Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n
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A08666
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Ouids Walnut-tree transplanted; Nux. English
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Ovid, 43 B.C.-17 or 18 A.D.; Hatton, Richard.
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1627
(1627)
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STC 18973; ESTC S120564
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2,861
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18
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OVID'S WALNVT-TREE transplanted LONDON Printed for Robert Milbourne 1627. TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPFVLL his euer honored Mother the Ladie MARIE HATTON THe natiue soyle of this tree is Italie wherby the hands of the Latine Muses it was planted aboue sixteene hundred yeeres agoe being of so excellent vigour and durance that no reuolution of time could bring it to decay It seemes the Nymphs of the woods gaue to it a speciall boone of protection against old age more than they haue afforded to the okes of Hauering Parke Which when I walk among them seeme from their doted tops and emptie trunks to say to moe that heart of akâ— is no armour of proofe against the sithe of Father Time This our tree standing in open and vnfenced ground I haue made bold to seise vpon and remoue hither By which transplanting of a stocke so growne and conueyed so farre it is no maruell if it now droope in our cold English soyle especially by reason of the vnskilfulnesse of the gardner Who being but a fresh apprentice to the translating trade may iustly feare that this Latine plant will bee thought more rudely battered by his rough English penne then euer it was by the staues of Rustick Passengers Thus with presentment of all filiall dutie I craue acceptation of you my deare Mother in hope that you will vouchsafe to look vpon this tree set in our fields at home on purpose for your owne view though you are like to finde very little fruit vpon it worthie your tasting So wishing an happie New yeare to you humbly crauing your Motherly blessing I alwaies rest Lambith this first of Ianuarie 1624. Your obedient eldest Sonne though but a poore planter in this kind RICHARD HATTON OVIDS WALNVTTREE transplanted I The poore nuttree ioyning to the way Offend not any and yet euery day By idle trauailers that passe along Each stone or cudgell at my pate is flong Theeues lead to hanging oft are ston'd they say When peoples furie brooks not lawes delay I ne're offend vnlesse it seeme a crime To yeeld my owner yeerely fruit in time But heretofore when fruit was more respected Good trees were cherisht barren ones reiected Good planters then when store of fruit was borne Were wont their Gods with garlands to adorne Thy grapes O Bacchus oft thou didst admire Myneruas oliues were admi'rd by hir And apples had their mothers limbs downe torne If props and shores had not her armes vpborne All wiues did then by our example beare And in those dayes all matrons mothers were But when the fruitlesse sycamores were held The best of all the trees dame earth did yeeld Wee bearers if my selfe I may so call Brought them broad leaues but little fruit at all Our bearing now scarce holds two yeares together And that which comes is blasted by the weather To beare a child by her that would seeme faire Is thought too base true mothers now are rare If fruitlesse then thus haplesse were I not In wretched mother Clytemuestra's lot If vines knew this no grapes then would they bring Nor from Mineruas tree would oliues spring Tell this but to the peare or apple-tree They then will stint and alwayes barren bee The cherrie tree that beares blush-coloured fruit Would bee a barren stocke if that she knew 't Nor doe I enuie them though barren stocks Stand fast and are not hurt with any knocks Behold that row of trees stands whole and sound Which nothing bear for which men shold the wound But I am hurt no man my boughes doth spare My barke is slayed my wood and heart lyes bare Hate is no cause of this but hope of gaine Let other trees beare fruit and they 'le complaine Halfe hang'd is he that hath much wealth ground Who hath no fleece will scarce be guiltie found Theeues he may feare that loaden is with gold An emptie purse makes Iourney safe and bold So am I set vpon because I bring Good store of fruit leafe bearers safely spring Nay and poore shrubs sometime that neighbour mee Are bang'd and â—orne as pittie is to see Yet to be beaten for they fruit haue none Ill neighbourhood doth send them many a stone And trust me not if proofe doe not it show For other trees stand sound which farther grow If trees were wise and knew where best to root They would be sure to stand hence fortie foot Wretch that I am who thus with losse abused Am hatefully for neighbourhood accused But see my owners care and bounteous hand Who giues me but the ground in which I stand I without setting spring and grow apace And next the way is oft my homely place The fruitfull fields doe me so harmefull thinke That I am shouldred out to th' vtmost brinke My shadie branches neuer prun'd hang rude And at my roote this soile is nere renude Though by the sunne I often scorched bee Ther 's none with watring that refresheth mee But when my nut with ripenesse cleanes her hull Then comes the Pole and threats my crowne to pull And least of stones I onely might complaine With staues my loaden boughes they bruise againe My pulpe for second course men vse to haue A thriftie housewife doth my choice nuts saue These are the tooles of boyes-play Cockvpall Cobnut and Fiue holes trundling like a ball And Castle nut where one on three doth sit He winnes the foure that any one can hit Another downe a steepe set board doth throw And winnes by hitting any nut below Another Odde or euen playes a game At which he winnes that can the number name Others chalke figures in triangle fashion Much like great Deltas starrie constellation In which the walnuts set in distance like One throwes and winnes all that his stick doth strike Sometime in distance set a part doth stand In which one throwes a nut with luckie hand Happie that tree that growes in priuate fields Shee all her tribute to her master yeelds She neither out-cryes heares nor rumbling wheeles Nor from the neighbouring way the dust shee feeles All that shee beares must for her master bee Which shee at once in compleat troope can see But I ner'e keepe my fruit till it grow ripe To soone they rob my boughes with many a stripe My shell but soft my kernell milke as yet My nuts for any vse can ner'e be fit My fruit is common some perhaps will say Get it who can it borders on the way If this be law your neighbours barley mow Plucke oliues let not his poore pothearbs grow Let forragers inuade your Citie gates And rattle London walls vpon your pates Let it bee lawfull made or thought a trifle To rob your Goldsmiths shops and Iewels rifle Let roisters snatch your coyne and precious stones Or what goods else they can and make no bones But all is well God blesse our good Kings life Who keepes vs safe from robberie and strife His awfull scepter doth our Citie guide In blessed peace and all his Realmes beside What good get I poore nut by this though peace Be o're the world if my blowes cannot cease Therefore the frighted birds dare build no nest Vpon my armes nor pearch here for their rest If on my forked boughes there rest a stone He sits as if he thought the towne his owne They that for other faults are oft accused Will stand in 't t was not they they are abused But they that rob me cannot well denie it Written vpon their fingers you may spie it That which I brand them with is my deare bloud Wash while they will their washing does no good Wearie of loathed life how oft haue I Wisht my root withered and my branches dry How oft with whirlewinds to be ouerturned Or with a flash of lightning to be burned O that a storme would dash them to the earth Or could I cast them by abortiue birth The cause withdrawne past is all dangerous doubt The hunted Beauer so his stones bites out What heart haue I when clownes doe cudgels take And prye where they their battry best may make