bedaub'd with odours sweete,
Groping the postern with her bared feet.
Now play the Satyre who so list for mee,
Valentine selfe, or some as chast as hee.
In vaine she wisheth long Alchmanaes night,
Cursing the hasty dawning of the light,
And with her cruell Ladie-starre vprose
Shee seekes hir third roust on her silent toes,
Besmeared all with loathsome smoke of lust
Like Acherons steemes, or smoldring sulphur dust:
Yet all day sits shee simpring in her mew
Like some chast dame, or shrined saynct in shew,
Whiles hee lies wallowing with a westiehed
And palish carkasse, on his Brothel-bed,
Till his salt bowels boyle with poysonous fire,
Right Hercules with his second Deianire.
O Esculape! how rife is Phisicke made,
When ech Brasse-basen can professe the trade
Of ridding pockie wretches from their paine,
And doe the beastly cure for ten-groats gaine?
Al these & more, deserue some blood-drawne lines:
But my sixe Cords beene of too loose a twine.
Stay till my beard shall sweepe myne aged brest,
Then shall I seeme an awfull Satyrist:
While now my rimes relish of the Ferule still,
Some nose-wise Pedant saith; whose deepe-sene skil
Hath three times construed either Flaccus ore,
And thrise rehears'd them in his Triuiall floare,
So let them taxe mee for my hote-bloodes rage,
Rather than say I doted in my age.
SAT. 2.
Arcades ambo.
OLD driueling Lolio drudges all he can,
To make his eldest sonne a Gentleman.
Who can despaire that sees another thriue,
By lone of twelue-pence to an Oyster-wiue?
When a craz'd scaffold, and a rotten stage,
Was all rich Naenius his heritage.
Nought spendeth he for feare, nor spares for cost:
And all he spendes and spaires beside is lost;
Himselfe goes patched like some bare Cottyer,
Least he might ought the future stocke appeyre.
Let giddie Cosmius change his choyce aray,
Like as the Turke his Tents thirse in a day.
And all to sun and ayre his suites vntold
From spitfull mothes, and frets, and hoary mold,
Bearing his paune-layd lands vpon his backe
As Snailes their shels, or Pedlers do their packe:
Who cannot shine in tissues and pure gold,
That hath his lands and patrimony sold?
Lolioes side-cote is [...]ough Pampilian
Guilded with drops that downe the bosome ran,
White Carsy hose, patched on eyther knee,
The very Embleme of good husbandrie,
And a knit night-cap made of coursest twine,
With two long labels button'd to his chin;
So rides he mounted on the market-day
Vpon a straw-stuft pannel, all the way,
With a maund charg'd with houshold marchandise
With egs, or white-meate, from both Dayries:
And with that byes he rost for sunday-noone,
Proud how he made that weeks prouision:
Else is he stall-fed on the worky-day
With browne-bread crusts softened in sodden whey,
Or water-grewell, or those paups of meale
That Maro makes his Simule, and Cybeale:
Or once a weeke perhaps for nouelty,
Reez'd Bacon: soords shall feast his familie;
And weens this more than one egge cleft in twaine
To feast some patrone and his Chappelaine;
Or more than is some hungry gallants dole,
That in a dearth runs sneaking to an hole,
And leaues his man and dog to keepe his hall
Least the wilde roome should run forth of the wall.
Good man him list nor spend his idle meales
In quinsing Plouers, or in wining Quales;
Nor toot in Cheap side baskets earne and late please
To set the first tooth in some nouell-cate.
Let sweete-mouth'd Mercia bid what crowns she
For halfe-fed Cherries, or greene garden pease,
Or the first Artichoks of all the yeare,
To make so lauish cost for little cheare:
When Lolio feasteth in his reueling fit,
Some sterued Pullen scoures the rusted spitt.
For else how should his sonne maintained bee,
At Ins of Court or of the Chancerie:
There to learne Law, and courtly carriage,
To make amendes for his meane parentage,
Where he vnknowne and ruffling as he can,
Goes currant each-where for a Gentleman?
What Brokers lousy wardrop cannot reach,
With tissued paines to pranck ech peasants breech?
Couldst thou but giue the wall, the cap, the knee,
To proud Sartorio that goes stradling by,
Wer't not the needle pricked on his sleeue
Doth by good hap the secret watch-word giue?
But hear'st thou Lolioes sonne, gin not thy gate,
Vntill the euening Oule or bloody-Batt.
Neuer vntill the lamps of Paules beene light,
And niggard lanternes shade the Moon-shine night,
Then when the guiltie bankrupt in bolde dreade,
From his close Cabin thrusts his shrinking heade,
That hath beene long in shady shelter pent
Imprisoned for feare of prisonment.
May be some russet-cote Parochian
Shall call thee cosen, friend, or countryman,
And for thy hoped fist crossing the streete,
Shall in thy fathers name his God-son greett,
Could neuer man worke thee a worser shame
Then once to minge thy fathers odious name,
Whose mention were alike to thee as leeue,
As a Catch-pols fist vnto a Bankrupts sleeue;
Or an, Hos ego, from old Petrarchs spright
Vnto a Plagiarie sonnet-wright.
There soone as he can kisse his hand in gree,
And with good grace bow it below the knee,
Or make a Spanish face with fauning cheere,
With th' Iland-Conge like a Caualier,
And shake his head, and cringe his necke and side,
Home hyes he in hisf athers Farme to bid.
The Tenants wonder at their land-Lords Sonne,
And blesse them at so sudden comming on,
More then who vies his pence to view some tricke
Of stranges Moroccoes dumbe Arithmeticke,
Or the young Elephant, or two-tayl'd steere,
Or the rig'd Camell, or the Fidling Frere.
Nay then his Hodge shallleaue the plough & waine,
And buy a booke, and go to schoole againe:
Why mought not he as well as others done,
Rise from his Festuc to his Littleton?
Fooles, they may feed with words & liue by ayre,
That climbe to honour by the Pulpits stayre:
Sit seauen yeates pining in an Anchores cheyre,
To win some parched shreds of Miniuere,
And seuen more plod at a Patrons tayle,
To get a gelded Chappels cheaper sayle.
Old Lolio sees and laugheth in his sleeue,
At the great hope they and his state doe giue.
But that which glads and makes him proud'st of all,
Is when the brabling neighbours on him call,
For counsell in some crabbed case of law,
Or some Indentments, or some bond to draw:
His Neighbours goose hath grazed on his Lea,
What action mought be entred in the plea?
So new falne lands haue made him in request,
That now he lookes as lofty as the best.
And well done Lolio, like a thrifrie syre,
T'were pitty but thy sonne should prooue a squire.
How I fore see in many ages past,
When Lolioes caytiue name is quite defa'st,
Thine heire, thine heyres heyre, & his heyre againe
From out the loynes of carefull Lolian,
Shall climbe vp to the Chancell pewes on hie,
And rule and raigne in their rich Tenancie;
When pearch't aloft to perfect their estate
They racke their rents vnto a treble rate;
And hedge in all the neighbour common-lands,
And clodge their slauish tenant with commaunds,
Whiles they, poore soules, with feeling sighs cōplain
And wish old Lolio were aliue againe,
And praise his gentle soule and wish it well
And of his friendly facts full often tell.
His father dead, tush, no it was not hee,
He findes recordes of his great pedigree,
And tels how first his famous Ancestor
Did come in long since with the Conquerour.
Nor hath some bribed Herald first assign'd
His quartered Armes and crest of gentle kinde,
The Scottish Barnacle (if I might choose)
That of a worme doth waxe a winged goose;
Nathelesse some hungry squire for hope of good
Matches the churles Sonne into gentle blood,
Whose sonne more iustly of his gentry boasts
Than who were borne at two pide painted postes;
And had some traunting Merchant to his syre
That trafiqu'd both by water and by fyre.
O times! since euer Rome did Kings create,
Brasse Gentlemen, and Caesars Laureate.
SAT. 3. Fuimus Troës. VEL Vix ea nostra.
VVHat boots it Pontice, tho thou could'st discourse
Of a long golden line of Ancestors?
Or shew their painted faces gaylie drest,
From euer since before the last conquest;
Or tedious Bead-roles of descended blood,
From Father Iaphet since Deucalions flood,
Or call some old Church-windowes to record
The age of thy fayre Armes,
Or find some figures halfe obliterate
In rain-beat Marble neare to the Church-gate,
Vpon a Crosse-leg'd Toombe: what boots it thee
To shew the rusted Buckle that did tie
The Garter of thy greatest Grand sires knee?
What to reserue their reliques many yeares,
Their siluer-spurs, or spils of booken speares;
Or cyte olde Oclands verse, how they did weild
The wars in Turwin, or in Turney field?
And if thou canst in picking strawes engage,
In one halfe day thy fathers heritage,
Or hide what euer treasures he the got,
In some deepe Cock-pit; or in desperate Lot
Vpon a sixe-square peece of Iuorie,
Throw both thy selfe, and thy posteritie?
Or if (O shame!) in hired Harlots bed
Thy wealthie heyre-dome thou haue buried:
Then Pontice little boots thee to discourse
Of a long golden line of Ancestors.
Ventrous Fortunio his farme hath sold,
And gads to Guiane land to fish for gold,
Meeting perhaps, if Orenoque denye,
Some stragling pinnace of Polonian Rie.
Then comes home floting with a silken sayle,
That Seuerne shaketh with his Canon-peale;
Wiser Raymundus in his closet pent,
Laughs at such danger and aduenturement;
When halfe his lands are spent in golden smoke,
And now his second hopefull glasse is broke.
But yet if haply his third fornace hold,
Devoteth all his pots and pans to gold;
So spend thou Pontice, if thou canst not spare,
Like some stout sa-man or Philosopher;
And were thy fathers gentle? that's their praise,
No thanke to thee by whom their name decays;
By vertue got they it, and valourous deed,
Do thou so Pontice, and be honoured:
But else looke how their vertue was their owne,
Not capable of propagation,
Right so their titles beene, nor can be thine,
Whose ill deserts might blanke their golden line.
Tell me, thou gentle Troian; dost thou prise
Thy brute beasts worth by their dams qualities?
Say'st thou this Colt shall prooue a swift-pac'd steed
Onely because a Iennet did him breed?
Or say'st thou this same Horsse shall win the prize,
Because his dame was swiftest Trunchefice,
Or Runceuall his Syre; himselfe a Gallaway?
Whiles like a tireling Iade he lags half-way;
Or whiles thou seest some of thy Stallion-race,
Their eyes boar'd out, masking the Millers-maze,
Like to a Scythian slaue sworne to the payle;
Or dragging froathy barrels at his tayle?
Albee wise Nature in her prouidence,
Wont in the want of reason and of sence,
Traduce the natiue vertue with the kind,
Making all brute and sencelesse things inclin'd,
Vnto their cause, or place where they were sowne
That one is like to all, and all like one.
Was neuer Foxe, but wylie cubs begets,
The Beare his feirce-nesse to hi [...] brood besets;
Nor f [...]arefull Hare fals out of Lyo [...]s seed,
Nor Eagle wont the tender Doue to breed;
Creet [...]u [...]r wont the Cypresse sad to beare,
Acheron banks the pal [...]sh Popelare;
The Palme doth rifely rise in Iury field,
And Alpheus wa [...]ers nought but Oliues wild.
Asopus br [...]ed [...] big-Bul-rushes alone,
Meander heath; Peaches by Nilus grown [...];
An English Wolfe, an Irish Toad to see,
Were as a chast-man nurs'd in Italy.
And now when Nature giues another guide,
To humane kind that in his bosome bides:
Ab [...]ue instinct, his reason and discourse,
His beeing better, is his life the worse?
Ah me! how s [...]ldome see we sonnes succe [...]d
Their Fathers praise in prowesse and great deed?
Yet certes if the Syre be ill inclin'd,
His faults befal his sonnes by course of kind.
Scaurus was couetous; his sonne not so,
But not his pared nayle will hee forgoe:
Flori [...]n the syre [...]id women loue ali [...]e,
And so his sonne doth too, all, but his wife:
Brag of thy Fathers faul [...]s, they are thine owne;
Brag of his lands, if those be not forgone:
Brag of thine owne good deeds, for they are thine,
More than his life, or lands, or golden line.
SAT. 4.
Plus beauque fort.
CAn I not touch some vpstart carper-shield
Of Lolio's sonne, that neuer saw the field [...]
Or taxe wild Pontice for his Luxuries,
B [...]t straight they tell mee of Tiresias eyes?
Or lucklesse Collingborns feeding of the crowes,
Or hundreth Sc [...]lps which Thames s [...]ill vnderflowes?
But straight Sigalion nods and knits his browes,
And winkes and wa [...]tes his warning hand for feare,
And lisps some silent letters in my eare?
Haue I not vow'd for shunning such d [...]bate
(Pardon ye Satyres) to deg [...]nerate?
And wading low in this pl [...]bei [...]n lake
That no salt waue shall froath vpon my backe,
L [...]t Labeo, or who else list for mee,
Go loose his eares and fall to Alchymie.
Onely, let Gallio giue me leaue a while
To schoole him once, or ere I change my style.
O lawlesse paunch the cause of much despight,
Through raunging of a currish appetite,
When splenish morsels cr [...]m the gaping Maw,
Withouten d [...]ets care, or trencher-law,
Tho neuer haue I [...]alerne [...]imes profest
To be some Ladies trencher-cri [...]icke guest;
Whiles each bit cooleth for the Oracle
Whose sentence charms it with a ryming spell;
Touch not this Coler, that M [...]lancholy
This bit were [...]rie and hote, that cold and d [...]y;
Yet can I set my Gallios d [...]ting,
Ape [...]tle of a Larke, or Plouers wing,
And warne him not to cast his wanton eyne
On grosser Bacon, or salt Haberdine,
Or dried Fli [...]hes of some smoked Beeue,
Hang'd on a writ [...]en wythe since Martins eue,
Or burnt Larkes heeles, or Rashers [...]aw and greene,
Or Melancholike liuer of an H [...]n,
Which stout Vor [...]no brags to make his feast,
A [...]d claps his hand on his braue Ostrige-breast;
Then fals to praise the [...]ardy Ianiz [...]r,
That sucks his horse side thirsting in the warre.
Las [...]ly to s [...]ale vp all that he hath spoke,
Quaffes a whole Tunnell of Tabacco smoke:
If Ma [...]tius in boystrous Buffes be drest,
Branded with Iron plates vpon the brest,
And pointed on the shoulders, for the nonce,
As new-come from the Belgian garrisons:
What shall thou need to enuie ought at that,
When as thou smellest like a Ciuet Cat;
When as thine oyled locks smooth platted fall,
Shining like varnisht pictures on a wall.
When a plum'd Fanne may shade thy chalked face,
And lawny strips thy naked bosome grace.
If brabling Make-fray at ech Fayre and Sise
Picks quarrel [...] for to show his valianti [...]e,
Straight pressed for an hungry Swizzers pay
To thrust his fist to ech part of the fray,
And piping hote puffes toward the pointed plaine
With a broad Scot, or proking spit of Spayne,
O [...] hoyseth sayle vp to a sorraine shore,
That he may liue a lawlesse Conquerer.
If some such desperate Hakster shall deuise
To rouze thine Hares-heart from her cowardise,
As idle children striuing to excell
In blowing bubles from an emptie shell;
Oh Hercules how like to proue a man,
That all so rath thy warlike life began?
Thy mother could thee for thy cradle set,
Her husbands rusty iron corselet;
Whose iargling sound might rocke her babe to rest
That neuer plain'd of his vneasie nest
There did he dreame of drery wars at hand,
And woke, and fought, & won, [...]re he could stand [...]
But who hath seene the Lambs of Tarenti [...]e,
May gesse what G [...]llio his manners beene;
All soft as is the falling thistle-downe,
Soft as the fu [...]e ball, or Morrians crowne;
Now Gallio, gins thy youthly heat to raigne
In euery vigorous limme, and swelling vaine,
Time bids the raise thine hedstrong thoughts on by
To valour and aduenterous chiualry;
Pawne thou no gloue for challenge of the deede,
Nor make thy Quintaine others armed head
T'enrich the waiting Herald with thy shame
And make thy losse, the scornefull scaffolds game [...]
Wars; God for [...]end; nay God defend from warre,
Soone are Sonns spent, that not soone reared are:
Gallio may pull me roses ere they fall,
Or in his net entrap the Tennis-ball:
Or tend his Spar-hauke mantling in her mew,
Or yelping Begles busy heeles persue,
Or watch a sinking corke vpon the shore,
Or halter Finches through a priuie doore,
Or list he spend the time in sportfull game,
In daily courting of his louely dame,
Hange on her lips, melt in her wanton eye,
Dance in her hand, ioy in her iollity,
Here's little perill, and much lesser paine,
So timely Hymen doe the rest restraine:
Hy wanton Gallio and wed betime,
Why should'st thou leese the pleasures of thy prime?
Seest thou the Rose-leaues fall vngathered?
Then hye thee wanton Gallio to wed:
Let Ring and Ferule meet vpon thine hand,
And Lucines girdle with her swathing-bands,
Hy thee and giue the w [...]ld yet one dwarfe more:
Such as it got when thou thy selfe wast bore:
Looke not for warning of thy bloomed chin,
Can neuer happines to soone begin;
Virginius vow'd to keepe his Mayden-head,
And eats cha [...]t Lettuce, and drinkes Poppy-seed,
And smels on Camphyre fasting: and that done,
L [...]ng hath he liu'd chast as a vayled Nunne,
Free as a new-absolued Damosell
That Frier Cornelius shriued in his Cell,
Till now he waxt a toothlesse Bacheler,
He thaw's like Chaucers frostie Ianiuere
And sets a months minde vpon smiling May.
And dyes his beard that did his age bewray;
Byting on Annis- [...]eede, and Rose-marine,
Which might the Fume of his rot lungs refine:
Now he in Charons barge a Bride doth seeke,
The maydens mocke, and call him withered Leeke,
That with a greene tayle hath an hoary head,
And now he would, and now he cannot wed [...]
SAT. 5.
Stupet Albius aere.
VVOuld now that Math [...] were the Satyrist,
That some fat bribe might greaze him in the fist,
[...]o [...] which he need not braule at any barre
Nor kis [...]e the booke to be a periurer;
Who else would s [...]orne his silence to haue sold,
And haue his tongue tyed with strings of Gold?
C [...]rius is dead, and buried long since,
And all that loued golden Abstinence:
Might he not well repine at his old fee,
Would he but spare to speake of vsurie?
Hir [...]lings enow beside, can be so base,
Tho we should scorne ech bribing varlets brasse;
Yet he and I could shun ech [...]ealous head,
Sticking our thumbs close to our girdle-stead,
Tho were they manicled behind our backe,
Anothers fist can serue our fees to take:
Yet pursy Euclio c [...]early smiling prayde,
That my sharpe words might curtal their side trade;
For thousands beene in euery gouernall [...]
That liue by losse, and rise by others fall.
What euer sickly sheepe so secret dies,
But some foule Ra [...]en hath bespoke his eyes?
What else makes N. when his lands are spent,
Go shaking like a threedbare malecontent.
Whose band-lesse Bonnet vailes his ore-grown chin
And sullen rags be wray his Morphew'd skin;
So [...]ships he to the woluish we [...]terne ile,
Among the sauage Kernes in sad exile;
Or in the Turkish wars at Caesars pay
To rub his life out till the latest day;
Another shifting Gallant to forecast,
To gull his Hostesse for a months repast,
With some gal'd Trunck ballac'd with straw & ston [...]
Left for the paune of his prouision;
Had F. shop lyen fallow but from hence,
His doores close seal'd as in some pestilence,
Whiles his light [...]eeles their fearfull flight can take,
To get some badg-lesse Blew vpon his backe?
Tocullio was a welthie v [...]urer,
Such store of incomes had he euery yeare,
By Bushels was he wont to met his [...]oyne
As did the olde wife of Trim [...]lcion [...]
Could he do [...] more that finds an idle roome,
For many hundreth thousands on a Toombe?
Or who reares vp foure free-schooles in his age,
Of his old pillage, and damn'd surplusage?
Yet now he swore by that sweere Crosse he kist,
(That siluer crosse, where hee had sacrific'd
His coueting soule, by his desires owne doome,
Daily to die the Diuels Martyrdome)
His Angels were all flowne vp to their sky,
And had forsooke his naked Tresurie:
Farewell Astraea and her weights of gold [...]
Vntill his lingring Calends once be told;
Nought left behind [...] but wax & parchment scroles
Like Lucians dreame that siluer turn'd to coles [...]
Shouldst thou him credit, that nould credit thee?
Yes and maiest sweare he swore the verity;
The ding-thrift heire, his shift-got summe mispent,
Comes drouping like a pennylesse penitent,
And beats his faint fist on Tocullios doore,
It lost the last and now must call for more.
Now hath the Spider caught a wandring Flie,
And drags her captiue at her cruell thie [...]
Soone is his arrand red in his pale face,
Which beares dumbe Characters of euery case,
So Cyneds dusky cheeke and fiery eye,
And hayre-les brow, tels where he last did lye;
So M [...]tho doth bewray his guilty thought,
While his pale face doth say, his cause is nought [...]
Seest thou the wary Angler trayle along
His feeble line, soone as some Pike too strong
Hath swallowed the bate that scornes the shore,
Yet now nearehand cannot resist no more:
So lyeth he aloofe in smooth pretence,
To hide his rough intended violence;
As he that vnder name of Christmas Cheere,
Can starue his Tenants all th'ensuing yeare:
Paper and wax (God wo [...]) a weake repay,
For such deepe debts, and down [...]ast sums as they;
Write, seale, deliuer, take, go, spend and speede,
And yet full heardly could his present need
Part with such summe; For but as yester-late
Did Furnus offer pen-worths at easie rate,
For small disbursment; He the bankes hath broke,
And needs mote now some further playne ore loo [...];
Yet ere he goe fame would he be releast:
Hy yo [...] ye Rauens, hy you to the feast;
Prouided that thy lands are leften [...]yre,
To be red [...]em'd or ere thy day expire;
Then shalt thou teare those idle paper-bonds,
That thus had fettered thy pawned lands.
Ah foole! For sooner shalt thou s [...]ll the rest,
Then stake ought for thy [...]ormer Interest;
Wh [...]n it shall grind thy grating gall for shame,
To see the lands that beare thy Grand [...]i [...]es name,
Become a dunghill peasants sommer-hall,
Or lonely Hermits cage inhospitall;
A pining Gourmand, an imperious slaue,
An hors [...]leech, barren womb, and gaping graue,
A legall thiefe, a bloud-lesse murtherer;
A feind inca [...]nate, a false Vsurer,
Albee such mayne extort s [...]orns to be pent
In the clay wals of thatched Tenement,
For certes no man of a low degree,
May bid two ghe [...]tes; or Gout, or Vsurie:
Vnlesse some base hedge-creeping Collybist
Scatters his refuse scraps on whom he list,
For Easter-gloues, or for a shroftide Hen,
Which bought to giue, he takes to [...]ell agen:
I doe not meane some glozing Merchants feate,
That laugheth at the cozened worlds deceipt,
When as an hundred stocks lie in his fist [...]
He leaks and sinkes, and breaketh when he list.
But, Nummius cas'd the needy Gallants care,
With a base ba [...]gaine of his blowen ware [...]
Of fusted hoppes now lost for lacke of sayle,
Or mo'ld browne-paper that could nought auaile:
Or what he cannot vtter otherwise,
May pleasure Fridoline for treble price.
Whiles his false broker lyeth in the wind,
And for a present Chapman is assign'd,
The cut [...]throte wretch for their compacted gaine,
Buyes all for but one quarter of the mayne;
Whiles if he chance to breake his deare-bought day [...]
And forfai [...] for default of due repay
His late intangled lands: Then Fridoline,
Buy thee a wallet, and go beg or pine [...]
If Mammon selfe should euer liue with men,
Mammon himselfe shalbe a Citizen.
SAT. 6.
Quid placet ergo?
I Wote not how the world's d [...]g [...]nerate,
That men or know, or like not their estate:
Out from the Gades vp to the Easterne morne,
Not one but holds his natiu [...] state forlorne.
When comely striplings wish it were their chance,
For Cae [...]is dista [...]e to exchange their Lance;
And we are curl'd P [...]riwigs, and chalke their face,
And still [...]re poring on their pock [...]t-glasse [...]
Tyr'd with pinn'd Ruff [...]s, & Fans, and partlet strips,
And Buskes, and Verdingales about their hips;
And tread on corked stilts [...] prison [...]s pace,
And make their Napkin for their spitting-place,
And gripe their wast within a narrow span:
Fond Caenis that would'dst wish to be a man;
Whose mannish Hus-wiues like their refuse state,
And make a drudge of their vxorius mate,
Who like a Cot-qu [...]ne freezeth at the rocke,
Whiles his breach't dame doth man the forren stock.
Is't not a shame to see ech homely groom [...]
Sit perched in an idle charriot-roome,
That were not meete some paunell to bestride
Surcingled to a galledg Hackneys hide?
Ech Muck-worme will be rich with lawlesse gaine,
Altho he smother vp mowes of seuen yeares graine,
And hang'd himself when corne grows cheap again;
Altho he buy whole Haruests in the spring
And foyst in [...]alse strikes to the measuring:
Altho his shop be muff [...]ed from the light
Like a day-dungeon, or Cimmerian night:
Nor full nor fasting can the Carle take rest,
Whiles his George-Nobles rusten in his Chest,
He sleeps but once and dreames of burgla [...]e,
And wakes and castes about his frighted eye,
And gropes for theeues in euery darker shade,
And if a Mouse but stirre he cals for ayde.
The sturdie Plough-man doth the soldier see,
All scar [...]ed with pide colours to the knee,
Whom Indian pillage hath made fortunate,
And now he gins to loath his former state:
Now doth he inly scorne his Kendall-greene,
And his patch't Cockers now dispised beene.
Nor list he now go whistling to the Carre,
But sels his Teeme and fetleth to the warre.
O warre to them that neuer tryde thee sweete!
When his dead mate fals groueling at his feete,
And angry bullets whistlen at his [...]are,
And his dim eyes see nought but death and drere:
Oh happy Plough-mā were thy weale well known;
Oh happy all estates except his owne!
Some dron [...]en Rimer thinks his time well spent,
If he can liue to see his name in print:
Who when he is once fleshed to the Presse,
And sees his handsell haue such fayre successe,
Sung to the wheele, and sung vnto the payle,
He sends forth thraues of Ballads to the sale.
Nor then can rest: But volumes vp bodg'd rimes,
To haue his name talk't of in future times:
The brainsicke youth that feeds his tickled eare
With sweet-sauc'd lies of some false Tra [...]eiler,
Which hath the Spanish Decades red a while;
Or whet [...]stone lea [...]ings of old Maundeuile,
Now with discourses breakes his mid-night sleepe,
Of his aduentures through the Indian deepe,
Of all their massy heapes of golden mines,
Or of the antique Toombs of Palestine;
Or of Damascus Magike wall of Glasse,
Of Salomon his sweating piles of Brasse,
Of the Bird Ru [...] that beares an Elephant:
Of Mer-maids that the Southerne seas do haunt;
Of head lesse men; of sauage Cannibals;
The fashions of their liues and Gouernals:
What monstrous Cities there erected bee,
Cayro, or the Citie of the Trinitie:
Now are they dung hill-Cocks that haue not seene
The bordering Alpes, or else the Neighbour Rhene,
And now he plyes the newes-full Grashopper,
Of voyages and ventures to enquire.
His land morgag'd, He sea-beat in the way
Wishes for home a thousand sithes a day:
And now he deemes his home-bred fare aslee [...]e
As his parch't Bisket, or his barreld Beefe:
Mong'st all these sturs of discontented strife,
Oh let me lead an Academicke life,
To know much, and to thinke we nothing know;
Nothing to haue, yet thinke we haue enough,
In skill to want, and wanting seeke for more,
In weale nor want, nor wish for greater store;
Enuye ye Monarchs with your proud excesse
At our low Sayle, and our hye Happinesse.
Lib. 4. Finis.
SAT. 1.
Sit paena merenti.
PArdon ye glowing eares; Needs will it out,
Tho brazen wals compas'd my tongue about,
As thicke as wealthy Scrobioes quicke-set rowes
In the wide Common that he did inclose.
Pull out mine eyes, if I shall see no vice,
Or let me see it with detesting eyes.
Renowmed Aquine, now I follow thee,
Farre as I may for feare of ieopardie;
And to thy hand yeeld vp the Iuye-mace,
From crabbed Persius, and more smooth Horace;
Or from that shrew, the Roman Poetesse,
That taught her gossips learned bitternesse,
Or Luciles Muse whom thou did stimitate,
Or Menips olde, or Pasquillers of late,
Yet name I not Mutius, or Tigilline;
Tho they deserue a keener stile then mine;
Nor meane to ransacke vp the quiet graue;
Nor burne dead bones, as h [...] example gaue,
I taxe the liuing, let dead ashes rest,
Whose faults are dead, and nayled in their chest;
Who can refraine, that's guiltlesse of their crime,
Whiles yet he liues in such a cruell time.
When Titios grounds, that in his Grand-sires daies
But one pound fine, one penny rent did raise,
A sommer-snow-ball, or a winter-rose,
Is growne to thousands as the world now goes:
So thrift and time sets other things on flote,
That now his sonne soups in a silken cote,
Whose Grandsire happily a poore hungry Swayne,
Beg [...]d some cast Abby in the Churches wayne
And but for that, what euer he may vaun [...]t,
Who knows a Monke, had beene a Mendicant;
While freezing Matho, that for one leane see,
Wont terme ech Terme the Terme of Hibarie,
May now in steed of those his simple fees;
Get the fee-simples of fayre Manneryes [...]
What, did he counterfait his Princes hand,
For some streaue Lord-ship of conc [...]aled land?
Or on ech Michaell, and Lady-day,
Tooke he deepe forfaits for an houres delay?
And gain'd no lesse by such iniurious braule,
Then Gamius by his sixt wiues buriall?
Or hath he wonne some wider Interest,
By hoary charters from his Grandsires chest,
Which late some bribed Scribe for slender wage,
Writ in the Characters of another age,
That Ploydon selfe might stammer to rehearse,
Whose date ore lookes three Centuries of yeares;
Who euer yet the Trackes of weale so tride,
But there hath be [...]ne one beaten way beside?
He, when he lets a Lease for life, or yeares,
(As neuer he doth vntill the date expeares;
For when the full state in his fist doth lie,
He may take vantage of the vacancie,)
His Fine affor'ds so many trebled pounds,
As he agreethy [...]ares to Lease his grounds:
His Rent in faire respondence must a [...]se,
To double trebles of his one yeares price;
Of one bayes breadth, God wot, a silly cote,
Whose that ched spars arefurr'd with sluttish soote
A whole inch thick; shininig like Black-moors brows
Through smok that down the head les barrel blows.
At his beds-feete feeden his stalled teme.
His swine beneath, his pullen ore the beame:
A starued Tenement, such as I gesse,
Stand stragling in the wasts of Holdernesse,
Or such as shiuer on a Peake-hill side,
When Marches lungs beate on their turfe-clad hide:
Such as nice Lip [...]ius would grudge to see,
Aboue his lodging in wild West-phalye:
Or as the Saxon King his Court might make,
When his sides playned of the Neat-heards cake.
Yet must he hau [...]t his greedy Land-lords hall,
With often presents at ech Festiuall;
With crammed Caponseuery New-ye ares morne,
Or with greene-cheeses when his sheep are shorne
Or many Maunds-full of his mellow fruite,
To make some way to win his waighty suite.
Whom cannot gifts at last cause to relent,
Or to win fauour, or flee punishment?
When griple Patrons turne their sturdie steele
To waxe, when they the golden flame do [...] fcelc;
When grand M [...]cenas casts a glauering eye,
On the cold present of a Poefie:
And least he might more frankly take then giue,
Grop [...]s for a french crowne in his emptie slee [...]e [...]
Thence Clod [...]us hopes to set his shoulders free,
From the light burden of his Nap [...]rie.
The smiling Land-lord showes a sunshine face,
Faining that he will grant him further grace;
And lear's like Aesops Foxe vpon a Crane,
Whose necke he craues for his Chirurgian;
So lingers off the lease vnt [...]ll the last,
What recks he then of paines or promi [...]e past?
Was euer fether, or fond womans mind,
More light then words; the blasts of idle wind [...]
What's sib or fire, to take the gentle slip;
And in th' Exchequer rot for surety-ship;
Or thence thy starued brother liue and di [...],
Within the cold Cole-harbour sanctuarie?
Will one from Scots-banke bid but one grote more,
My old Tenant may be turned out of doore,
Tho much he spent in th'rotten roofesrepayre,
In hope to haue it left vnto his heyre;
Tho many a loade of Marle and Manure led,
Reui [...]'d his [...]rren leas, that earst lay dead.
Were he as Furius, he would defie,
Such pilfring slips of Pety land-lordrye.
And might dislodge whole Collonies of poore,
And lay their roofe quite leuell with their floore,
Whiles yet he giues as to a yeelding fence,
Their bagge and baggage to his Citizens,
And ships them to the new-nam'd Virgin-lond,
Or wilder wales, where neuer wight yet wond:
Would it not vexe thee where thy syres did keepe,
To see the dunged foldes of dag [...]tayled she [...]pe,
And ruined house where holy things were said,
Whose free-stone wals the thatched roofe vpbraid,
Whose shril Saints-bell hangs on his louerie,
While the rest are damned to the Plumbery?
Yet pure deuotion lets the steeple stand,
And ydle battlements on eyther hand;
Least that perhaps, were all those reliques gone,
Furious his Sacriledge could not be knowne.
SAT. 2.
Heic quaerite Troiam.
HOus-keping's dead, Sat [...]rio: wot'st thou where?
For-sooth they say far hence in Brek-neck shire.
And euer since they say that fe [...]le and tast,
That men may breake their neck, soone as their fast.
Certes, if Pity died at Cha [...]cers date,
He liu'd a widdower long behind his mate:
Saue that I see some rott [...]n bed-rid Syre,
Which to out strip the nonage of his heire [...],
Is cram'd with golden broaths, and drugs of price,
And ech day dying liu's, and liuing dies,
Till once suruind his ward-ships latest eue,
His eies are closd with choyse to die or l [...]ue [...]
Plenty, and hee [...] dy'd both in that same yeare,
When the sad skye did shed so many a tear [...].
And now, who list not of his labour faile;
Marke, with Saturio, my friendly tale:
Along thy way, thou canst not but descry,
Faire g [...]ittering Hals to tempt the hopefull eye,
Thy right eye gins to leape for vaine delight,
And surbeate toes to tickle at the [...]ight [...]
As greedy T. when in the sounding mold
Hee finds a shining pot-shard tip't with gold;
For neuer Syren tempts the plea [...]ed eares,
As these the eye of fainting passengers;
All is not so that scemes; for surely than
Matrona should not bee a C [...]rtizan,
Smooth Chrysalu [...] should not bee rich with fraud,
Nor honest R. bee his owne [...]iues baude,
Looke not a squint, nor stride a crosse the way,
Like some demurring Alcide to delay.
But walke on ch [...]rely, till thou haue espide,
Saint Peters finger at the Church-yard side,
But wilt thou needs when thou art warn'd so well
Go [...]ee who in so garish wals doth dwell?
There findest thou some stately Dorick frame
Or neate Ionicke worke;
Like the vaine bubble of Iberian pride,
That ou [...]r-croweth all the world beside [...]
Which rear [...]d to raise the crazy Monarches fame,
Striues for a Court and for a Colledge name;
Yet nought within, but louzy coul's doth hold,
Like a scab'd Cuckow in a cage of gold;
So pride aboue doth shade the shame below:
A golden Periwig on a Black-mores brow.
When Mae [...]ios first pag [...] of his poesie,
Nayl'd to an hundreth postes for nou [...]ltie,
With his big title, an Italian mot,
Layes siege vnto the backward buyers grote.
Which all within is drastie sluttish geere,
Fit for the Ouen or the Kitching fire:
So this gay gate adds fuell to thy thought,
That such proud piles were neuer rays'd for nought [...]
Beat the broad gates, a goodly hollow sound
With doubled Ecchoes doth againe rebound,
But not a Dog doth barke to welcome thee,
Nor churlish Porter canst thou chafing see:
All dumbe and silent, like the dead of night,
Or dwelling of some sleepy Sybarite.
The marble pauement hid with desart weede,
With house-leeke, thistle, docke, & hemlock-seed,
But if thou chance cast vp thy wondring eyes,
Thou shalt discerne vpon the Frontispice,
ΟΥΛΕΙΣ ΕΙΣΙΤΩ grauen vp on hie,
A fragment of olde Platoes Poesie:
The meaning is, Sir foole ye may be gone,
Go backe by leaue, for way here lieth none.
Looke to the towred chymne is which should bee
The wind-pipes of good hospitalitie,
Through which it breatheth to the open ayre,
Betokening life and liberall welfaire,
Lo, there th'vnthankfull swallow takes her rest,
And; fils the Tonue [...] with her circled nest,
Nor halfe that smoke from all his chymneies goes
Which one Tabacco-pipe driues through his nose
So rawbone hunger scorns the mudded wals,
And gin's to reuell it in Lordly halls;
So [...]the blacke Prince is broken loose againe
That saw no Sunne saue once (as stories faine)
That once was, when in Trinacry I weene
Hee stole the daughter of the haruest Queene,
And grip't the maw [...]s of barren Sicily [...]
With long constraint of pinefull penurie;
And they that should resist his second rage,
Haue pen'd themselues vp in the priuate cage
Of some blind lane; and their they lurke vnknowne
Till th'hungry tempest once bee ouerblowne;
Then like the coward, after his neighbours fray,
They creepe forth boldly, and aske where are they?
Meane while the hunger-staru'd Appurtenance
Must bide the brunt, what euer ill mischance;
Grim Famine sits in their forepined face
All full of angles of vnequall space,
Like to the plaine of many sided squares,
That wont bee drawne out by Geometars;
So sharpe and meager that who should them see
Would sweare they lately came from Hungary [...]
When their brasse pans and winter couerled,
Haue wipt the maunger of the Hoses [...]bread;
Oh mee; what ods there seemeth twixt their chere,
And the swolne Bezell at an Alehouse fire,
That tonnes in gallons to his bursten panch,
Whoseslimy droughts, his draught can neuer stanch?
For shame ye gallants grow more hospitall
And turne your needlesse wardrop to your Hall:
As lauish Ʋirro that keepes open doores
Like Ianus in the warres,
Except the twelue-daies, or the wakeday-feast
What time hee needs must bee his Cosens guest,
Philene hath bid him, can he choose but come?
Who should pull Virroes sleeue to stay at home?
All yeare besides, who meal-time can attend:
Come Trebius welcome to the tables end:
What tho he chires on purer manchets crowne,
Whiles his kind client grindes on blacke & browne [...]
A iolly rounding of a whole foote broad,
From of the Mong-corne heape shall Trebius load [...]
What tho hee quaffe pure Ambe [...] in his bowle
Of March-brewd wheat [...] yet slecks thy thirsting soule
With palishoat, [...]roathing in Boston-clay
Or in a shallow cruse, nor must that stay
Within thy reach, for feare of thy craz'd braine,
But call and craue, and haue thy cruse againe;
Else how should euen tale beere gistred,
Or all thy draughts, on the chalk'd barrels head?
And if he list reuiue his hartles graine
With some French grape, or pure Canariane
When pleasing B [...]rdeaux fals vnto his lott,
Some sow [...]sh Rochell cuts thy thirsting throate,
What tho himself [...] carueth his welco [...]e friend
With a co [...]ld pittance from his trenchers-end?
Mu [...]t [...] lip hang to ward his trencher side?
Nor kisse [...]is fist to take what doth betide?
What tho to spare thy teeth he emploies thy tongue
In busie qu [...]stions all the dinner long?
What tho the scornefull way [...]er lookes askile,
And pouts and frowns, and curseth thee the while,
And tak [...] his f [...]rewell with a iealous eye,
At [...] morsell hee his last shall see [...]
And, if but one exceed the common sise
Or make an hillocke in thy cheeke arise,
Or if perchance thou shouldest, ere thou wist,
Hold thy knife vprights in thy griped [...]ist,
Or sittest double on thy back-ward seat,
Or with thine elbow shad'st thy shared meat;
Hee laughs thee in his fellowes eare to scorne,
And asks aloud, where Trebius was borne.
Tho the third Sewer takes thee quite away
Without a staffe: when thou would'st [...]enger [...]tay
What of all this? Is't not inough to say,
I di [...]'d at Virro his owne boord to day?
SAT. 3.
ΚΟΙΝΑ ΦΙΛΩΝ.
THe Satyre should be like the Porcupine,
That shoots sharpe quils out in each angry line,
And wounds the blushing cheeke, and fiery eye,
Of him that heares, and readeth guiltily.
Ye Antique Satyres, how I blesse your daies,
That brook'd your bolder stile, their owne dispraise,
And wel neare wish; yet ioy my wish is vaine,
I had beene then, or they were now againe!
For now our eares beene of more brittle mold,
Than those dull earthen eares that were of old:
Sith theirs, like anuilles bore the hammers head,
Our glasse can neuer touch vnshiuered.
But from the ashes of my quiet stile
Hence forth may rise some raging rough [...]cile,
That may with Eschylus both find and le [...]se
The snaky tresses of [...]h' Eumenides:
Meane while, sufficeth mee, the world may say
That I these vices loath'd another day,
Which I ha [...]e done with as deuout a [...]heer [...]
As he that rounds Poules [...]pillers in the [...]are,
Or bends his ham downe in the naked Queare.
T'was euer said, Frontine, a [...]d euer seen [...],
That golden Clerkes, but wooden Lawyers bene;
Could eu [...]r wise man wish in good estate
The vse of all things indiscriminate?
Who wots not yet how well this did beseeme,
The learned maister of the Academe?
Plato is dead, and dead is his d [...]uise
Which some thought witty, none thought euer wise;
Yet certes M [...]ch [...] is a Platonis [...],
To all, they say, saue who so do not list,
Because her husband a farre-trafi (que)'d man,
Is a profest [...]eripatecian,
And so our Grandsires were images past▪
That let their lands lye all so widely wast,
That nothing was in pale or hedge ypent
Within some prouince or whole shires extent:
As Nature made the earth, so did it lie,
Saue for the [...]urrowes of the [...] [...]u [...]bandrie;
When as the neighbour-lands so couched layne,
That al [...]ore show of one fayre Champian [...]
Some head-lesse cros [...]e they digged on their [...],
Or rol'd some marked M [...]ar [...]-stone in the way [...]
Poore simplemen [...] For what mough [...] that auayle
That my fi [...]ld might not [...] neighbours payle
More than a pilled sticke c [...] [...]tand [...]stead,
[...] [...]ynedo from his n [...]ighbours bed
M [...]re than the thr [...]d bare [...]li [...]nts pouertie
[...] th' A [...]turney of [...]his wo [...]ted fee?
If they were thriftlesse, mote not we amend,
And with more care our dangered fields defend?
Ech man can gard what thing he deemeth d [...]r [...],
As fear [...]full Merchants doe their Female heyre,
Which were it not for promise of their welth,
Need not be st [...]lled vp for feare of stealth;
Would rather sticke vpon the Belmans cries,
Tho prof [...]rd for a branded Indians pric [...],
Then rayse we muddi [...] b [...]l-wark [...]s on our ba [...]kes,
B [...]set around with treble quic-set rankes,
Or if those walles be ouer weak [...] a ward,
The squar [...]d Bricke may be a better gard.
Go to my thri [...]tie Yeoman, and vpreare
A brazen wall to shend thy land from feare,
Do so; and I shall praise thee all the while,
So be, thou stake not vp the commo [...] stil [...];
So be thou hedge in nought, but what's [...]hi [...]own [...],
So be thou p [...]y [...]what [...]ithes thy neighbo [...]rs done,
So be thou let not lye in fa [...]lowed plaine.
That which was wont yeeld Vsurie of graine,
But when I see thy pitched stakes do stand
On thy incroched peece of common land,
Whiles thou discommonest thy neighbours keyne,
And warn'st that none [...]eed on thy field saue thine;
Brag no more Scrobius of thy mudded bankes,
Nor thy deepe ditches, nor three quick set rankes:
Oh happy d [...]ies of olde Deucalion.
When one was Land-lord of the world alone!
But now whose choler would not rise to yeeld
A pesant halfe-stakes of his new- [...]owne field
Whiles yet he may not for the treble price
Buy out the remnant of his royalties?
Go on and thriue my pety Tyrants pride
Scorne thou to liue, if others liue beside,
And trace proud Castile that aspires to be
In his old age a yo [...]ng [...]i [...]t Monarchie
Or the red Hat that cries the lucklesse mayne,
For welthy Thames to change his lowly R [...]ene.
SAT. 4.
Possunt, quia posse videntur.
VIllius the welthy farmer left his heire,
Twise twenty sterling poūds to spēd by yeare;
The neighbours praysen Villios hide-bound sonne,
And say it was a goodly portion;
Not knowing [...]ow some Marchants dowre can rise,
By sundaies tale to fiftie Centuries;
Or to weigh downe a leaden Bride with Gold;
Worth all that Matho bought, or Pontice sold:
But whiles ten pound goes to his wiues new gown,
Nor little lesse can serue to sute his owne,
Whiles one peece payes her idle wayting man,
Or buyes an hoode, or siluer-handled Fann [...],
Or hires a Friezeland [...] Trotter halfe yarde deepe,
To d [...]ag his Tu [...]nbrell through the staring Cheape
Or whiles he rideth with two liueries,
And' [...] treble rated at the Sub [...]i [...]ies,
One end a kennell keeps of [...] [...]ounds,
What thinke yo [...] rest's of all my younkers pounds,
To diet him, or [...]eale out at his doore,
To cofer vp, or stocke his wasting store?
If then I reckon'd right, it should appeare,
That sourtie pounds serue not the Farmers hey [...]e.
Finis. Lib. 2.
VIRGIDEMIARVM LIB. 6.
SAT. 1.
Or like a painted staring Saracin;
His che [...]ks chang [...] hew like th'ayre-fed vermin skin
Now red, now pale, and swolne aboue his eyes
Like to the old Colossian imageries:
But when he doth of my recanting heare;
Away ye angrie fires, and fros [...]es of feare,
Giu [...] place vnto his hopefull tempered thought
That yeelds to peace, [...]re euer peace be sought:
Then l [...]t me now repentmee of my [...]ge,
For writing Satyres in so righteous age:
Whereas I should haue strok't her towardly head,
And cry'd Eu [...]e in my Satyres stead,
Sith now not one of thousand does amisse [...]
Was neuer age I weene so pure as th [...]s:
As pure as olde Labulla from the Baynes,
As pure as through [...]fare Channels when it raynes,
As pure as is a Black-moores face by night,
As dung [...]clad skin of dying Heraclite.
Seeke ouer all the world, and tell mee where
Thou find'st a proud man, or a flatterer:
A thie [...]e, a drunkard, or a parricide,
A lechor, lyer, or what vice beside?
Merchants are no whit couetous of late,
Nor make no mart of Time, gaine of Deceipt.
Patrons are honest now, ore they of olde,
Can now no ben [...]fice be bought norsold,
Giue him a gelding, or some two-yeares tythe,
For he all bribes and Sim [...]ny defi'th.
Is not one Pick [...]thanke stirring in the Court,
That seld was free till now by all report,
But some one, like a clawbacke parasite,
Pick't mothes from his masters Cloake in sight,
Whiles he could picke out both his eyes for need,
Mought they but stand him in some better steed.
Nor now no more smell-feast Vitellio
Smiles on his master for a meale or two;
And loues him in his maw, loaths in his heart,
Yet soothes, and yeas, and nayes on eyther part.
Tattelius the new-come traueller,
With his disguised cote, and ringed [...]are,
Trampling the Burses Marble twise a day,
Tels nothing but starke trueths I dare well say,
Nor would he haue them knowne for any thing,
Tho all the vault of his loud murmur ring.
Not one man tels a lye of all the yeare
Except the Almanacke or the Chronicler.
But not a man of all the damned crue
For hils of Gold would sweare the thing vntrue.
Pansophus now though all in the cold swat
Dares venture through the feared Castle [...]gate,
Albee the faithfull Oracles haue [...]orsayne,
The wi [...]est Senator shall there be slaine:
That made him long keepe home as well it might,
Till now he hopeth of some wis [...]r wight.
The vale of Stand [...]gate, or the S [...]ters hill,
Or westerne plaine are free from feared ill.
Let him that hath nought, feare nought I areed:
But he that hath ought; [...]y him; and God speed;
Nor drunken Dennis doth by breake of day
Stumble into blind Tauerns by the way,
And reele me homeward at the Euening starre,
Or ride more [...]asely in his neighbours chayre.
Well might these checks haue fitted former times
And shouldred angry Sk [...]ltons breath-lesse rimes:
Ere Chrysalus had [...]ar'd the common boxe,
Which earst he pick't to store his priuate stocks;
But now [...]ath all with vantage paid againe;
And locks and plates what doth behind remaine;
When earst our dry-soul'd Syres so lauish were,
To charge whole boots-full to their friends wel-fare;
Now shalt thou neuer see the [...]alt beset
With a big-bellied gallon Flagonet.
Of an ebbe Cruce must thirsty Silen sip,
That's all forestalled by his vpper lip;
Somewhat it was that made his paunch so peare,
His girdle fell ten ynches in a yeare.
Or when old go [...]ty bed-rid Euclio
To his officious factor fayre could show,
His name in margent of some olde castbyll
And say; Lo whom I named i [...] my will:
Whiles hee beleeues and looking for the share,
Tendeth his cumbrous charge with busy care;
For but a while; Fornow he sure will die,
By his strange qualme of liberalitie:
Great thanks he giues: but God him sheild & saue
From euer gayning by his masters graue;
Onely liue long, and he is well repaide,
A [...]d weats his forced cheeks whiles thus he said,
Some [...]rong-smeld Onion shall [...]tirre his eyes
Rather than no salt teares shall then arise [...]
So lookes he like a Marble toward rayne,
And wrings and snites, and weeps, & wipes againe,
Then turnes his backe and smiles & looke askance,
Seasoning againe his sowred countenance,
Whiles yet he wearyes he auen with daily cryes,
And backward Death with deuout sacrifice,
That they would now his tedious ghost bereauen,
And wishes well, that wish't no worse than heauen.
When Zoylus was sicke, he knew not where
Saue his wrought night [...]cap, and laun [...] Pillow-bere:
Kind fooles; they made him sicke that made him fine
Take those away, and thers his medicine:
Or Gellia wore a veluet Mastick-patch
Vpon her temples when no tooth did ach,
When Beauty was her Reume I soone espide,
Nor could her plaister cure her of her pride.
These vices were, but now they ceas'd off long:
Then why did I a righteous age that wrong,
I would repent mee were it not too late,
Were not the angry world preiudicate:
If all the seuens penetentiall
Or thousand white wands might me ought auaile,
If Trent or Thames could scoure my foule offence
And set me in my former innocence,
I would at last repent me of my rage:
Now; beare my wrong, I thine, O righteous age [...]
As for fine wits an hundreth thousand fold
Passeth our age what euer times of olde.
For in that Puis-nè world, our syres of long
Could hardly wagge the [...]r too-vnweldy tongue
As pined Crowes and parats can doe now,
When hoary age did bend their wrincled brow:
And now of late did many a learned man
Serue thirtie yeares Prenti-ship with Priscian,
But now can euery Nouice speake with ease
The far fetch'd language of th'-Antipodes.
Would'st thou the tongues that earst were learned hight
Tho our wise age hath wipt them of their right;
Would'st thou the Courtly Three in most request,
Or the two barba [...]ous neighbours of the west?
Bibinu [...] selfe can haue ten tongues in one,
Tho in all Ten not one good tongue alone.
And can deepe skill lye smothering within
Whiles neither smoke nor flame discerned bin?
Shall it not be a wild-fig in a wall
Or fired Brimstone in a Minerall?
Doe thou disdaine, O ouer-learned age,
The tongue-ty'de silence of that Samian sage;
Forth ye fine wits, and rush into the presse,
And for the cloyed world your workes addresse.
Is not a Gnat, nor Fly, nor seely Ant,
But a fine wit can make an Elephant;
Should Bandels Throstle die without a song,
Or Adamantius my Dog be laid along,
Downe in some ditch without his Exequies,
Or Epitaphs [...] or mournfull Elegies?
Folly itselfe, and baldnes may be praised,
And sweet conceits from filthy obiects raised;
What doe not fine wits dare to vndertake?
What dare not fine wits doe for honours sake?
But why doth Balbus his dead-doing quill
Parch in his rustie scabbard all the while,
His golden Fleece ore-growne with moldy hore
As tho he had his witty workes forswore?
Belike of late now Balbus hath no need,
Nor now belike his shrinking shoulders dread
The Catch-poles fist [...] The Presse may still remaine
And breath, till Balbus be in debt againe.
Soone may that bee; so I had silent beene,
And not thus rak't vp quiet crimes vns [...]ene.
Silence is safe, when saying stirreth sore
And makes the stirred puddle stinke the more.
Shall the controller of proud Nemesis
In lawlesse rage vpbraid ech others vice,
While no man seeketh to reflect the wrong
And curb the raunge of his mis-ruly tongue?
By the two crownes of Pernasse euer-greene,
And by the clouen head of Hippocrene
As I true Poet am, I here auow
(So solemnly kist he his Laurell bow)
If that bold Satyre vnreuenged be
For this so saucy and foule iniurie.
So Labeo weens it my eternall shame
To proue I neuer earnd a Poets name.
But would I be a Poet if I might,
To rub my browes three daies & wake three nights,
And bite my nayles, and scrat my dullard head,
And curse the backward Muses on my bed
About one peeuish syllable: which out-sought
I take vp Thales ioy, saue for fore-thought
How it shall please ech Ale-knights censuring eye,
And hang'd my head for feare they deeme awry;
Whiles thred-bare Martiall turnes his merry note
To beg of Rufus a cast winter cote;
Whiles hungry Marot leapeth at a Beane
And dieth like a staru'd Cappucien;
Go Ariost, and gape for what may fall
From Trench [...]r of a flattering Cardinall,
And if thou gettest but a Pedants fee
Thy bed, thy board, and courser liuerie,
O honour farre beyond a brazen shrine
To [...]it with Tarleton on an Ale [...]posts signe!
Who had but liued in Augustus daies
T [...]ad beene some honour to be crown'd with Bayes
When Luca [...] streaked on his Marble-bed
To thinke of C [...]esar, and great Pompeys deed;
Or when Archelaus shau'd his mourning head
Soone as he heard Ste [...]icho [...]us was dead.
Atleast would some good body of the rest,
Set a Gold-pen on their bay-wreathed Crest [...]
Or would the [...]r face in stamped coyne expresse,
As did the Mytelens their Poetesse [...]
Now as it is, beshrew him if he might,
That would his browes with Caesars Laurell dight:
Tho what ayl'd mee, I might not well as they
Rake vp some forwo [...]ne tales that smothered lay
In chimny corners smok'd with winter-fires,
To read and rocke a sleepe our drouzy Syres [...]
No man his threshold better knowes, than I
Brutes first ariuall, and first victory,
Saint Georges Sorrell, or his croste of blood,
Arthurs round Board, or Caledonian wood,
Or holy battels of bold Charlemaine,
What were his knights did Salems sieg [...] maintaine;
How the mad Riuall of fayre Angelice
Was Phisick't from the new-found Par [...]dice;
High stories they; which with their swelling straine
Haue riuen Frontoes broad Rehearsall Plaine,
But so to fill vp bookes both backe and side
What needs it? Are there not enow beside?
O age well thriuen and well fortunate,
When ech man hath a Muse appropriate,
And she like to some seruile [...]are [...]boar'd slaue
Must play and sing when and what he would h [...]ue!
Would that were all: small fault in number lies,
Were not the feare from whence it should arise
But can it be ought but a spurious seede,
That growes so rife in such vnlikely speed?
Sith Pontian left his barren wife at home,
And spent two yeares at Venice and at Rome,
Returned, heares his blessing askt of three,
Cries out, O Iulian law, Adulterie?
Tho Labeo reaches right: (who can deny?)
The true strayne's of Heroic [...]e Poesie:
For he can tell how fury re [...] his sense
And Phoebus fild him with intelligence,
He can implore the heath en deites
To guide his bold and busie enterprise;
Or filch whole Pages at a clap for need
From honest Petrarch, clad in English weed;
While bigge But ohs ech stranzae can begin,
Whose trunke and tayle sluttish and hartlesse bin;
He knows the grace of that new elegance,
Which sweet Philisides fetch't of late from France,
That well beseem'd his high-stil'd Arcady,
Tho others marre it with much liberty,
In Epithets to ioyne two wordes in one,
Forsooth for Adiectiues cannot stand alone;
As a great Poet could of Bacchus say,
That he was Semele-femori-gena.
Lastly he names the spirit of Astrophel:
Now hath not Labeo done wondrous well?
But ere his Muse her weapon learne to weild.
Or dance a sober Pirrhicke in the field,
Or marching wade in blood vp to the knees,
Her Arma Virûm goes by two degrees,
The sheepe-cote first hath beene her nursery
Where she hath worne her ydle infancy,
And in hy startups walk't the pastur'd plaines
To tend her tasked her [...] that there remaines,
And winded still a pipe of Ote or Brere
Striuing for wages who the praise shall beare;
As did whilere the homely Carmelite
Following Virgil, and he Theocrite;
Or else hath beene in Venus Chamber train'd
To play with Cupid, till shee had attain'd
To comment well vpon a beauteous face,
Then was she fit for an Heroicke place;
As wittie Pontan in great earnest said
His Mistres brests were like two weights of lead,
Another thinks her teeth might likened bee
To two fayre rankes of pales of yuory,
To sence in sure the wild beast of her tongue,
From eyther going farre, or going wrong;
Her grinders like two Chalk-stones in a mill,
Which shall with time and wearing waxe as ill
As old Catillaes [...] which wont euery night
Lay vp her holly pegs till next day-light,
And with them grinds soft-simpring all the day,
When least her laughter should her gums be wray
Her hands must hide her mouth if she but smile;
Fayne would she seeme all frixe and frolicke still.
Her forehead fayre is like a brazen hill
Whose wrincled furrows which her age doth breed
Are dawbed full of Venice chalke for need [...]
Her eyes like siluer sauce [...]s fayre beset
With shining Amber and with shady Iet
Her lids like Cupids-bow, case where he hides
The weapons which doth wound the wanton-eyde.
Her chin like Pindus or Pernassus hill
Where down descends th'oreflowing stream doth fil
The well of her [...]ayre mouth [...] Ech hath [...]is praise.
Who would not but wed Poets now a daies!
FINIS.
ΡΟΜΗ ΡΥΜΗ. SAT. 2.
VVHo say's these Romish Pageants bene too hy
To be the [...]corne of sportfull Poesy?
Certes not all the world such matter wist
As are the seuen hils, for a S [...]tiryst.
Perdy, Iloath an hundreth Mathoes tongues,
An hundreth ga [...]ters shifts, or Land-lords wrongs,
Or Labeos Poems, or base Lolios pride,
Or euer what I thought or wrote beside;
When once I thinke if carping Aquines spright
To see now Rome, were licenc'd to the light;
How his enraged Ghost would stampe and sta [...]
That Caesars throne is turn'd to Peters chayre.
To see an old shorne Loze [...] perched hy
Crossing beneath a golden Canopy,
The whiles a thou [...]and hairelesse crownes crouch low
To kisse the precious case of his proud Toe,
And for the Lordly Fasces borne of old,
To see two quiet crossed keyes of gold,
Or Cyb [...]les shrine, the famous Panth [...]ons frame
Turn'd to the honour of our Ladies name.
But that he most would gaze and wonder at,
Is th'ho [...]ned Miter, and the bloudy hat,
The crooked staffe, their coules strang forme and store,
Saue that he saw the fame in hell before,
To see their broken Nuns with new [...]shorne heads,
In a blind Cloys [...]er tosse their idle Beades,
Or Louzy coules come smoking from the stewes,
To rays [...] the Leud Rent to their Lord accrewes,
(Who with ranke Ve [...]ice doth his pompe aduance
By trading of ten thousand Curtizans)
Yet backward must absolue a females sinne,
Like to a false dissembling Theatine,
Who when his skinne is red with shirts of male
And rugged haire-cloath scoures his greazy nayle,
Or wedding garment tames his stubborne backe,
Which his h [...]mpe girdle dies all blew and blacke.
Or of his Almes-Boule three daies sup'd and din'd,
Trudges to open stewes of eyther kinde [...]
Or takes some Cardinals stable in the way,
And with some pampered Mule doth we are the day
Kept for his Lords owne sadle when him list.
Come Valentine, and play the Satyrist,
To see poore sucklings welcom'd to the light
With [...]earing yrons of some sowre [...]acobite,
Or golden offers of an aged foole
To make his Coffin some Franciscans coule,
To see the Pop [...]s blacke knight, a cloked Frer [...]
Sweating in the channell like a Scauengere.
Whom earst thy bowed hamme did lowly greete,
When at the Corner-Crosse thou did'st him meete,
Tumbling his Rosaries hanging at his belt
Or his Barretta, or his towred felt,
To see a lasie dumbe Acholit [...]ite
Armed against a deuout Flyes despight,
Which at th'hy Altar doth the Chalice vaile
With a broad Flie-flappe of a Peacockes tayle,
The whiles the likerous Priest spits euery trice
With longing for his morning Sacrifice,
Which he reres vp quite perpendiculare,
That the mid Church doth spite the Chancels fare,
Beating their emptie mawes that would be fed,
With the scant morsels of the Sacrists bread.
Would he not laugh to death, when he should heare
The shamelesse Legends of S. Christopher,
S. George, the sleepers, or S. Peters well,
Or of his daughter good S. Petronell.
But had he heard the Female Fathers grone,
Yeaning in mids of her procession;
Or now should see the needlesse tryall-chayre,
(When ech is proued by his bastard heyre)
Or saw the Churches, and new Calendere
Pestred with mungrell Saints, and reliques dere,
Should hee cry out on Codr [...]'s t [...]dious Toomes,
Whē his new rage would aske no narrower rooms?
FINIS.
A Post-script to the Reader.
IT is not for euery one to rell [...]sh a true and naturall Satyre, being of it selfe beside [...] the nat [...]ue and in b [...]ed b [...]tt [...]rnes and [...]artnes of particul [...]rs, both hard of [...] and harsh of s [...]le, and therefore cannot but be [...] easing bo [...]n to the vnskil [...]ull, and [...]uer M [...]sicall ca [...]e, the one being affected with on [...]ly a shallow and easie m [...]tte [...] [...]e other with a [...]moth and currant d [...]sposition: so that I wel [...] foresee in the timely publication of these my concealed Satyres, I am set vpon the ra [...]ke of many m [...]rcilesse and peremptori [...] censures. which sith the cal [...]est & most plausible writer is almost fatally subiect vnto in the curios [...]tie of the [...]e nicer times, how may I hope to be exempted vpon the occasion of so busy and stirring a subi [...]ct? One thinkes it mis [...]belee [...]ing the Author, becau [...]e a Poeme: another vnlawfull [...]n itselfe because a Satyre; a third harmefull to others for the s [...]arpnesse & a fou [...]th vnsa [...]y rl [...]ke [...] for the mildnesse: T [...]e learned too per [...]picuous, being nam [...]d with luuenall, P [...]rsius, and the other ancient Sa [...]yres; The [...]n [...]earned, [...]auourlesse, because too ob [...]ure, and ob [...]ur [...] because not [...]der the [...] reach. What a monster must he be th [...]t would please a [...]l?
Certa [...]ne [...]y looke what we [...]er it would be if euery Almana [...]ke should be ver [...]fied; [...]uch what l [...]ke P [...]ms, if [...]uery fancie should be suted. It is not for th [...]s kinde [...]o de [...]e or hope to plea [...]e, which naturaily should onely fin [...]e pleasure in displeasing; notwithstanding [...]f the [...]ult find [...]g with the vices of the time ma [...] honestly acc [...]rd with the good will of the parti [...]s, I had as [...] [...]al [...] my sel [...]e w [...]t [...] a slender [...] polog [...], a [...] wilf [...]lly b [...]are [...]h [...] b [...]nt of [...] [...]nger in my silence. For Poetrie [...] [...] after the so [...] all and a [...]solu [...]e indeauour [...] [...]f her [...]onouted Pat [...]ons, [...]yther shee needeth no new defence, or else might w [...]ll [...]rne the offer [Page 103] of so impotent and poore a Client. Onely for my owne part; tho were shee a more vnworthy Mistresse, I thinke s [...]e might be inoffensiuely serued with the broken Messes of our twelue-a-clocke houres, which homely seruice she onely clamed & found of mee, for that short while of my attendance: yet h [...]uing thus soone taken my solemne Farewell of her, and shaked hande [...] with all her r [...]tinue, why should it be an eye-fore vnto any, sith it can be no losse to my selfe?
For my Satyres themselues, I see two obuious cauils to be answered. One concerning the matter; then which I confesse none can be more open to dang [...]r, to enuie, sith f [...]lts loath nothing more than the light, and men loue nothing more than their faults, and therefore what through the nature of the faults, and fault of the pers [...]ns, it is imposs [...]ble so violent an appeachment should be quietly brooked. But why should vices be vnblamed for feare of blame? and if thou maist spit vpon a Toade vnuenomed, why maist thou not speake of a vice without danger? Especially so wa [...]ily as I haue indeauoured, who in the vnpartiall mention of so many vices, may safely professe to b [...] altogether guiltlesse in my selfe to the intention of any guiltie perion who might be blemished by the likelyhood of my conceiued application, [...]herupon choosing rather to marre mine owne verse than anothers name: which notwith [...]anding if the iniurious R [...]der shall wrest to his owne spight, and d [...]sparraging of others, it is a short answere: Art thou guiltie? complaine not, thou art not wronged: art thou guiltles? complaine not, thou art not touched. The other concerning the manner, where in perhaps too mu [...]h stouping to the lowe rea [...]h of the vulgar, I shalbe [...]hought not to haue any whit kindly ra [...]ght my ancient Roman predecessors, whom in the want of [...] late and familiar presidents I am constrained thus farre of to [Page 104] imitate: which thing I can be so willing to graunt, that I am further readie to warrant my action therein to any indifferent censure. First therefore I dare boldly auouch that the English is not altogether so naturall to a Satyre as the Latin, which I doe not impute to the nature of the language it selfe, being so farre from disabling it any way, that me thinks I durst equallit to the proudest in euery respect, but to that which is common to it with all other common languages Italian, French, Germaine, &c. in their Poesies, the fettering together the Series of the verses, with the bondes of like cadence or desinence of [...]ime, which if it be vnusually abrupt, and not dependent in sence vpon so neere affinitie of words, I know not what a loathsome kinde of harshnes a [...]d discordance it bread [...]th to any iudiciall eare: which if any more confident aduersarie shall gainsay, I wish no better triall than the tralation of one of Persius his Satyrs into English; the difficultie and dissonance wherof, [...]hall make good my assertion: besides the plaine experience thereof in [...]he Satyres of Ariosto, (saue which, and one base french Satyre, I could neuer attaine the view of any for my direction, and that also might for neede serue [...]or an excuse at least) whose chaine-verse to which [...]e fettereth himselfe, as it maie well afford a pleasing harmony to the eare, so can it yeeld nothing but a flashy and loose conceyt to the iudgement. Wheras the Roman numbers tying but one foote to another, offereth a greater freedome of varietie, with much more delight to the reader. Let my second ground be, the well knowne daintines of the time, such, that men rather choose carelesly to lease the sweete of the kernell, than to vrge their teeth with breaking of the shell wherein it is wrapped: and therfore sith that which is vnseene is almost vn [...]one, and that is almost vnseene which is vnconceiued, either [Page 105] I would say nothing to be vntalkt of, or speake with my mouth open that I may be vnderstood. Thirdly the end of this paines was a Satyre, but the end of my Satyre a further good, which whether I attaine or no I know not, but let me be plaine, with hope of profit, rather than purposely obscure onely for a bare names sake.
Notwithstanding in the expectation of this quarrell, I thinke my first Satyre doth somewhat resemble the soure and crabbed face of Iuuenals, which I indeauouring in that, did determinately omit in the rest, for these forenamed causes, that so I might haue somewhat to stoppe the mouth of euery accuser. The rest, to each mans censure: which let be as fa [...]ourable, as so thanklesse a work can deserue or desire.
FINIS.
After this impression was finished, vpon the Authors knowledge, I had the view of a more perfect Copy, wherein wer [...] these additions and corrections, which I thought good to place here, desiring the reader to referre them to their places.
Additions.
Betweene the 10. and 11. line of the 16. page.
While yet he rousteth at some vncouch signe
Nor neuerred his Tenures second line.
Ρομη Ρυμη. SAT. 7. lib. 4.
Wwo saies these Romish Pageants,
To be the &c.
And so to the end.