do create Unto themselves but every time and place Enjoy and all delightful things embrace Left troubled with their loss and not at all Fearful of what may afterwards befall 'T was otherwise with Cholmelan who was A man well form'd and many did surpass In strength and health and feature yet bethought Himself to bring his native good to nought For left his Raven-locks should soon grow white With unctuous gums he smear'd them every night And with dry powders vext them so by day That the whole bush was quickly fleec'd away And shew'd a skull like Time's upon a wall Save that it had no sore-top left at all But hair and horns grow fast and so his head After a while was roughly furnished With a new tress and then his onely care Was to keep up his carcass in repair He quak'd at thought of sickness if a Corn But pain'd his foot he was a man forlorn Quite out of tune and temper felt no doubt A grievous symptome of a woful Gout And must have either noxious humours thrust By physick forth or forthwith dye he must If at a Jovial crash he chanc'd to take Deep draughts that did at night in 's bowels make Unruly tumults all his house must be Disturb'd about his mad-brain'd malady And Doctors fetcht whose sober skill might lay Hold on his life that else would slip away Thus did he fool himself with physick thus Ere long as blasted and cadaverous Lookt his whole visage thus to ruine went His beauty thus his sinews were unbent His eyes beclouded tainted was his breath And lastly thus he dy'd for fear of death All his fat fortunes being purg'd away 'Mongst fatal Vultures gaping still for prey After hard labours men are well content Softly to rest and after banishment Fix joyful eyes upon their native seat Yet the same men their folly is so great After a world of trouble pain and strife Hateful to Nature are in love with life And would not that the friendly hand of fate Should plant them in a free and quiet State Of Natures bounty do they gladly taste With her in childhood seem to break their fast At full-grown manly age with her to dine And t' sup with her when strength doth now decline Yet grudge that Death the Servitour should play And take as with a Voider all away Why should men fear so what they nere did try And frame such bugs themselves to testifie Some dead men have been fetcht to life again But which of them did ever yet complain O' th' pains they suffer'd when their vital fire Did twinkle out their languid heat expire The wiser sort by meditation make Stern Death familiar and the boldness take To handle as it were his dart and spade Hence are they not of his sharp looks afraid But entertain him as a friendly guest That comes to fetch them to the fields of rest SATYRE XVII Against Detraction NOr I nor any that do Satyres write Please Glossamare who with invenom'd spight Shoots at us looking as the Parthians use Another way He sayes we much abuse Our pens and pains and are too partial To blemish others with besprinkled gall And t' clear our selves who oft more faulty are Then those whose credits we so much impair ' Hear Slanderer our answer if you know ' That in such cross and crooked wayes we go ' As you are lost in then free leave have you 'To shake your Scourge and jerk us smartly too ' Meanwhile like Furies shall we strive to fright ' You from your faults and make our Satyres bite ' And worry you for all your lewd and vile ' Aspersions that our fames do still defile ' Had you snarl'd so when Juvenal did write ' Flaccus or Persius sure they would have quite ' Shatter'd you with invectives tore your name 'To rags dampt out the sparkles of your fame ' Caus'd your foul slanders to reflect upon ' Your brazen brow to dash some shame thereon ' And make you hasten to a sword or knife 'To cut therewith your fretted thread of life Those that like Aesops Frog with envy swell At others that the common crew excel And noted are for wit wealth dignity Or great mens favour break ill-favour'dly Int' spightful language thinking to abase Their worth by slinging at them foul disgrace And raising dust as 't were to dim mens sight Left of such objects they should judge aright Let no man think t' escape the brandisht tongue Of calumny sith he that primely sung The fate of Ilium the old Moenian Bard And th' other aptly unto him compar'd Brave Virgil high in style and deep in sense Grave l'lato too that wing'd his eloquence With heavenly phancies and the Stagirite That sent through Natures orb so clear a light Were all too sharply censur'd all besprent With gall and weight of malice under-went Yea he that sometime like a Sunny ray Was sent from Heaven our fatal debt to pay To whose clear vertues treasures were impure And worthless and the Lightning-flash obscure He that cur'd all our maladies procur'd All blessings for us all our pains endur'd Was rankt with wretched sinners neretheless Charg'd home with Devlilish arts and deep excess And many others ills well known to be Their in-mates that belcht our such blasphemy The baneful Serpent that t' our mother Eve Gave th' apple did thereon such poison leave As fills all humane kind with canker'd spight And makes them vent the same with much delight Where can we find a knot of company So fast and friendly as will not let fly Their tongues to hateful contumelious talk Nor let them through more lives and manners walk Then ere Ulysses saw A meer surmise Though nere so false will give their calumnies Sufficient colour any slight presence Seems ground enough for black maledicence ' Observe you not said Wolfang th' other day ' How our great Rabbi does on 's cushion lay 'A written book and ever squints at it ' When he is damning us to th' Stygian pit ' For less faults then his own I boldly say ' That he that cannot preach nor scarcely pray ' Without his papers is more fit to troul ' Ballads then deal in business of the soul ' His Doctorship's a Dullard past all cure ' Of sharp reproof he is a Preacher sure ' As wooden as his Pulpit and his brains ' As barren as the sand his glass contains ' If Universities bring up such fools ' May War and Sacriledge bring down their Schools ' And what 's his pure Disciple Theophil ' That melts at Sermons as he would distil ' His matt'ry brain through th' limbeck of his nose ' And on the poor such largesses bestowes ' He 's a rank Hypocrite a rotten post ' All vanisht ore a painted tomb that cost ' Much idle artship a gay thing of naught 'A shining glass with poison inly fraught ' That soon will break 't For sure he cannot hold 'Long though his coffers
untruths and so distort thereby Their manners that they ever look awry Children before they can articulate Their words aright will lisp our lyes and prate Falsly by signs fore-shewing that they will Be like the Fiend and learn their Fathers skill He hates the truth because it seems to be A beam or stricture of Divinitie And oft he casts an Hellish mist upon The face thereof that still appeareth one As the Suns globe but falshood is in show As various as the Moon and spotted so 'T is manifold and therefore apt to lead Many astray sith few with caution tread Errour is onely in request and he That keeps the old right way is sure to be Wronged by Novellists The bands of fair Society so oft dissolved are By falshood when at telling of each lye Some link thereof in sunder seems to fly That we may justly fear that harsh and rude Disorder will drive on the multitude To ruinous designs defacing quite All prints of Government and civil right Who constantly accords with truth hath gone A good way towards mans perfection And may well hope that he sometime shall see The clear well-head of true felicity Brave Cleopatra's draught of pulveriz'd Jewels and wine that aptly emblemiz'd Her dear affection to Mark Anthony Not half so precious was as verity Is in our mouths the rareness of the same Makes it of more esteem and greater fame Surely if still to a corrupted state Our manners change and minds degenerate Plain truth will seem a wonderment and we Shall on it look as at some prodigie SATYRE VII Against Vanity BUt that the soul 's not subject to decay I almost should have ventured to say That men are altogether slight and vain Those at the least that will not entertain Vertue that is the anchorage to stay Our Vessels in the worlds turmoiled Sea Such are the most of mortals here and there They 're ever hulling without Compass steere Troubles in stead of treasures do they find Lose their security and gain the wind 'T is so with men as if a child whose brain Much drowsie flegme and folly doth contain Should take up Pebbles where rich Pearls lay by Or stoop for strawes and let pure Amber lye Hence wiser judgments have been wont to throw Contempt at great'st affairs and slighted so The world as nothing were indeed therein Worthy their cares although they more should win Then all those Kings did lose which Caesars might And Alexanders terrour put to flight That grave Philosopher that us'd to drain For the worlds follies his grief-wounded brain Shew'd it too much respect but he whose light Humour laught at it did it much more right Sith onely trifling objects fill its Scene Matters of meer derision and disdain Who can be so austere as not to shake His Spleen with laughter when so many take Much pain to be ridiculous I 've known Phantastiques with the fumes of folly blown To such an height that they in their conceit Though despicably poor were Princely great Grandees Magnifico's who then would seign What royal equipage they would maintain What counsels they would use what lands they would With war infest and what in friendship hold Such like our Burbage are who when his part He acted sent each passion to his heart Would languish in a scene of love then look Pallid for fear but when revenge he took Recall his bloud when enemies were nigh Grow big with wrath and make his buttons fly Or like they are to Dionysius when Expulsed from the government of men He tutor'd boyes which he for subjects took And thought he sway'd a Scepter when he shook A rod and that his Lectures well might be His wonted Laws and rules of policie A great part of our little time we spend In airy phansies without aim or end That like to Atomes in the Sun do play In lighter brains Th' illusions of the day Do swarm as busily as those of night And waking dream we in our cares despight As if in mockage our conceptions were Form'd that our folly wiser heads might jeer How light and vain our cogitations are Whole Reams of brain-sick stories may declare Figments and sopperies which every age Puts forth and makes as publique as the Stage As it were not enough to be unwise Unless men did divulge their vanities Agrippa that did write with eager strain 'Gainst vanity of Arts did write in vain After a sort himself as one too sure That the worlds giddiness he nere could cure The greater part of books although they pass For currant works are form'd as Venus was Of froth and therefore are for Vulcan fit As strangers to the nobler wayes of wit Deserving well the fire for that more light Then smoke they are more noxious to the sight If those that forge the treasure of the brain Into such Volumes as are lewd or vain Were but as sharply censured as those That lend their arms to draw invasive foes Into their Coasts or spread maliciously Infective mischiefs whereof thousands dye What would become of Scriblers such as dare Pass through the mists of phansie to declare What depth of sense in every dream doth lye Or seem t' have read the book of destiny By telling fortunes or their papers stain With scurrile jests and passages obscene Who write as Aretine did print may well Think to be Gold-finders i' th' pit of Hell Or turn'd to Harpyes others to torment And plague with nastiness and noisome sent So those that write like Machiavel and be Still walking in the mists of policy May look to be made Counsellors of State To th' Prince of Shades and for such honour wait Less danger is in rocks then in such writs Those sometimes split our ships but these our wits Daily corrupt with phansies vile and vain They fill the floting vessel of the brain And though they promise fairly to the sense Yet never pay they for our times expence He that with Tully did himself amuse To find how oft the Oratour did use One kind of â—lose and wearied out his wit In noting whether Terence well did fit His lines in measure did he not almost Deserve the shame due to the whipping post For spending precious hours to understand Things cheap and fruitless as the high-way sand Those Poets likewise that have plaid the Apes In molding their conceits into the shapes Of globes of eggs of columns hatchets wings Of altars and of sundry other things Might on their Muses have more pity took And sav'd them from much torture by the book These are quaint vanities just like some toyes Devis'd by Tailors to please girls and boyes If in some humour with the stream I row And write such things I will withal go plow The sandy shore and my composures carve In sheets of ice poor phansies to preserve But what mean those that make their hearts with care Like to Prometheus liver hourly are Afflicting them with anxious pensiveness 'Bout future matters yea will more then guess At
TIMES out of TUNE Plaid upon HOWEVER In XX SATYRES By THOMAS BANCROFT JUVEN. Quicquid agunt homines votum timor ira voluptas Gaudia discurfus nostri farrago libelli est LONDON Printed by W. Godbid 1658 TO The nobly minded Gentleman and intimate friend of the Muses CHARLES COTTON of Berisford Esquire 〈◊〉 Sir THough he that writes as the Porcupine shoots his quills in a passionate mood as I do cares not much for the frowns of the muddy-pated multitude yet the number of Censors in our Common-wealth being greater than that of all Officers my Mute would gladly repose under your shadowing Lawrel that a flash of fierce displeasure may less dismay her Yet why should any Reader bend an angry brow at me that have not spotted one page here though it may otherwise seem with any ebullitions of a private spleen For though I have not seldome been surcharged with injuries yet have I learned to digest them with my daily bread and to think it more noble to contemn them then to confess their power by meditating a revenge Nor can I approve that bold speech of the sententious Poet as carrying too venomous a sting in it {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} Great Heaven fall on me with broad roof of brasse Which to the Ancients a just terrour was If I help not my friends and bring not those To sorrow and distresse that are my foes It must needs be granted that Satyres are not very seasonable when all sorts of vices the foul dregs of war are setled into an unwonted impudency and not onely some antiquated evils revived but others also added to their hateful number that came but lately steaming out of th' infernal Vaporary I can hardly in times so foully vitiated expect any fair construction of my Poem nay rather do I look that some squint ey'd Malevolo's whom I never came within a Bow-length of will be busily shooting their bolts at me But I shall lightlier regard such squib-like artillery if more solid and less censorious men such as your self Sir are known to be will but illustrate my lines with the beams of their favour You are an heir to great Wits as well as to large Revenues and have made proof thereof in so eminent a manner that all men behold you as an object of admiration As others therefore look up at you be you pleased to look down at me and to take in good part these tart fruits of my labours intended for condiments to your sweeter studies You are furnisht I hope with as may vertues as here are vices and I with you as much happiness to crown them as possibly can be fancied by Your officious servant Tho. Bancroft To my learned friend Mr. Tho. Bancorft on his Book of SATYRES AFter your many works of diverse kinds Your Muse to treated th' Auruncan path designs 'T is hard to write but Satyres in these dayes And yet to write good Satyres merits praise And such are yours and such they will be found By all clear hearts or patient with their wound May you but understanding Readers meet They 'l find you marching upon stodfast feet Although your honest hand seems not to stick To search this Nations ulcers to the quick Yet your intent with your invective strain Is but to launce and then to cure again When all the putrid matter is drawn forth That poisons precious souls and clouds their worth So old Petronius Arbiter apply'd Corr'sives unto the age he did deride So Horace Persius Juvenal among Those ancient Romans scourg'd the impious throng So Ariosto in our fathers times Reprov'd his Italy for sundry crimes So learned Barclay let his lashes fall Heavy on some to bring a cure to all So lately Wither whom thy Muse does far Transcend did strike at things irregular But all in one t' include so our prime wit In the too few short Satyres he hath writ Renowed Donne hath sorebuk'd his time That he hath scar'd Vice-lovers from their crimes Attended by your Satyres mounted on Your Muses Pegasus my friend be gone As erst the Lictors of the Romans went With Rods and Axes for the punishment Of ills born with them that all vice may fly That dares not stand the cure when you draw nigh ASTON COKAIN Baronet To his quondam Master and now much honour'd friend Mr. THO. BANCROFT on his Book of SATYRES ALthough the times be out of tune we see They 're likely to be tun'd again by thee Who on the strings of Discord strikes a strain So powerful Discord sure no more can reign And I commend thy Genius who could'st chuse A noble Patron to protect thy Muse For he who 'gainst the rapid stream doth swin Of vice had needt ' be held up by the chin Yet I presume thy Sayres may do more Then twenty such as terribly can roar And thunder Hell yet when the crack is gone No more can find their Text then we the stone But he who can the depth of thy Book sound Shall there see Vice with its own Deluge drown'd So that from Contraries conclude I may Thy Vertue 's much that chid'st all Vice away THO. LIGHTWOOD To his ingenious Friend Mr. Tho. Bancroft on his Book of SATYRES I Praise thy aims though to an ulcerous state So rankly gangree n'd â—orr'sâ—â—es come too late Can ink-hued Sylvanes from thy Bradley wood To cheeks with guilt so hatcht call modest blood Admit their uncouth garb procure some â—â—rugs The brawny Giants soon will sleight those â—uggâ— Smâ—rt Beadles though who are improv'd toth' By Sinâ—is terrors and Mounâ—Ebals curse worse Taketh ' warlike verse whose maiden feet were dy'de With blond in quarrel of their Masters Bride Pluck qâ—ilâ— from th' iron-wing'd Stymphalides Bold to vie â—afts with mighty Hâ—rcules Make parchment of those living Eâ—gines kins That Darts Bowes Quiver are the Porcupines Write Furies ' stead of Satyres for a Muse Invoke Megara Scorpion-Scourges use Some Almanack aspect Diurnat plot May turn our giddy Santo ' Quakers not Thy sharpess style Yet touch them to the quick The world 's a Bedlam laâ— the Lunatick WILLIAM BOTT To the worthy Authour of these SATYRES BOld and brave Bancroft that dar'st fearless tell The Devil his name though at the mouth of Hell I crowd into thy Squadrons bold to greet Those hands that are supporters to thy feet But 't is by these thou conquer'st for 't is fit This Brutish age were kickt not whipt to wit No Spartan Mastiff nor Nicaean Steed Can equal thee in courage or in speed When thy just ire forces the age to drink The gall and vinegar of thy whole some ink Whilst from the steam of tainted ulcerous breath It belches characters of Hell and death Satyres and Causticks must their Medicines be Whom Odes and Unctions cannot remedie Thy Surgery is proper for the Land Oh that thou hadst but Physick to thy hand Bear up thou canst not but victorious stand Where the brave Moreland Prince does lead the Van
become Tuneless as by harsh mischief strucken dumb Those Eulogies that did our Moor advance And learned Bellay in the Realm of France In Spain Alphonsus and in Germany Brave Maximilian must recanted be At least supprest if blinde Ignaro's may Go stumbling on in their destructive way But in despight of all Hell-hatched plots Damn'd conjurations and combined knots Of male-contents fair Science shall not long Thus droop but like the palm resist her wrong And having scatter'd all the clouds that ere The breath of envy rais'd more bright appear SATYRE III. Against the abuse of Poetry AT no time does my gall more over-flow Then when I see the Muses undergo Hard censures and into contempt to slide Through the vain lightness and phanrastick pride Of some that at hâ—gh Poetry do aime But of their mark to th' undertakers shame Fall short the full length of Apollo's Bow And where they would much Art meer errour show The best and loveliest things when time betraies Their natures to corruption lose their praise And grow most lothsome so sweet Poetry Though 't has with lofty numbers reacht the sky Falls deep into contempt when 't is employ'd 'Bout vanities which graver wits deride Or else to publick view doth naked set Obscenity like those in Vulcans net Amphion Linus Orpheus and the rest O' th' Muses sons the ancientest and best Whose souls were full of God and seem'd to be Rightly attemper'd to Heavens harmony Were not with greater honour entertain'd Then the Poetick Tribe is now disdain'd Because upon base trifles runs their rhyme Scarce touching ought that 's serious or sublime 'T is true the world owes its civility T' old Poets who by powerful harmony Men of most brutish fierceness did subdue And them from wilde Woods into Cities drew As into Hives by tinkling sounds are Bees Allur'd whose homes were hollow Rocks or Trees But lately have our wits been bold t' expâ—ess Like Pans Priests all uncivil wantonness Sug'ring the Cup of Vice that it with more Sweet pleasure might go down then heretofore How many sheets of paper have been stain'd Whence Wit and Learning are the more disdain'd With down-right ribauldry foul acts of lust And other trumperies more fit like dust To be to th' dunghil swept then ere to be Suffer'd t' approch the Muses company All kinds of wickedness have in this age Plai'd their licentious pranks upon the Stage In such sort that Spectators few or none Have thence sans danger of infection gone Which caus'd our strict Theosophyes t' accuse Of so much lewdness the Dramatick Muse And cry Playes mainly down as if they were The Devils works and Hellish marks did beare Sending them from the Cock Pit and Black-Friers To th' pit infernal and unpitying fires Thus as vile rust dorh to rich metals stick And as a venomous Canker to the quick Eats verdant plants so on fair Poesie Creeps foul abuse and sinks it wretchedly Into disgrace that else might reach by right High Fame and shine with pure Phoeboean light No forms of speech like strains Poetical Can sound things sacred and celestial Nor high and brave atchievements can relate With such elation and magnifique state As gallant Verse that doth aspire to hit The roof of Heaven in noble flights of wit Is it not meerly then indign and base This ornament of brave wits to disgrace By using pens as Surgeons do their tools 'Bout nasty things such as great nasty fools May loudly laugh at and by falling on Low Themes the subjects of derision As if divine Iopas had made choice With his gilt Harp and more harmonious voice T' have sung of earth-bred Reptiles when he told How the Celestial Orbs in order roll'd Not that great Emperour who much time spent In killing sawcy Flyes nor he that meant To gain fame by his great dexterity In casting small seeds through a needles eye Nor yet the Souldiers of Caligula Who marching in bright arms and battle-ray Scrambled for Cockles on the slimy beach Were so ridiculous as those that reach At the brave Lawrel and presume to climbe High Helicon yet in low spriteless rhyme Wire-draw their wits and taint sweet Poesie With the rank steams of loth'd impurity No short-heel'd Gâ—glot falls to lewdness now Nor faithless wife deforms her husbands brow Nor any such licentious prank occurs In Town or City but some Poet stirs The mud thereof and sers his servile rhymes On running to dispread th' infectious crimes And with what Laudatives they interlard Their Writings when they look for great reward From brave Magnifico's or would raise high Their Verse anothers Muse to fortifie 'Gainst Envies onsets is to few unknown That know the strain of adulation Lately and squeamishly I did ore-look A thing presum'd to be a witty book And weighty too for at the least a score Of dabling Rhymers up the work did shore As forked sticks do Vines men of all trades I think t' uphold th' invention join'd their aids And cry'd it up extremely when alas A low and fragmentary piece it was So poor a trifle that it well might go To beg and take what others would bestow Yet scarce live to give thanks but at the age Of Ballads or Diurnals quit the Stage I likewise put mine Opticks to much pain Whilest the hot fire-work of anothers brain I lookt on one that for a rampant maid Of vile dishonour the sly Pandar plaid And thus with ranting strains of bastard rhyme Taught her to court a Gallant of the time ' Sir since a green-sick weakness 't is to veil ' Fair love and true affection to conceal ' Mine in despight of Parents Aunt or Uncle ' Shall sparkle tow'ards you like a bright Carbuncle ' Or rather like the stout As bestus stone ' That once inflam'd fears no extinction ' Your beauty others praise I le say no more ' Then that your curl'd locks shine like golden Ore ' Or like the manes o' th' Horses of the Sun ' Playing in flames before young Phaeton ' Your Front 's a chalky Mount wherein are plow'd ' Furrows of love with fruitfulness endow'd ' And like to pretty Bugle horns do bend ' Your brows from wrongs your dear eyes to defend ' Eyes that are Orbs whose motions seldome stop ' Whence through your gemmy nose seem stars to drop ' I call your cheeks fresh Rose-cakes sweet and fair ' And shreads of soft perfumed Velvet are ' The portals of your voice which opening wide ' Blush that they cannot their Pearl-treasures hide ' Set to immure your tongue left it should fly ' With Angels as it strikes their harmony ' Scarce do I know wherewith to match your chin ' Whose Down in softness would put down your skin And whose neat dimple of Loves dart the dint ' Presents a work of excellence in print ' Thence a Nectarean Alley leads mine eye ' Down to your breasts all-beauteous Galaxie ' That a rich bank of pleasure bord'reth on ' Whose
invade His person presently at such alarms He 's ready Giant-like to take up arms Against great Heaven and sticks not to let fly Indignant speeches 'gainst the Deity Just as the Thracians when fierce thunder tears The Clouds shoot arrows at the Heavenly Spheres Such persons stand upon the slippery brink Of ruine and as ready are to sink Into deep mischief as was Xerxes when Attended with a numerous host of men He to high Athos bold defiance sent As scorning by this lowest element To be ore-topt he threatned to oppress Natures dominions with his mightiness To make the earth grone and the Ocean quake Yet straight with wings of fear his flight did take His troops being chaced by Leonidas As by a Lion Sylvane Herds or as Thick swarms of Gnats along the dampish shores Are by a storm disperst when Boreas rores O vain Presumption that Ixâ—on-like Dost grasp a Cloud and would'st with terrour strike Thine enemies mock'st others with deceits Yet art thy self took with delusive haits As thou threw'st Angels from Celestial state So men by thee rais'd dost thou ruinate And as thou humbledst Babel to the ground And didst the Language of the world confound So greatest works thy pride still overthrows And fills whole Kingdoms with confused woes Yet 't is our fate or folly to run on Still in high-wayes of bold presumption Without restraint We like poor Prisoners cast Into a Dungeon on this Globe are plac'd The stair-foot of the world and sediment Of Nature whither all her dregs are sent Excretions and impurities yet we Think the whole world maintains an harmony For our sole sakes and that the glorious frame Of Heaven at our content doth chiefly aim Yea we pretend to know the Stars so well As if we did i' th' Heavenly houses dwell Vain mortals have we stellifi'd have all Along with Antiques hung th' Olympian Hall And as Celestials did affect our sporâ—s Bull Bear Dog Lion beasts of other sorts And sundry Fowls have we advanced high And starr'd therewith the fore-head of the sky Some high-flown wits play upon wing and strive To know what plots forsooth the stars contrive Consult with them about all great affairs As of Religion Empire peace and warrs Presumeing that as in the Book of Fate They read in Heaven the change of every State They calculate nativities and show What Fortunes in the paths of life shall go Along with men and what at last befall If their starre-doctrine prove authentical But if all grand mutations they fore-know Why did they not with all their art fore-show That to th' Religion which we now embrace Both Jewish Ceremonies should give place And Heathenish rites They did indeed foretell Which their bold rules doth shamefully resell That our Religion honour'd with the Cross Should fail and feel an universal loss When once three hundred threescore years were gone After that dread world-shaking Passion But their words were as far from truth as even Their arms from fathoming the arch of Heaven For then did Christianisme so mainly spread As if th' officious winds had carried It on their wings O the proud dorages Of shallow-headed mortals that profess The knowledge of the things they nere can reach Such as th' Intelligences scarce can teach Man wanting wit t' account himself a fool Is by the very Insects set to School Yet looks on 's fellow-creatures with as much Disdain as if his haughty brow did touch The roof of Heaven and with such tyranny Ore-awes the rest of Natures family As if they serv'd not to adorn the main Frame of the world or did not appertain To the same Lord on whom such injury Reflects and strikes at 's aweful Majesty But why poor Earthling dost thou swell so high Dost thou not see that beasts sagacity Puzzles thy reason that exalts thee so And their instinctive powers thy wits out-go So that their operations though thine eyes Frequently meet them pass for rarities Besides whereas the changes they fore-show Of th' air and more then man do seem to know The mind of Heaven or with it to maintain Some intercourse it frees them from disdain And such contempt as commonly among Frothy discourses is upon them flung No less to their own kind are men unkind Whilst lifted up like feathers in the wind With fumes of pride and hatching in their brain Mis-shap'd opinions they would yet constrain Others t' embrace their brood and as decrees Or settled laws obtrude their novelties He that upon the Moon had spent his wit And found both Sea and Land enough in it To furnish a new world with what a bold Front did he broch th' opinion he did hold Striving on others judgments to put tricks And make them like himself all Lunaticks So he that to the Earth gave motion and Would have the Sun as the worlds Centre stand Taught Magisterially as onely he Had chew'd the Kernel of Philosophy Surely if we could learn of wandering birds T' use wings as we can teach them t' utter words Our curious pride would make a flight more high Then Icarus his pitch thâ—t it might pry Into those wonders which from mortal eyes Are set at distance in the aweful skyes We would try whether th' Elemental fire Have the same heat with ours and would aspire To be acquainted with the Selenites If any such there be and feed our sights Upon such objects as young Phaeton In his wild wand'rings fixt his eyes upon Such fumes of vanity dilate the brain Of man that he conceits it doth contain As much as Heav'ns circumf'rence though so lame And shrunk's his Knowledge that the narrow frame Of his own body he ignores much less Can pierce int' incorporeal essences You sons of Aesculapius tell me why You faulter in your judgments frequently If you can dive into each deep recess Of bodies and know all the offices Of Nature there and of a watch so great Can the distemper'd wheels in order set But boldly some give hot as others cold Receipts against diseases that do hold Men in an equal thraldome some again Apply moist things to dull the edge of pain Others commend exiccatives some sluce The bloud out others do prefer the use Of sweating 'gainst which others too inveigh Because bad humours do the good betray Thus like Sea-robbers fasten'd back to back They look aversly and poor Patients rack By their distractions But how should they know Right cures that know not whence diseases grow For one sayes that the cause thereof doth lye In atomes which into our bodies fly Another doth derive such maladies From bloud distemper'd in our arteries A third affirms our spirits faulty are A fourth accuseth our inspired air A fifth upbraids us with bad nutriment Others there are that from all these dissent Then whom can we believe that they can tell What our diseases are or where they dwell They make me sick with terms as Lawyers doe Their Clients yet I cannot but laugh too To hear our Emp'ricks
were all cramm'd with gold ' His large expence and idleness beside ' Will shortly work his fall and bring the pride ' Of his nice wife acquainted with her birth 'To take more knowledg of her mother earth ' The woman is well skill'd in making showes ' And in an homely out-side garb she goes ' Talks much of Heav'n professing sanctity ' More then would furnish a whole Nunnery ' But O she bears a Luciferian mind ' Apt in each company to raise the wind ' Of her own praise nor surely is she free ' From the worst kind of womans levity ' For a young Gallant privately 't is said ' Frequents her house and if her husbands head ' Be not horn-heavy like Actaeons now ' It is because he hath a brazen brow ' An hardned front that will not bud but showes ' Like to a beaten way where nothing grows Thus was this soul Defamer pleas'd to vent Heart-swelling rancour'gainst the innocent And by his biting wickedly behind Gave others notice of his currish kind Mastiffs and Lions openly do make Their valour known as if they scorn'd to take Advantages but fainter beasts will steal Closely to mischief secretly assail So generous spirits fairly face to face Will question those that offer them disgrace Or wrong them otherwise but baser Hinds In terms of obloquy discharge their minds And fall like hail-storms on the backs of those Whose presence awes them and suspends their blowes The tongue perfus'd with much humidity A member is so quick and slippery And so much black corruptive malice rests In the dark lurking-holes of humane breasts That as some rabid beasts will here and there Be snatching so some men will not forbear To lay reprochful mouths in every place On worthier persons seeking to disgrace Those sometimes whom they never saw nor know Whether their just esteem be high or low When toyish Fortune at our English Court Made with great Gallants not a little sport O what an heavy fate has oft been known To fall on those that have int' favour grown With gracious Princes when their glories Sun Has by the mists of every one begun To be obscur'd then forthwith as they say That the night-wandring wolves of Syria Bark at the Moon the mad-brain'd multitude With a calumnious cry the men pursu'd Nor calm'd their fury till they saw them down Quite under foot that were so near the Crown Great and irrepairable is the wrong That 's done to men by an invenom'd tongue Not all the herbs Medea pickt and chose Can cure the wounds thereof its secret blowes Are oft heard farther then the loudest cracks Of thunder or th' AEgyptian Cataracts A good report spreads slowly quickly growes Cold in the mouth and doth its vigour lose But an ill rumour seems to ride upon The plumes of Boreas suddenly is gone Past a recal and keeps its aery form In the despight o' th' most impetuous storm Nois'd through the world are the few blemishes Of Alexander pride wrath drunkenness That sometime mov'd him with rude Steel to try Where his dear foster-brothers heart did lye But of his Princely parts and vertues who Relation makes what eulogies do show How pearls of pity for the wretched case Of foil'd Darius trickled down his face How nobly he his wailing Queen did treat Who though her beauty was no common bait Would not dishonour her himself nor see Others prophane her shrine of chastity So our third Richards cruelty and great Ambition reeking both with bloud and sweat Are matters frequent in our mouths but who Tells what endowments Nature did bestow Upon this Potentate to make thereby A fair amends for his deformity Who mentions his sagacity or hears Of his great heart that knew no common fears Or of his deep unfathom'd policy That did complete such rules of equity Such salutary Laws as will be while Fixt is this Centre famous in this He. Some that affect a quick facetious vein Of speaking and their hearers entertain With jesting upon others by and by Pass the just bounds of fair urbanity And as we see when nimble Squirrels play With nuts and turn them this and th' other way They lastly crack them so when these have made Some sport with others errours they invade Their credits at the last and make thereby An ill compound of mirth and injury Those that delight to turn the point of wit On others thus and care not where they hit Nor yet regard whose fame they violate Are oft repaid with this vindictive fate That whilst they make some men ridiculous Themselves become to all men odious Good same is dear and tender as our eyes And none can brook another should ds-prize His estimate much less should at him cast Disgraceful language and his credit blast Though of the clearness of their judgments eye Few men can boast yet too too forwardly We censure others skill and books peruse Errors to find and Authors to abuse What Author 's is more grave or exquisite Then Pliny that so punctually doth write Of Natures works and took such pains to be Well learned in her copious History Yet some that measure others qualities By their own habits with mistakes and lyes Are bold to charge him as if purposely He guli'd the world with specious vanity And more directly at a shadowy fame Did look then at substantial truth did aim The like did to our Mandeville befall Who having measur'd of this earthly ball A greater part then any of his time When he re-visited his native Clime Publisht his travels that his Countrey so Might what with pain he found with pleasure know Now what was the success his Readers threw Contempt upon his news more strange then true Thought his reports accounting them such toyes And sigments as phantastiques oft devise Yet afterwards when travellers did make Further discov'ries and surveyes did take Of this main Globe they found his wonders true I th' greater part and gave him praises due To his high merits making him thereby A just amends for wrongful obloquy What shall I say of those that dare defame The dead corrupt the odours of their name Disturb their quiet dust and as it were Fight with their shades This surely doth appear Of secret striking the most deadly way And makes men not unlike to beasts of prey Which that they may be ready still to tear The bodies of the slain pursue the Rear Of warlike Armies Yet as Sylla's lewd And brutish rage on weeping Anio strew'd Th' ashes of Marius so some men there are So wildly impious that they little care How much they violate the dead with base Effects of malice studying their disgrave This seems to make the sad sepulchral stone Lye heavier upon those that hence are gone And seeds of Hemlock as it were doth sowe Where else the Rose and violet might grow When men are under Deaths arrest and have Made down-tight payment in the humble grave Of their last debt to wrong them
needs must be A rude extreme of harsh impiety An horrid wickedness enough to make Without imprison'd wind the earth to quake SATYRE XVIII Against Injustice I Have been still so blest I thank my Stars As not to raise nor soment any jars But rather patiently would put up wrong Then hire the service of a claim'rous tongue To plead my right I see in suit prevails None but the rich gold ever turns the Scales And as an Atlas to our motions here Carries all causes all the sway doth bear Upholds all factions sets awork all hands And leads all hearts as in triumphal bands As Sabine Souldiers on Tarpeia cast Their bracelets and their bucklers till at last Under their deadly weight her life was spent So greater persons fatally torment Fair justice under wealths oppressive load Upon such mischief-workers worst bestow'd It is a just complaint that long ago Justice forlook these regions here below Replete with wickedness and to the skies Went where she might mans insolence despise Yet some resemblance of old equity She left and that the same 's so wretchedly With bloud disfigur'd is the too well known Cause of our present grief and endless mone Thou that art wrong'd and any thing dost lose Except thy wits be wise and rather choose To sit down with thy loss then go to law Whence on thy self thou shalt be sure to draw Fresh injuries nor ever have redress Unless thy purse in Angels languages Do speak thy grievance or great friends thou find That in our wars to th' winning side inclin'd Though thou beest nere so honest and the sky No clearer then thy hearts integrity And though the wrongs for which thou dost implead Another in the Laws full view be laid Yet if withal thou under Hatches be And being tost in straits of poverty Canst to no harbour of great friendship get Thou 'lt fare no better then an over-set Ship in a storm thy labour and thy cost And hope of recompence will all be lost Many that might law-quarrels well decide Are like to hungry Kites that far and wide Seek for a prey and build their nests on high With meer acquists of their rapacity If thou beest troubled with a plethry Of a full fortune as we daily see That vices and vexations wait upon Wealth be some Lawyer thy Physician And thou wilt find he soon will macerate The corpulency of thy great estate Attenuate its bulk contract its size Pare to the quick its proud excrescencies And when thy golden plumes are pluckt in law Be one to laugh at thee like AEsops Daw What brought Caninio to an ebb so low In his estate but that he still let flowâ— His wealth among the pettifogging sort That which long bills of charges did cut short His large intrado who was high they say In Fortunes favour as most apt to play The fool in turning still the point of law On men almost for th' wagging of a straw At least three hundred Crowns he once let fly After a Goose that was too waggishly Took from his Coop his choler so to move Who as his life did wrangling ever love But could from such a suit expect small gains To compensate his charges and his pains Some wits derided him and said that Fowl Might well be one that sav'd the Capitol And if the man to wars did ever goe Would in his helmet make a goodly show And when the bustling winds their strength did try Would seem to hiss and threat his enemy My task were endless should I undertake To tell what small account the most did make Of noble justice in the stormy dayes Of our late war when many men did raise Themselves by rapine and from poor and low Estates to wealth and eminence did grow One such a strangely metamorphos'd man Is that imperious varlet Putean Who till wild discord soft her sparkling brands And fir'd our hearts bestirr'd his brawny hands Digg'd in a quarry for his daily bread And hardly was with fruits of labour fed All ratter'd like a shaggy Satyre went Was despicably low and indigent But when loud drums and trumpets did awake Our drowzy spirits he resolv'd to take Another course new fortunes would assay In the next Army took a Souldiers pay Nothing at all regarded wrong nor right Nor yet for conquest but for coin did fight Fight did I say nay rather Mercury The Mars he serv'd of fraud and theevery Upheld the trades rang'd all about for prey Plunder'd in towns and robb'd upon the way Hence rak'd he up much wealth in little time To high preferment wickedly did climb And in a fair house whence he did expell His fathers Landlord does the Pagan dwell But as we see a little ball of snow To a great Globe by volutation grow Then quickly to dissolve so may we say That such mens heap'd-up riches will decay In a small tract of time and that they shall Sink in the gulph of sudden Funeral Those vast Sicilian monsters Polypheme And others whom old Poets made their theme What were they but great Robbers that did spoil All those they met with in their fruitful Ile But as the vengeful hand of Heaven ere long Repaid them for their violence and wrong So will all those that are unjustly bent Be taught their duty by just punishment For very pensiveness my heart doth ake And all my bowels with sad horrour quake To thick how frequently with fatal blowes Our Martialists ore-turn'd their fellowes those Of the same side I mean when secret spight Or sudden passion made them bold to smite Yet some were scarcely question'd very few Felt deadly punishment for murder due Justice was seldome set awork among Rude blades the hasty instruments of wrong Methinks some Comet in the troubled air Should now appear with bloudy streaming hair Like to a fiery Scourge t' upbraid thereby Our horrid murders and harsh cruelty And threat with sharper punishments to smite Such Monsters as in mischief most delight O for stout Theseus or strong Hercules That would adventure for immorral praise To pave our Cities with the heads of those That both by fraud and force all right oppose With juggling hands their gainful games do play O' th' very house of prayer make a prey Both Church and Academies dare despoil And on their ruines raise a lofty pile Of wealth and dignity The sons of great Phoebus have small encouragement to beat Their brains in studies or to change their looks T' a pale and wan complexion like their books When almost all rewards except the Bay T' adorn their brows withal are forc'd away And as much honour to Gads hill is done As to Parnassus or fair Helicon When justice does pretend to th' greatest sway She yet acts little in the nobler way Of compensation Sometime she 's severe When men that shew more guilt then gold appear Before her or her busie servants wait Till some great person forfeits his estate She readily will punish such but when Does she propose