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book_n	call_v	world_n	write_v	2,133	5	5.3230	4	false

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ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A58778	The poems of Ben. Johnson, Junior being a miscelanie of seriousness, wit, mirth, and mysterie in [brace] Vulpone, The dream, Iter bevoriale, Songs, &c. / composed by W.S., Gent.	W. S.; Johnson, Ben, Junior.	1672 (1672)	Wing S203; ESTC R37195	39,315	120

THE POEMS OF Ben. Johnson JVNIOR Being A Miscelanie of Seriousness Wit Mirth and Mysterie In VULPONE The DREAM ITER BEVORIALE SONGS c. Composed by W. S. Gent. Parce vatem sceleris damnare London Printed for Tho. Passenger at the three Bibles about the middle of London Bridge 1672. To the Right Honourable John Earl of Rutland and his Honourable Son the Lord Ross LEt Virgil and wise Homer crown'd with Bays Instruct my Pen to sing great Rutland's praise Skie-mounting Belvoir my Pernassus be Wh●re Bounty Plenty noble Charity Erect their throne where the fair Heavens adjoin A Mannor and a Mountegue divine To the Right Honourable Walter Lord Aston ASton a Stone cut from the marble Quar Fram'd to out-live the flames of civil war With all the bounties of the heavens befriended Nineteen brave Knights two princely Lords descended From this great Stem laden with Honours spoil That now o'respreads Great Brittains fruitful Isle Tixal the Fountain whence these Heroes flow Where Hospitality and Bounty grow Here Corydon doth act a pleasant Scean While his swift grinders sweep the Table clean Here I my noble Ancestors of old Tracing the steps of Charity behold By Loves fair hand to mine own Cradle led Aston and Lucy joyned in one Bed To all the ancient Family of the Lucyes and to all their Honourable Extractions Luci quasi Luxi LUcy bright morning-star pure light divine Drawn from the Roman and the Norman line In every Revolution still the same Their Countreys Honour a●d transcendent flame From this clear Spring I am a little Stream From this Apollo a derived beam Ingratitude unto that Root and Ground That noble Being I my Being found Lamp of their Countrey to their endless praise I dedicate these soft and humble Layes THE CONTENTS In Vulpone A Fri●r Vulpone's School-master His Pedigree Mahomet Vulpone's Coat of Arms. His Friends Usurers Vulpone's Apologie c. In the Dream Dreams The Court of Spain The Inquisition London Lawyers Opinionists The Rich. The Poor The University Miscellanies Iter Bevoriale False and true Love Egypt and the Brick-makers there The Wilderness Death On the Royal Soveraign A Poetical Strain Two Poetical Epistles A cold Journey Upon my Return hence A Dialogue The Drainers are up ●uch a Rogue 's a Roundhead A Catholick Hymn A Hymn of Love An Epitaph Hymn The Angels Entertainment Hymnus in eandem A Song of Hospitality Self A Littany A Soveraign Receipt Dysticks THE POEMS OF BEN. JOHNSON Junior VULPONE AQuarius eb'd and Pisces caught i' th' wile The Ram skips in when Thalia deignes to smile Sol courts his Mistriss gives her a green gown I 'm crown'd with joy and tripping ore the Down I chanc'd to pass by a fair chrystal flood Whose nearest neighbour was an o'regrown wood The little bubbling purling Fountains springing The Nightingale on ev'ry bow sat singing The Fields the Flowers the Fruit so freely budding Without all care I stumbled on a sudden Upon the Foxes hole Reynard quoth I Why art thou banish't from society This solitary melancholy Cave Looks like some desperate dungeon or a grave Thy sentence is severe what no reprieve Must thou lye bury'd and intomb'd alive The goodwives call thee trecherous and sullen A greedy dog for killing all their pullen The Shepheards too such loud complaints do bring Make ev'ry corner of the Downs to ring The bloody slaughter of the harmless Sheep Like a sly curr when Shepherds are asleep The cruel murder of the pretty Lambs Slain on a heap together with their damms Reynard to me his gentle paw did reach And in smooth language thus began to preach Many blind souls who cannot read their Psalter Are too too bold and busie with the Altar Let no man put his finger in the fire I by profession am a reverend Fryer Our order 'bove all earthly power was ranged Equal with Angels but those times are changed A dismal cloud hath shaded all our mirth We now are call'd the Locusts of the earth By Schismaticks who having lost the way In a wild labyrinth of error stray It was a golden age when we did handle Th' affrighted world with our Bell Book and Candle Lords of the World Mens Consciences to boote We made great Kings humbly to kiss our foot We then were Emperors of all mens treasures My brother Wolf and I did fare like Coesars Our bellies strutting nothing could we lack The full cram'd dishes made the Table crack Gammons of Bacon Brawn and what was chief King in all feasts a tall Sir Loyne of Beef Fat Venison Pasties smoaking 't is no fable Swans in their broath came swimming to the Table Partridges Pigeon Plover and the Hen With all her broods would it were there agen My sides were wondrous plump and in good plight I had no cause to range abroad by night Feasted with delicates beyond all measure Our golden path was Pav'd with ease and pleasure The highway Huckster he delights in pillage The Gypsie swaggers in a Country Village The beggar under ev'ry bush doth feast But of all lives the Monk's life is the best The world in pure devotion was so holy While we fed fat and laughed at their folly The pretty Nuns and we agree so well Whom we did pardon whatsoe'er befell We put the fair side outward what was foul Was closely hidden underneath our Cowl None in the Pulpet could become a lye With face more bold and confident than I. Such melting words that made the women weep Into the closet of their souls I creep The men from home and dreaming of no harm I kiss their wives and keep their places warm I led the fools in such a stupid blindness At their return they thank me for my kindness The world was fast asleep and did not mind me Where e're I came I left my spawn behind me Like Bulls reserv'd for breed from our fair Abbyes We fill all countryes with our lusty Babyes Hence in their mouthes this Proverb all men gather 'T is a wise child that knoweth his own Father But I must now in deep contrition mourn Fasting and praying for the swift return I lay my bones upon this rocky hill Besides the Lents I keep against my will Since Abby's were dissolv'd which I condole I hid mine head e'er since in this dark hole In this poor Hermitage my vows to pay In deep devotion I consume the day Shunning all company by Heavens direction I keep my self untainted from infection In meditation on my own thoughts feeding Least they should spoil my manners and my breeding I contemplate and study in my mind Where I at night some pleasant bit may find Self preservation is a general rule I suckt this lesson from dame nature's School My Occupation which some thiev'ry call I learnt of man the greatest thief of all By him I was instructed to indite Man is my copy what he writes I write Look on my Book I 'm sure I do not miss Compare them well my letters are like

him Dancing for joy there 's nothing now can fear them The greedy Wolf and Fox cannot come near them The bearded Goats apart from him do stand The little Lambs he feeds with his own hand In his warm tender bosome they are nurst With his heart-blood he satisfies their thirst To pay their debts upon the Cross he hung Good Pellican that bleeds to feed his young TRANSPORT My soul mad drunk with love that still did mi●… him Among the Doves I cannot choose but find him Drest in the flames of love saw you my Dear One milk-white Dove did whisper in mine ear Behold in yonder flourishing Grove of Mirtles Thy Lover sits the King of all the Turtles His mate so constant that he doth not doubt her His love so great he cannot live without her He courts and to be courted she is willing Musick of hearts whose melody is billing In an eternal knot espous'd they be He full of love a modest Virgin she His love eternal is and hath no date He is thy Turtle and thou art his Mate Father of Spirits Angels and the rest Bright flame of love within Jehovahs brest Upon the day of Penticost he came With cloven tongues and in a fiery flame This spreading fire from East to West was hurl'd Whose holy sparks did kindle all the world Till Antichrist did poyson this pure life And quench this heavenly fire with floods of strife But now he 's come the second time whose breath Will plague the Beast and whip the Whore to death Unto the sturdy Plowman then I pass Such as of old the Prophet Amos was Rid my Love this way on his milk white Steed Amos reply'd thy Lover is the Seed He sows himself into thy fruitful mind That at the Harvest he himself may find There 's nothing but himself that he doth save All but himself lyes rotting in the Grave The perfect new man which from heaven descended Returns when this frail mortal life is ended Thy Soul 's the Land where he himself doth sow The Spirits holy breath makes it to grow Refreshed by the heavens distilling rain It multiplies into a field of grain All flowers of Paradice grow to delight 'um Grace after grace springs up ad infinitum Inquiring of the Shrubs who weep and mourn Hanging their heads this answer they return By resignation and humilitie A little Plant becomes a stately Tree All look on Trees that on the Mountains grow But those are safest that are plac'd below Jehovah's thunder doth not overtake them The wildest Hurricano cannot shake them They flourish like the Lillies without care He is their life and they his being are I march among the Rich hoping to find him Voluptuous pomp gave them no time to mind him Ratling of Coaches in their brain did rout them A train of Sycophants plac'd round about them Whose soothing language lavishly did measure Their Summum bonum to consist in pleasure The world 's a Hogstye O that word hereafter Where men like Swine are fatted for the slaughter I row my Boat unto the ragged shoar To the despised rich contented poor Who in the heavens have laid up all their treasure Where they have riches without end or measure Where rests my love when Sol at noon is riding Upon his flaming Steeds where 's his abiding He dwelleth in the low and humble mind That prostrate lyes before his feet resign'd Such simple innocence without all skill Like new-born babes that know no good nor ill Poor naked nothings numbred with the dead Have sold their ornaments for heavenly bread Whose souls are purifyed from filthy mire By passing through the Purgatorian fire A noble battail ' gainst themselves proclaim'd Their passions and affections wholly tam'd Great Alexander with his noble crew Conquering the world the world could not subdue Another Empire large he had to win To tame that little world that was within We that are crown'd with double victory In these poor Coats are greater Kings than he To the Vniversity I set my face Among the Rabbies of that reverend place I hunted out the chief for fame reputed And unexpectedly I was saluted By one whose beard was snow whose face was frost Train'd in the noble School of Penticost In Christ-church Colledge a resplendent light And by degree a learned Jesuite Chief of that Order with all knowledge blest Skil'd in the heavenly Magick of the east 'T was one of those brave Magi that from far Did visit Jesus guided by a Star Offering rich presents Frankincense and Spice To offer me his councel was not nice And that he might my lawful audience win He kist me thrice and thus he did begin What vanity on childish arts to look And leave unstudied thine own learned book Thy book hath but three leaves leaves that are few The wisdom great all that all worlds can shew Thy Soul 's that noble book wherein doth lye Heaven hell and earth time and Eternity He that can read this book he must inherit The wisdom of the Father Son and Spirit This book hath long been claps'd and clos'd within Seal'd and shut up by th' angry Cherubin In heaven and earth none worthy none was fit But the dear Lamb God's heart to open it To keep it lockt the anger did decree Love did unseal the book and set it free A Library of books in this book find Printed and fairly written in thy mind Whose lines are gold indited by the Dove Whose letters are the sparkling flames of love Teipsum nosce leave their tittle tattle And then thou knowest more then Aristotle Study thy self if thou wouldst knowledge win Faith will unlock the golden gate within Let wisdome bridle passions in the Soul Good Servants but ill Lords if they controul Hell lies in wait to crucify thy lover Heaven with it's Angels at thy door doth hover Seraphick Angels with immortal power Thy Guardian strength attend thee every hour Vain roving thoughts Moss troopers do way lay thee With their hail Master kiss thee to betray thee Thought follows thought as wave on waves do roul And all to steal away the wandring Soul Like thieving Pickaroons in Neptunes hall They sail about thy brain to plunder all If they once bring thine heart unto their shoar Poor Gally-slave they 'l chain thee to the Oar O keep thine heart intire for him alone Who rules the heavens makes thy heart his throne This lower world is a deceitful cage Where mortals act their part as on a stage Some march into the field and some retreat Disguis'd like Maskers all is but a cheat Play how you please when you have thrown your cast Death comes and sweeps away the stake at last Look not so big thy life is but a span 'T is a wise part to act the honest man For toys thy future bliss do not destroy Prepare thy mind for that sweet land of joy Where all things do in equal temper grow Nor hot nor cold with you it is not so The torrid