long or no Or Rich or Poor howe're my Fortunes go Live here at Rome or banish't take my flight Whatever is my state of Life I 'le write Well Sir I see your Life then can'nt be long Some great Ones faith will stop your railing Tongue 4. How Sir Lucilius that did first ingage In writing Satyrs and that lash't the Age And strip't our Foplings of their Lyons skin In which they look't so gay all foul within Did Loelius or did Scipio hate his Muse Or storm when He Metellus did abuse The Great-ones and the Crowd did discommend And valued Vertue only and her Friend No no They treated him and thought him good And when remov'd from business and the Crow'd Would keep him Company would laugh and jest And sport until their little Meat was drest What e're I am altho I must submit To wise Lucilius in Estate and Wit Yet I with Great-ones live this all confess And envy tho unwilling grants no less And tho she thinks me soft will find me tough And break her Teeth for I have strength enough I hope Trebatius this you grant is true Yes Sir but 't is my pious Care for You My Love that makes me give you this advice Take heed of Scandal Horace and be wise Well Sir if any scand'lously derides Then let him suffer as the Law provides If justly mighty Caesar is his Friend He loves such Poems and he will defend And thus if You a Man of spotless Fame Shall lash another that deserves the shame And He grows mad Indicts or Sues Thee for 't The foolish Action shall be turn'd to sport He laugh't and jeer'd at You discharg'd the Court. SATYR II. The Heads of the Second Satyr 1. The profit of a spare Diet. 2. The Difference between that and a sordid Table 3. The advantages of it in respect of Mind and Body 4. Against Luxury 5. Thrift the best security against Fortune 1. HOw great a Vertue 't is how a great good To live content and with a little Food These are not mine but wise Ofellus Rules An honest Man but yet unlearn'd in Schools Learn not when full or when a sumptuous Feast With show and sight disturbs the eager Guest Or else oppress and leave the easie mind Averse to Good and to ill Rules inclin'd But seek with me before that Thou hast din'd And why this Caution If I can I 'le tell Brib'd Judges ne're Examine Causes well Go take some Exercise pursue the Chace Or Hunt ride the great Horse or run a Race Handle the Roman Arms those heavier far Than Groecian Toys or else go throw the Bar Or play at Ball be eager at the sport And make thy Game seem pleasant and but short Now when this Exercise hath made Thee sweat And rais'd thy Stomach and thou fain would'st eat Then scorn to tast unless 't is dainty Meat When thirsty scorn to drink refuse to Dine Unless Thou hast the best and racy Wine Besides the Butler's gone abroad to play No costly Fishes can be caught to day The Winds defend them and the Seas are rough Then Bread and Salt will please thee well enough How so And prithee how can this be done Why Sir the pleasure that 's in eating known Is not i' th' Meat but in thy self alone Make Exercise thy Sawce let that excite For fleamy and a squeasy Appetite Nor Trout nor Tench nor Oysters can delight Yet I shall scarce perswade our curious Men Let me advise and talk and talk agen Not to eat Peacock rather than a Hen. For They are prejudic'd because the price Is great and his gay Feathers please the Eyes As if those made it better do'st Thou Feast On those prais'd Plumes And do those fill thy guest Or doth it look as gawdy when 't is drest Then since Hens flesh is quite as good 't is plain The Peacock is preferr'd for 's gawdy Train But grant some difference here yet how do'st know If this same Pike be River Fish or no Caught here in Tyber or in open Seas For Thou do'st make a difference too in these Mad Fool thou praisest Mullets vastly great Which thou must mash e're thou canst dress or eat The greatness pleases then yet all dislike Some bigger Fish and scorn the larger Pike Pray what 's the Cause of this Oh! let me see Perhaps because as Nature's Laws Decree One usually is small the other great Men seldom hungry scorn the common Meat But says the Glutton I love a larger Fish It looks so Noble in a Lordly Dish But you moist Winds now hear be kind and good Corrupt their Meat and taint their costly Food Tho 't is but newly taken taint their Bore And let their Rhombus stink e're brought to shore When plenty too profuse in vain invites And strives to raise the squeasy Appetites When the full Glutton strives in vain to eat And takes sharp Herbs before his dainty Meat We do not always feed on Sole and Bore But use cheap Eggs and Olives midst our store So greatest Feasts have something that is poor First Gallio's Kitchin infamous did grow For dressing Sturgeon 't was not long ago What had the Sea then fewer Soles than now No but the Soles did then securely rest Then nothing did but Winds and Waves molest And the poor Stork liv'd safely in his Nest Until a Proetor taught us how to use These Things and made us foolishly profuse And so if one would bring new sorts of Food And stoutly say a roasted Moor-hen's good Our Fops would imitate and praise his skill Our Fops that are so easie bent to ill 2. A sordid Table and a thrifty one Ofellus thinks distinct in vain they shun One Vice that to the other madly run Old Aviden Surnam'd The Dog eats Sloes And Olives five years old as bad as those These are his Meat and all the Wine He drinks Is eager still his Oyl corrupt and stinks And that when very fine when neatly drest And at a Birth-day or a Marriage Feast When He would be Profuse and Prodigal He pours himself upon his little Cale Well then what would you have a Wise Man do What Table keep you have propos'd me Two And which Sir must I imitate of these The choice is hard and it is hard to please Sir He lives well that keeps the middle State And neither leans too much to this nor that Such when he bids his Slaves do this and this And tasks them too as every Master his Will not be cruel as old Albutius is Nor yet like Noevius when he makes a Feast With costly Oyntment will He wash his guest For that too is a fault a vice at least 3. Now learn what good attends a sparing Meal What pleasure and what profit First thou' rt well Thy Health improv'd thy Body free from pain But now that Meat confus'd doth hurt a Man Thou hast experience and sufficient proof One single Dish did feed Thee well enough Thy Stomach took it but when
And gather'd up the Relicts of the Feast The Bones and all that might offend the Guest Just as at Ceres Feast th' Athenian Maid Comes black Hydaspes bearing on his Head Large Falks of White and Alcon Flasks of Red. Then says mine Host My Lord if more than these You like another call for what you please My Cellar 's stor'd Poor Wealth dishonest Pride But prethee tell me who was there beside Sir I sate first and stay I think 't was so Turinus next Vibidius sate below Next Balatro below him Porcius lyes Porcius the merry'st archest Wag that is To swoop whole Custards and to swallow Pies All uninvited but as Lords are wont Mecoenas brought them all on his account Next above these Nomentan takes his place He that could point at every hidden Sawce For we the rest on Fish and Fowl did feast Concealing different from their proper tast This streight appear'd when by his luscious rules He carv'd for me th' untasted guts of Soles And after to instruct me gravely said Figs pluck't before the Moon is full look red But thro this difference would you nicely pry He 'l tell you more He 's more expert than I. Mean while Vibidius in a jeering tone Crys Balatro come prethee nothings done Unless we drink him dry a Bigger Glass At that Death-pale spread o're our Fuscus face For good stout drinkers He did chiefly fear ' Cause such when full with greater freedom jeer Or ' cause hot Liquors pall the subtle tast And so would spoyl the goodness of his feast Yet on it goes the Bowls are freely crown'd And supernaculum the health goes round The chiefest Guests the while few bumpers tost They spar'd the Bottles and the bleeding Host Now comes midst swimming Shrimps a Lampry spread In a large Dish and thus the Master said This Fish was caught when full of Spawn that Course Is good for after Spawning's done 't is worse The Broth is made of Oyl the best that flow'd From the Venafrian Press to make it good Wine five years old and Caviare I joyn In boyling Sirs I use Italian wine But when 't is boyl'd with Pepper spic'd and drest With Vinegar the Chain Pickle's best To boyl green Rockets with 't was never known Before my time I 'me sure that Art 's my own Salt water Crawfish first Cotillus stew'd And kept them whole for they are better food Then when i th' Shell the Pickle makes them good But whilst he talkt and whilst He prais'd the Fish The Hangings tumbling down fell o're the Dish Bringing black dust as much as Whirlwinds raise When nimble Storms sweep o're the dusty ways We started all and thought it worse than 't was But when no harm appear'd each kept his place Our Host streight hung his head He wept and sigh'd As if his darling Son had lately dy'd He had wept on his Grief have known no end But wise Nomentan thus reliev'd his Friend Unlucky Chance what God is so unkind Thou lov'st to break the measures Man design'd Some bit their Napkins yet could scarce forbear To laugh aloud whilst with a bitter Sneer Crys jeering Balatro Well we strive in vain 'T is the sad fate of Life and none can gain By Labour Fame that answers to their Pain That ever I should prove so troublesome For one fine Treat when I could dine at home That I should vex you to provide a Feast To see your Broth well boyl'd your Servants drest Besides th' unlucky chance that waits on all As if as but just now the Hangings fall The Footboy stumbling spoyl a costly fish Or Plowman Servant trip and break the dish But as in Captains oft ill chance reveals The Entertainers Wit which good conceals Then says mine Host Ah may'st Thou still be blest Thou art so good a Man so kind a Guest And calls for 's Shoes then you may quickly hear Divided whispers spread thro every Ear. No Play could ever please me half so well But what you laught at after prethee tell Whilst hot Vibidius with a waggish look Crys to the Servants is the Bottle broak That I can get no Wine to this dry Feast And merry Balatro promotes the jest Mine Host comes in and with a smiling face About to mend by Art his late disgrace His Servants following brought a Charger fill'd With one poor little Crane cut up and grill'd Cover'd with Salt and Meal another brings Pluck't off and by themselves a Rabbets wings For those forfooth when by themselves are best And sweeter far than eaten with the rest Then roasted Blackbirds Doves their rumps cut off All pretty sorts of Meat and sweet enough But he with long harangues to every guest Explain'd their Natures how and why 't was drest Whom thus we punish'd each Man left his seat We fled the Banquet and refus'd to eat As if the Witch Canidia's poysnous breath Had blown upon 't and fill'd the Feast with Death The End of the Second Book of Satyrs EPISTLES BOOK I. The Heads of the first Epistle 1. He shews his desire for Philosophy 2. 'T is to be preferr'd before all 3. The People prefer Gold before Vertue 4. Why He cannot agree with the Crowd MY Lord Mecaenas whom I gladly choose The first and the last labour of my Muse Tho I have fought enough and well before And now dismist have leave to fight no more You strive to bring me on the Stage again My Age is not alike unlike my Brain Unlike my Mind and now I write in Pain The Fencer Vejan now grown weak with Age Lives quietly at home and leaves the Stage His Arms in great Alcides Temple plac't Lest after all his former Glorys past He worsted meanly beg his life at last And still methinks sounds thro my well purg'd Ear A little voice Fond Horace have a Care And whilst 't is well release thy aged Horse Lest when He runs but with unequal force And stretches hard to win He breaks his Wind Derided distanc't basely lags behind 1. And therefore all my trifling Songs adieu I now design to seek what 's good and true And that alone I scorn my wanton Muse And lay up Precepts such as I may use But if you ask me now what Sect I own I swear a blind obedience unto none But as the Tempest drives me so I Steer This way or that not setled any where Sometimes an Active Life my Fancy draws A strict observer of true Vertue 's Laws Then gently slide to Aristippus School And strive not to be rul'd by Things but Rule As Night to those their Mistress fails appears As Days to Labourers and as long the Years When Jealous Mothers curb to eager Heirs So dull and so ingrate my Time doth flow Which hinders what I hope and wish to do What done will profit Rich and Poor what long Forborn prove equal harm to Old and Young Well then I must content my self with this Yours cannot be as good as Lynceus Eyes What then
The sport of Chance and turns of Fate And Impious Arms that flow'd With yet unexpiated blood The great Triumvirate And their Leagues Fatal to the Roman State A dangerous Work you write and tread O're Flames by treacherous Ashes hid Yet this you write and give to Fame A lasting Monument of our Fathers Shame But hold thy Mourning Muse forbear To tread the crowded Theater Till Quiet spread o're State Affairs Shall lend Thee time for meaner Cares And then inspir'd with Tragick rage Return to the forsaken Stage And mourn the Faults and Follies of the Age Methinks the Trumpet 's threatning Sound Disturbs our rest with fierce Alarms And from the shining Arms A dreadful lightning spreads around It darts pale fear through every Eye The Horses start and trembling Riders flie Methinks the Warlike Captains shouts are heard With sordid Dust how Gloriously besmear'd In Blood I see the Souldiers roul I see the World obey All yield and own great Caesar's sway beside the stubborn Cato's haughty Soul Juno and Africk's Guardian Power That left their ruin'd Seats before Unable to revenge their fall Hath now on Rome return'd disgrace And offer'd up the Victor's race To great Jugurtha's Ghost and Hannibal What Land is free what Plain Not Fatt'ned by the Roman Slain What cannot witness by the Graves it shows Our Empire 's fall whose Noise is spread O're Persia and the distant Mede The Sport and Laughter of our smiling Foes What Lake unstain'd before Not knows our War and swells with Latian Gore What Sea 's not dy'd on what unhappy Flood On what remoter Coast Have not our Youth been lost Grown Impiously Prodigal of their Blood Enough my Muse Complaints forbear With me to shady Grots retire Thy Mourning cease divert thy Care And there with softer touches move thy Lyre ODE II. The free and generous only are the happy Men. DEar Friend whose generous thoughts despise The creeping Fears of Avarice How Silver looks how mean and base How much below the common Brass Unless a Moderate use refine A value give and make it shine Kind Proculeius just and good In Fame as Noble as in Blood Who with a Father's care did grant Supplies and eas'd his Brother's Want Long long shall live surviving Fame On lasting Wings shall bear his Name That Man a wider Empire gains That his own craving wish restrains Than he whose Sword and wide Command Joyn distant Spain and Libya's Sand Than if they did his Arms obey And either Carthage own his sway The Dropsies still by Drink increase In Rain are all our hopes of ease The Jaws are dry the Thrist remains Until the fatal Humors cease Until the cause of the Disease Shall leave the swoln and craving Veins Phraates fixt in Cyrus Throne Ador'd like Persia's rising Sun True sence that scorns the Peoples test Ne're ranks amongst the happy Blest From cheats of Words the Crowd she brings To real Estimate of things To him she gives to him alone The Laurel and the lasting Throne Whose Eyes can unconcern'd behold The darling heaps of shining Gold Whose mind doth never Wealth pursue Nor turn to take a second view ODE III. He adviseth his Friend Delius to be content and live merrily AN even mind in every State Amidst the Frowns and Smiles of Fate Dear mortal Delius always show Let not too much of cloudy Fear Nor too intemperate joys appear Or to contract or to extend thy Brow Whether thy dull unhappy Years Run slowly clog'd with Hopes and Fears And sit too heavy on thy Soul Or whether crown'd on Beds of Flowers Mirth softly drives thy easy hours And cheers thy Spirits with the choicest Bowl Where Poplars white the lofty Pine And Myrtles friendly Branches joyn And hospitable shades compose Where near a purling Spring doth glide In winding Streams and softly chide The interrupting Pebble as it flows There bring thy Wine thy Odors spread Let fading Roses crown thy Head Whilst Wealth and Age and Life will bear For you must leave your Groves your House And Farm where yellow Tiber flows And thy heap'd Wealth shall fill thy greedy Heir For whether sprung from Royal Blood Or from themeanest of the Crowd 'T is all a Case for nought can save The Hand of Fate doth strike at all And thou art surely doom'd to fall A Sacrifice to the impartial Grave Our Lots are cast Fate shakes the Urn And each mans Lot must take his turn some soon leap out and some more late But still 't is sure each Mortals Lot Will doom his Soul to Charon's Boat To bear th' eternal Banishment of Fate ODE IV. To Xanthias Phoceus who fell in Love with his Captive DEar Xanthias t is a faulty shame Blush not to own a Noble flame Rais'd by thy Captives Charms The fair Brisëis once could move Achilles stubborn Soul to Love And force the haughty Heroe to her Arms Tecmessa's Charms subdu'd her Lord And Conquering Ajax soon ador'd By fair Cassandra's Eyes When Hector fell and left his Troy To weary Greeks an easy Prey E'en midst his Triumph great Atrides dies See what a Beauteous Majesty And how commanding is her Eye Her look proclaims her State She Mourns she Mourns a Royal Race And Parents equal to her Face And grieves to see so strange a whirl of Fate Ne're think her Friend of Common Blood Nor sprung from the dishonest Crow'd A mind so bravely bold So chast as to resist the Arts That take the mean unguarded Hearts The force of pressing Youth and Charms of Gold Her Face her Neck her Breast and Arms I praise not taken with her Charms Suspitious thoughts remove Let almost forty feeble Years Secure thy mind from jealous fears And tell that Horace is too old for Love ODE V. To his Friend in Love with a young Girl THy Heifer Friend is hardly broak Her neck uneasy to the Yoke She cannot draw the Plough nor bear The weight of the obliging Steer In flowry Meads is her delight Those charm her Tast and please her sight Or else she flies the burning Beams To quench her Thirst in cooler Streams Or with the Calves thro Pastures plays And wantons all her easy days Forbear design no hasty Rape On such a green untimely Grape Soon ruddy Autumn will produce Plump Clusters ripe and fit to use She now that flies shall then pursue She now that 's courted doat on you For Age whirls on and every year It takes from Thee it adds to Her Soon Lalage shall soon proclaim Her love nor blush to own her Flame Lov'd more for she more kindly warms Than Phloe coy or Cloris Charms So pure her Breast so fair a White As in a clear and smiling Night In quiet Floods the Silver Moon Or Cretan Gyges never Shone Who plac't amongst the Maids defies A skilful Stranger 's praying Eys So smooth his doubtful looks appear So loose to Womanish his Hair ODE VI. To SEPTIMIUS He wishes for a quiet retreat in his Old Age. SEptimius that wouldst
cause the water did corrode the Tast And hurt the Stomach I resolv'd to fast And envy'd those that Sup't now Night appears And o're the Heaven spreads shades and twinkling Stars And then the Boys and Tars began to roar A Boat a Boat so ho you Son of a Whore Pox Thou wilt sink the Boat enough no more And whilst They take the Fare we were to pay And tye the Mule a whole hour slips away The Boat was full of Fleas and those molest And croaking Frogs all night disturb'd our rest The Mule-man and the Boat-man sate up late Both drunk and sang a Catch of merry Kate At last the weary Mule-man rolls to Bed With fiery Eyes swoln Guts and aking head The Boat-man too resolv'd to work no more But ty'd his Mule to graze along the shore Then fell asleep and there all night doth snore And now the Sun climb'd o're the Eastern Hill And show'd the Day but yet our Boat stood still Till one a surly fellow leapt from far And back and side He cudgel'd drowzy Tar This made him work and follow our Command And so at ten a Clock we came to Land Feronia was the place and there we Dine Thence three miles farther to another Inn My kind Mecaenas was to meet me there With good Cocceius sent on great Affair On Embassies 't was their delightful toyl To make new Friends and Enemies reconcile And here because my travelling did inflame I drest my Eyes mean while Mecaenas came Cocceius Capito and Fronto That Fronto delicate in mind and face And great with Antony as any was At little Fundi we refus'd to bait But laught at proud Aufidiu's Pomp and State A Scrivener lately now with Mace and Gown He huffs and proudly Lords it o're the Town To Formiae next There Capito meat affords Murena Lodging so we liv'd like Lords The next day was a happy joyful day For then at Sinuessa on our way Plotinus Virgil Varius too attends All worthy Men and my obliging Friends Oh how did we embrace What shouts we gave A Friend 's the dearest thing a Man can have Next night near Campan's Bridge our Stage was good And there we Lodg'd and as the Custom stood The Villagers presented Salt and Wood Next Stage was Capua there we made a stay We came betimes Mecaenas went to play Virgil and I to Bed my Eyes were sore His stomach sick and so we both forbore And next we reach't Cocceius Farm at night A pleasant Seat and stor'd with all delight But now assist my Muse and now relate How two base fellows quarrell'd and for what But first their Pedigree the generous brave And valiant Messius was a Noble Knave An Oscian born Sarmentus was a Slave Thus nobly born these Two and nobly bred Began the Brawl And first Sarmentus said Faith Messius Thou art like an untam'd Horse We laugh Well well says Messius take your Course And shakes his head Oh were thy horns not gone How thou wouldst push since now when thou hast none Thou threatnest so but that 's a scurvy place Those plaguy Scars thy brisly front disgrace And then breaks many a jest upon his face On every Pimple and on every Wart And bids him Mimick Polyphem No Art No Vizor thou dost need for thou art rough And Nature 's given Thee ugliness enough This Messius stomachs and replies again Well Sir when will you Consecrate the Chain You vow'd the Lares now you 're mighty proud A Scribe yet still your Ladies claim is good But why I wonder should'st Thou run away A poor thin-gutted Rogue sure he might stay That feasted on an half-penny Loaf a day This made our Supper pleasant thence we rod To Beneventum there our Inn was good But whilst our sedulous Host makes too much hast To roast our Meat and makes too strong a blast He had almost been burnt the Chimny fir'd And flames as hungry to the Roofs aspir'd Then hungry We and all our Servants came To save the Meat and House and quench the flame Next day the known Appulian Mountains rise Which hot Atabulus scorches as He flies To pass these Hills had prov'd too great a toyl But small Trevicum gave us rest a while We staid quite blinded in a smoaky house For all They had to burn was leaves and boughs Here I poor Noddy half the night or more Expected a sorsworn a jilting Whore At last dull sleep did blunt my keen desire His lazy hand spread o're and check't my fire But then some wanton Dreams too loose to tell Supply'd her place and did the feat as well Thence four and twenty Miles in four hours time To a small place whose name wo'nt stand in Rhyme But yet by Signs 't is very eas'ly known First then the Water 's scarce o're all the Town The cheapest Thing that Nature hath bestow'd Here 's dearly sold the Bread is very good This oft the wary Traveller approves And when He parts He fills his Bag with Loaves For none Canusium yields but gristy Bread This Town was built by Valiant Diomed The Nymphs averse 't is like the former poor Nor can it boast one Quart of Water more Here Varius left us but appear'd to be Concern'd to part and all as much as He Next night we reach 't to Rubi there we lay All very weary for the tedious way Was dirty and besides it rain'd all day Next Morn the Sky was fair the Weather good As far as Bari's Town but worse the Road Here we had sport enough and cause to smile For some that would our easie Faith beguile Would needs perswade that in their Sacred Quire Sweet Incence burns without the help of fire Ay let the Jews believe it if they please Not I I know the Gods must live at ease Nor when strong Nature doth some wonders show Can I believe They meddle here below Hence to Brundusium there I left my Friends And so my Story and my Journey Ends. SATYR VI. To MECAENAS 1. He commends him for looking on the Excellencies not the Families of Men. 2. Against Pride 3. His acquaintance with Mecaenas 4. How his Father bred him 5. That he is very well contented with his small Estate 1. BEcause thy Veins are fill'd with Royal Blood Thy Birth is Noble Family as good As all Hetruria boasts you are not proud Because thy Ancestors did Armies guide Kings by thy Fathers and thy Mothers side Thou dost not slight a Man of mean Degree As most Men use to do for instance Me Whose Father was a Slave and lately Free For you believe and you are right in This No matter whence He comes but what He is No matter if his Race be low his blood Be mean if but his Mind be great and good Before King Tully's time by Birth a Slave A thousand Men of mean descent were brave And fill'd the Honors that the People gave But Noble Laevin though Valerias Son By whose wise Conduct this great State begun When Tarquin They the
lofty and the Proud Expell'd was never valu'd by the Crowd The Crowd those Common Slaves to empty Fame That more than the Deserts regard the Name Dazled with Family and gawdy shows Then what should We what We the Wise propose We that are thought a different Kind from Those But at Elections grant the Crowd refuse Ignoble Decius and Levinus chuse And grant the surly Censor Appius scorn And shove me off because but meanly born Or else deserv'dly ' cause I would be brave And seek a finer skin than Nature gave Yet Glory's shining Chariot swiftly draws With equal Whirl the Noble and the Base 2. What profit was it Tully to resume Thy once lost Honors spread thy gawdy Plume And be a Tribune Thence more hate began More Envy rose than when a Private Man For when a Fool shall make a mighty stir Swagger and huff in Golden Chain and Fur All Eyes streight turn to the unusual State And studiously enquire what Fellow 's that What Family As one that shows a face Pox't Meager Pale and such as Barrus has Yet would be handsome thought Where e're He goes The Ladies cry look how the fellow shows And streight examine his Leg his Calf and Nose Thus when one thrusts himself upon the State And cries Come I 'll sustain the Nation 's weight The Empire and Religion be my Care I 'll manage all This makes the People stare This makes them ask what is He whence came He What was his Mother Of what Family Or is He base his Sire of mean Degree And what shall base-born you Sir rule the Law Lord it o're Citizens and hang and draw My Collegue Novius Sir is mean to me He 's what my Father was a Slave made Free What then doth that enoble all thy blood Make Thee Messala Paulus or as good Yet did two hundred Drays and all the Crowd Of two great Funerals meet He bawls so loud That He would drown the Horns and Trumpets Noise This pleases we are taken with his Voice 3. But to my self the Son of a Free'd-Man Whom Envious Eyes and Envious Tongues pursue Because My Lord I am belov'd by you But once because I had a good Command And as a Tribune led a Roman Band The cause unlike for those that may pretend To envy me for Honours Chance can send Yet may not be displeas'd that you 're my friend Since neither Fancy nor the Pop'lar Voice But prudent Care and Worth doth guide your choice And Sir this happiness I dare not own Was Chance for 't was not Chance that made me Known For Virgil did commend me to your Grace And Varius often told you what I was When sent for Sir in few and broken words In such as Infant Modesty affords I did not tell you my Descent was great I did not say I had a vast Estate But what I was and your Reply was short As 't is your Custom so I left the Court And to my fields retir'd at nine months end You sent for me and bad me be your Friend And this I think is great this makes me proud That I pleas'd you who know what 's bad from good By Vertue not by Nobleness of Blood 4. If only little stains do spot my Soul As perfect Beauties often have a Mole Tho I 'me Secure and free from all the foul If none on me can truly fix disgrace If I am neither Covetous nor Base If innocent my life if to commend My self I live belov'd by every Friend I thank my Father for 't for He being poor His Farm but small the usual ways forbore He did not send me to Sir Fabius School To teach me Arts and make me great by rule Such as our Great-mens Sons and Nobles seek With Book in hand and Satchel round their Neck And meanly pay their Master by the Week But first He boldly brought me up to Town To see those ways and make those Arts my own Which every Knight and Noble taught his Son So well attended and so richly drest I walkt thro Rome that those that view'd me guest I was a Man of Wealth a Knight at least Himself my carefull'st Guardian watcht me still In short He so supprest the growth of ill That Vertue 's hight not only kept me pure From vitious Deeds but ill repute secure Nor did He fear the Censuring World should blame His high designs or I be damn'd with shame If after all his Cost I should be made A Common Cryer or a meaner Trade Or else as He himself have poorly liv'd A mean Excise-man nor should I have griev'd I owe more thanks and more respect for this Nor shall I e're whatever Fops advise Repent of such a Father if I 'me wise Therefore as Others when the haughty scorn 'T was not our fault we were not nobly born I do no say nor mind those meaner cares My words and thoughts are different far from theirs 5. For should kind Nature bid my Soul retire Go back to Birth and chuse a Noble Sire As great as Thought could frame or Pride desire Content with those I have let others choose I would the Noble and the Great refuse And this is foolish this a wild design I' th' Crowd's Opinion Wise perhaps in thine Because I love my ease with prudent care And shun a weight who am not us'd to bear For streight my small Estate I must enlarge Salute more Men and live at greater charge Companions get lest I in Field or Town The noble I be seen to walk alone More Grooms and Horses keep a Coach beside And all the costly Vanities of Pride Now on my bob-tail'd Mule all gall'd and sore My Wallet galls behind my Spurs before I ride when e're I will I ride at ease As far as soft Terentum if I please None as of Tully's baseness shall of mine complain On whom when Praetor as a noble Train In the Tiburtine way five Boys did wait And bore a stool and flask of Wine in State I live Sir Noble I can justly boast Better than you and happier far than most I walk alone where e're my fancies lead And busie ask the price of Herbs and Bread Thro cheating Rome about the close of day I freely walk I go to Church and pray Then home where I shall find a sparing Treat And three small pretty Boys bring up the Meat Just by a White-stone-Table stands to bear Two Pots one Cup and equal to my fare A Cruise and Platter all poor Earthen Ware And then I go to bed and take my rest No guilty Conscience frets no Cares molest No sad remembrance of my former Crimes No Suits to bid me be at Court betimes Where Marsya's Statue stands and fears to brook The fury of the younger Novius look I sleep till Ten then walk or read a while Or write for pleasure ' noint my self with Oyl Not such as Natta pours the rich the base Who robs the dying Lamps to grease his face But when that heat
to serve a friend I 'le go And thus when no release appears Like an o'reladen Ass I hung my Ears Then He Sir If I don't mistake my Parts Not Varius Wit nor Viscus great Deserts Can claim your friendship half so much as mine Which of the Wits can write so smooth a line Which more than I or which with greater ease 'T is almost natural in me to please Who can his limbs to softer motions bring Hermogenes might envy when I sing And then he stopt a while and I put in Have you a Mother Sir or any Kin That would be glad to see you I have none For thanks kind Stars they all are dead and gone Oh Happy They and I the last remain Come pray Sir quickly rid me of my pain For now the fatal hour the time is come The Midwife told me when she read my doom She turn'd the Sieve and said Nor Sword nor Cough Nor Poison Plague nor Charms shall take him off Nor the Catarrh nor Flux nor Pox destroy But an Eternal Tongue shall kill the Boy And therefore would He have his life be long When grown a Man avoid a talking Tongue By this 't was nine a Clock or somewhat past And we to Vesta's Temple came at last And there that day He had a Cause to hear And was to lose his Suit or else appear Come pray Sir as you love me stop a while Faith Sir I cannot stand nor have I skill In any Point and I 'me oblig'd to go Well then What must I leave my Cause or You Me by all means No hang me if I do And so march't on and I with one too strong What Man can strive look't blank and sneak't along How doth Mecaenas thence his Chat began Affect you now You are the subt'lest Man You make Hay whilst it shines but take my word To have another always near my Lord And next to You in favour would secure My Lord 's good Will and make your Fortune sure Fix me the Man and let them do their best I 'le lay my life on 't you shall rout the rest Sir you mistake that 's not our Course of Life We know no Jealousies no Brawls no Strife From all those ills our Patrons House is free None ' cause more Learn'd or Wealthy troubles Me We have our Stations all their own pursue 'T is strange scarce credible and yet 't is true This whets my wish I 'me eager for a place I shall not rest till I am near his Grace Pray stand my Friend I 'me sure of good success He may be wrought on if you please to press But Sir at first he is of hard access Well when Occasion serves I 'le play my part I 'le spare no cost and charge try every Art Hang on his Coach wait on him all I can Bribe Flatter Cringe but I 'me resolv'd to gain 'T is only Labour Sir can raise a Man As thus He talk't a Friend of mine came by Who knew the fellow's humour more than I. We stop't and talk't a while as How do'st do Whence came you Sir I pray and whither now Mean while I shrug'd a thousand signs I show'd I squeez'd his hand and did what e're I cou'd I nodded cough't and wink 't to let him see I stood in need of 's help to set me free He cruel Wag tho knowing my intent Pretended ignorance of all I mean't I rag'd at last A little while ago You had some business pray let 's have it now I mind it well but Sir another day My business calls me now a different way 'T is Holiday I visit yonder shrine And must not mix Prophane with things Divine I don't mind Holidays but Sir I do A little tender Conscienc'd Sir I vow One of the Crowd I go to Church and pray Your pardon Sir we 'll talk another day Did ever such unlucky Beams arise Ever so black a day unkind He flies And leaves me gasping for a little life Just at the mercy of the Butcher's knife When lo his Adversary cry'd Oh Oh! Sir Raschal have I caught you whither now Pray Sir bear witness gladly I consent He 's forc't to Court and I as freely went The People Crowd and Shout but mid'st the strife I scap't and so Apollo sav'd my Life SATYR X. The Heads of the Tenth Satyr 1. He maintains the censure he had given of Lucilius 2. Discourses of Poetry 3. Satyr is his proper Talent 4. He is content with the praise of the best Judges 1. WEll Sir I grant I said Lucilius Muse Is uncorrect his way of Writing loose And who admires him so what Friend of his So blindly doats as to deny me This And yet in the same Page I freely own His Wit as sharp as ever lash't the Town But This one sort of Excellence allow'd Doth not infer that all the rest is good For on the same Account I might admit Labenius Farce for Poems and for Wit 2. Well then 't is not enough to please the Crowd And make them laugh to prove the Poem good Yet this I grant a sort of Excellence He must be short nor must He clog his sense With useless words or make his Periods long They must be smooth and so glide o're the Tongue And sometimes He must use a graver stile And then jocose and He must laugh a while Now like an Orator a Poet now Their different Vertues and their Graces show Now like a Gentleman whose fine discourse Design'dly easie is and free from force Instructive Mirth and where a waggish sneer Doth nick the great Ones more then a severe This was the drift of all our Ancient Plays In this They may be follow'd and with Praise But these Hermogenes those blundring heads Scarce knows and t'other Ape-face never reads Poor thick-skull'd Sots that sing a Catch or two From Calvus and that 's all that they can do Ay but He 's excellent for many times He mixes Greek with Latine in his Rhimes Dull Sots to think that Poetry and Wit Which e'en the Rhodian poor Pitholeon writ Ay but the Speech thus mixt is neat and fine 'T is sweet like Latine mixt with Greekish Wine But you Sir that can't think this Censure true But doâ—â— on Lucill I appeal to you Only in Verse or when you treat of Laws Or plead suppose Petillus desp'rate Cause Whilst Pode and Corvin eagerly accuse Would you this mix't this Mungrel Language use As 't were forget your own and Greek confound With Latine like the Apulians double sound When I a Latin once design'd to write Greek Verses Romulus appear'd at night 'T was after Twelve the time when dreams are true And said Why Horace what do'st mean to do 'T is full as mad the Greeks vast heaps t' encrease As 't is to carry Water to the Seas Whilst swelling Alpin in his lofty way Murders poor Memnon in his Barbarous Play Or awkerdly describes the head of Rhine This pleasant way of writing Satyr's mine 'T is not for
boyl'd with stew'd Flesh mix't with Fish the indigested load Is turn'd to Gall or Flegm and spoyls the Blood Observe how sickly and how pale the Guests How discompos'd they rise from sumptuous Feasts Besides the Body by the wild excess Enfeebled doth the nobler Mind oppress It clogs it and it makes its motions dull And fixes here the breath of Heaven the Soul The others go to Bed just close their Eyes Such little slumber Nature's wants supplies Then vig'rous to their proper business rise Yet Those can have their sparing Meals increast On Holidays or when they treat a Guest Or would indulge and when they please to Feast Besides old Age will come and that must crave A softer treatment far than Youth should have But Thou when sickness comes or feeble Age In vain do'st hope fond Youth to calm their rage By softer usage since thou dost enjoy The softest whilst a young and vig'rous Boy The Ancients did commend their stinking Bores Yet not but that their smell was good as Ours But ' cause they thought it better far to stay That was the thriftier and the nobler way And keep it till their tardy Guest was come Than eat it sweet and by themselves at home These these were Heroes these were generous Men And Oh that Nature had produc'd me then 4. Dost Thou regard thy Fame which charms our Ears With softer Musick than the sweetest Airs Take heed Luxurious Living ruins that And wasts thy Name as much as thy Estate It makes thy Neighbours angry Friends distrust And Thee thy self unto thy self unjust When Thou shalt wish for Death of all bereft And not enough to buy a Halter 's left 'T is true to some this is a just reproof This may be said to Tarsius well enough But not to Me I am secure from fate For my Revenue's large my Wealth is great Enough to keep three Kings a vast Estate Then is there no way else to spend thy Store Why since thou' rt Rich is any good Man Poor Why are not ruin'd Fanes rebuilt And why Doth not thy Wealth thy Neighbours wants supply And hath thy Country this superfluous Coin What measure hath it from this heap of Thine Kind fortune still forsooth shall smile on Thee O future sport unto thine Enemy And which is better able to endure Uncertain Chance And which lives most secure He that doth never Fortune's smiles distrust But Pampers up himself and feeds his Lust Or He that lives on little now and spares And wisely when 't is Peace provides for Wars But by one instance to confirm this Truth I knew Ofellus when I was a youth Then He was Rich yet ' midst his greatest Store He liv'd as now since Rapine made him Poor Now you may see him with his Wife and Son Till that Estate for hire which was his own He Ploughs he Sweats and stoutly digs for Bread Contented still and as he wrought He said On working Days I never us'd to eat But Cale and Bacon that was all my Meat But when an old and honest Friend of mine Or else my welcome Neighbours came to dine When it was rainy or my work was done We feasted not on costly Fish from Town But took what I could easily provide From my own Field a Pullet or a Kid And then for second course some Grapes were prest Or Nuts or Figs and that was all my Feast And after this we drank a Health or two As far as harmless sober mirth would go And then thank't Ceres for our present cheer And beg'd a plenteous Crop the following year And now let Fortune frown I scorn her force How can she make our way of living worse Have we not had enough since we grew poor Have we liv'd worse My Sons then heretofore Before a Stranger came and seiz'd my store For Nature doth not Me or Him Create The proper Lord of such and such Estate He forc't us out and doth possess my Plain Another cheat shall force him out again Or quircks in Law or when those fears are past His long-liv'd Heir shall force him out at last That which was once Ofellus Farm is gone Now call'd Umbrena's but 't is no Mans own None hath the Property it comes and goes As merry Chance or stubborn Fates dispose As God thinks fit and his firm Nods Decree Now to be us'd by Others now by Me Then live Resolv'd my Sons refuse to yield And when Fates press make Constancy your shield SATYR III. The Heads of the Third Satyr 1. The Stoicks chide him for his Laziness 2. According to the Stoicks Opinion all are mad 3. The Covetous are mad 4. The Ambitious 5. The Spend-thrifts 6. Lovers 7. The Superstitious 8. Concerning his own humor 1. YOU write so seldom scarce four sheets a year A lazy Writer but a Judge severe Still mending and revising every Line Still vex't that after all thy Sleep and Wine Yet nothing comes that doth appear to be Worth publick view What will become of Thee You here at Winters first approach did come And left the Mirth and drunken Feasts of Rome Then sober now write something as you vow'd Write something that may make thy promise good Begin nought comes thou dost in vain accuse Thy Paper Pen and Ink and angry Muse And yet you seem'd to promise something great If e're you came to your warm Country Seat Why comes Menander Plato Sophocles And why such Learned Company as These If Thou design'st to spend thy time in Ease What wilt Thou write no more to live exempt From Envy Blockhead Thou shalt meet Contempt The Siren sloth thou must resolve to shun Or lose that Fame thy better life has won Thanks Damasippus thou art grave and wise And let the Gods bestow 't is a small price A Barbar on thee for thy good advice But how came you to know my mind so well Why once I Traded till my Stock was gone And now I mind as here I live in Town Others concerns since I have lost my own For heretofore I drove a mighty Trade In Ancient Pieces knew what Piece was made By such an Artist and could tell what part Was rudely drawn and what agree'd with Art Then sold them dear I had the only skill To purchase Lands and with Advantage still And hence among the Crowd my Name was known The Mercury the Trader of the Town All this I know and wonder now to view The Change Why Sir a fancy strangely New Hath cur'd the Old Thus from another part As Head or Side pain falls into the Heart 2. Thus this Lethargick sometimes leaves his Bed In frantick fitt and breaks the Doctor 's Head Well Sir suppose You ben't as mad as He And beat me too be what you please to be Good Sir do not deceive your self for You And All if what Stertinius says be true Are mad He taught me This when first He cheer'd My drooping Mind and bad me wear this Beard For when by Trading I was quite
drunk and Garlands round his head Chanc't once to hear the sober Stoick read Asham'd he took his Garlands off began Another Course and grew a sober Man Offer an Apple to a peevish Boy He will refuse it here my pretty Joy Come prithee take it No Sir I 'le have none Yet if unoffer'd he will beg for One. Like him 's the Lover who hath ask't in vain Doubting if e're he should return again Altho deny'd when he would gladly wait Unask't and linger at the hated Gate Now she invites and Swears she will be kind What shall I go or rather cure my Mind She shuts me out then asks me to return What shall I go No though she begs I 'le scorn But lo his wiser Slave did thus reprove Sir Reason must be never us'd in Love Its Laws unequal and its Rulâ—s unfit For Love's a thing by Nature opposite To Common Reason Common Sence and Wit All that 's in Love's unsteddy empty vain There 's War and Peace and War and Peace again Now He that strives to settle such as These Meer things of Chance and faithless as the Seas He were as good design to be a Foâ—l By Art and Wisdom and be mad by Rule And ' cause thy Nut a sign that thou shalt prove A happy Man and Conqueror in thy Love Prest thro thy fingers strikes the Roof above You leap for joy unable to contain Is that the Action of a sober Man And when the old and so tho wiser grown You prattle with her in a Childish Tone Art thou not mad as He that loves his Toys And plays at Push-pin with the little Boys To this add all the rage of wild desire The Murders that attend this frantick fire Observe poor Nerus lately struck his Miss Then kill'd himself what dost thou think of This Was this Man Frantick or will you allow That He was sober in his Wits like you Yet freely grant him guilty of a Sin To the same thing adapting words akin 7. A. Libertine and old ran every day To all the Temples in the Town to pray Fasting he went and he was neatly drest His hands were clean and he had one request Grant ye kind Gods grant I may always live It is an easie thing for Iou to give Now he that sold him might have safely sworn He 's sound both Wind and Limb as e're was born But cheated if He swore him sound in Soul And This Man too the Stoicks count a Fool. The Mother whose dear Son had lain opprest With violent Quartan half a year at least Gets up betimes and prays Thou mighty Jove That dost Diseases bring and dost remove If thou wilt stop the Fits restore my Joy And spare the Body of my lovely Boy At thy next Solemn Fast kind mighty God I vow and I will make my promise good I 'le set him naked in cold Tiber's Flood And now let Chance or Physick's strength release Or Doctor 's care suppress the strong Disease The Frantic Mother will perform her vow And her weak Son into cold Tiber throw And this brings a Relapse and kills the Lad And hath not Superstition made her mad All this Stertinius taught me as a Friend That Eighth Wise-man and I my self defend By his learn'd Rules none vexes me in vain Who calls me mad I call him mad again And He shall learn what He doth seldom mind To see what a Fools Coat he wears behind 8. Well Stoick may you sell at dearer rate Your Merchandize and get your lost Estate So You for there are many sorts explain What kind of madness 't is that heats my Brain For sure methinks I am a sober Man Do'st think Agave when she grasp't the head Of her own Son thought she her self was mad Well then I 'me mad 't is true but fain would know Oblige me Stoick once and freely show What kind of Madness I 'me addicted to Then learn tho you are dwarfish thin and small You raise your self to be accounted tall Yet laugh when Turbo in his Arms appears Look how he struts and what a Port he bears Tho He hath far a greater bulk than Thee And therefore art thou not as vain as He What e're Mecaenas does and is it true That He is Rivall'd by Pedantick you When the old Frog was gone by chance abroad An Ox came by and on her young ones trod One scap't and told her that a mighty Beast Had trod upon her young and kill'd the rest How big said she As big as I am now And swells Yes yes as big again as You What bigger still And then she swells again Yes bigger bigger and you strive in vain You 'l never be as big altho you swell Untill you burst This Image fits thee well And thus to prove thee Frantic all conspire Now add thy Poems that is Oyl to Fire Those prove thee mad if nothing else were shown If any Poet 's sober thou art One. Thy malice I conceal but why do'st wear A finer Suit than thy Estate will bear Hold Damasippus I forbear to shew Thy burning Lust The greater Mad-man You Spare me at last the Lesser of the Two SATYR IV. The Argument of the Fourth Satyr He makes Catius tell him the several Precepts that are to be observ'd in making a Feast by this means showing these that pride themselves in this Art to be very ridiculous WHence Catius pray and whither Sir I vow I wish I had but I han't leisure now To tell my rules the best that e're were known Better than what Pythagoras has shown Or Plato taught but Sir I must be gone I must confess 't was rude Impertinence To interrupt a busy Man of Sense At such a time but pardon the offence For Sir what ever 't is you have forgot You 'l mind again and soon recall the thought Whether 't was fixt on Nature or on Art For You are deeply skill'd in either part I was considering how I should retain What I have learn'd it asks a subtle brain A Man of deep contrivance sense and thought So fine the Precepts and so finely wrought His name a Stranger or a Roman tell I 'le sing the Precepts but the Man conceal Choose Long Eggs still for those are hard and sound Cock Eggs more white and sweeter than the round The Cale that grows on Hills or barren Fields Is better far than what the Garden yields Moist ground e'en Odcomb Plants will quickly spoyl They tastless grow and watrish as the soil Suppose a Friend an unexpected Guest Comes late and You have nothing ready drest Drown Hens in Wine I learn't this Art at Court 'T will make the flesh eat wonderfully short The Meadow Mushrooms are the safer food Poys'nous the rest at least not half so good I 'le give him health that when his Meals are done Eats juicy Mulberrys pluckt before the Sun Doth rise too high and scorch with heat of Noon Aufidius thus says Story us'd to take His Mornings draught of
How great an Interest Sir I have in You For He still asks and begs me as a Friend He importunes me that I would Commend And bring him to your Service He is fit For Nero's Train and Love who does admit None but good Men and Men of Sense and Wit He thinks me Intimate my Interest good And more than I my self e're understood I long deny'd a thousand tricks I us'd And urg'd a thousand things to be excus'd But fearing I should seem too shy to own My Power with you kind to my self alone And scandals of a worser fault prevent I 'me turn'd my Lord a modest Impudent I boldly ask now if you dare Commend My boldness in the Service of my Friend Accept Septimius let him fill your Train I promise him a stout and honest Man EPISTLE X. To his Friend Fuscus Aristius 1. Prefers the Country before the City 2. The Covetous must be Slaves ALL Health I lover of the Country send To Fuscus the gay City's greatest Friend Brothers in all things else what one approves Or flies the other likewise hates or loves We Nod together like old acquainted Doves And now we disagree in this alone Our humors differ here you love the Town And I the pleasant Plains and purling Flood The Groves and mossy Banks and shady Wood. In short I Live I Reign since I 'me retir'd From that which you as much as Heaven admir'd Like one at last from the Priests service fled Loathing the hony'd Cakes I long for Bread Do You a Life to Natures Rules design And seek some fit Foundation to begin Some Basis where this happy Frame to raise The quiet Countrey is the fittest place Where is the Winter 's Cold more mild than here And when the Sun ascends and burns the year Where does a more delightful Wind asswage The furious Dog-stars or the Lions rage Or where do envious Cares break fewer dreams Do Flowers shine less or smell less sweet than Gems Are Streams more pure that Leaden Pipes convey Than those fair Springs that with their wanton play And gentle murmurs eat their easie Way E'en midst our Palaces we plant a Grove And Gardens dress our Care shows what we love That House is most esteem'd He wisely builds That hath a Prospect to the open fields Strive to expel strong Nature 't is in vain With doubled force she will return again And conquering rise above the proud disdain Not those that drive a Trade in Tyrian dyes Yet know not Counterfeits nor how to prize More vexing and more certain Cheats pursue Than Those that can't distinguish false from True Those whom the smiles of Fate too much delight Their sudden Frowns more shake and more affright What you admire You will be loath to lose Greatness and Fortune's guilded snares refuse An humble Roof plain Bed and humble Board More clear and more untainted sweets afford Than all the Tumult of vain greatness brings To Kings or the swoln Favourites of Kings 2. Both fed together till with injur'ous force The stoutest Deer expell'd the weaker Horse He beaten flyes to Man to right his Cause Begs help and takes the Bridle in his Jaws Yet tho He Conquer'd tho He rul'd the Plain He bore the Rider still and felt the Rein. Thus the mean Wretch that fearing to be poor Doth sell his Liberty for meaner Ore Must bear a Lord He must be still a Slave That cannot use the little Nature gave Him whom his Wealth doth not exactly fit Whose stores too closely or too loosely sit Like Shoes ill made and faulty if too great They overturn and pinch him if too strait Content Aristus with thy present store Thou wilt live wisely and not wish for more And let me prithee feel thy sharp reproof If I shall strive for more than just enough Money must rule or must obey the Mind More fit for Service than for Rule design'd Behind Vacuna's Fane these lines I drew Well pleas'd with every thing but wanting you EPISTLE XI To his Friend Bullatus who had been Travelling That happiness may be had any where BUllatus how did pretty Samos show Chios and stately Sardis let me know If They are such as Fame reports or no Or can you find more pretty things at home Are all these places mean compar'd to Rome Or else doth some Attalian City please Or Lebedus where tir'd with boist'rous Seas And tedious Roads You first sat down to ease Now Desert Lebedus contains but few And less than Gabii or Fidenoe knew Yet there my days I with Content could spend Forget and be forgot by every Friend There safe at shore see Winds and Storms engage And smile from Land at distant Neptune's rage But he that comes to Rome thro Rain and Mire Would not live always by a Kitchin Fire And he that 's cold commends not Baths and Heat As if they made a happy life compleat Nor ' cause Storms toss should'st thou straight seek thy ease And sell thy Ship beyond Aegaean Seas Fair Mytelene will prove as great a good To Men of sober Minds as Tyber's Flood To Swimmers when cold Winds severely blow As Freeze in Summer Silks in Frost and Snow Whilst Fortune smiles and gives Thee happy days Chios at Rome and absent Samos praise Take thankfully those hours the Gods shall give Use whilst you may and be not slow to live For if 't is Reason and not change of Air That brings soft Rest and frees our Souls from Care Those that beyond Sea go shall sadly find They change their Climate only not their Mind A busie idleness destroys our ease We Ride and Sail to seek for happiness Yet what we seek with every Tide and Wind We can e'en here or at Ulubra find If we can have but a contented Mind EPISTLE XII 1. Desires his Friend Iccius to be content 2. Commends Pompey Grosphus to him 3. Tells how the Affairs in Italy stand 1. IF You can use Agrippa's vast Estate Which now you manage 't is the height of Fate Not Jove himself could give a greater store Tho grown profuse my Friend complain no more He that hath things for use is never poor If Thou hast cleanly Food and Cloaths enough What more than this can kingly Wealth bestow If at full Tables stor'd with dainty meat You can contain and Herbs and Mallows eat Thus thou wilt live if prodigal of her store The Golden Streams of Fortune guild Thee o're ' Cause Mony cannot Natures stamp deface And all things you below true Vertue place Why should we wonder is it strange to find Democritus grown poorer whilst his mind Was gone abroad and left his Limbs behind Whilst You thro Clogs of gain can nobly climb And midst dull Avarice think on Things Sublime What bounds the raging Sea what rules the Year Whether by their own force the Planets err Or some Superior Guide what spreads the Night What hides the Moon What fills her face with Light What disagreeing Seeds of Things can
as three large Bears could Eat And sober He whilst thus he hardly far'd Would have forsooth the Spend-thrifts Bellies sear'd Yet the same Menius when his gains were more And on his Gut he wasted all his Store Turn'd all to Smoak and Ashes us'd to cry No wonder faith to see that Men feed high When not the World a fairer sight can show Than the large pickled Belly of a Sow I 'me just like him when poor Oh how I love The safe and little Store and how approve When Rich then those are blest and only those Whose stately House their hidden Treasure shows None live so well none take such soft repose EPISTLE XVI 1. To his Friend Quintus a Description of his little Farm 2. Advice concerning a happy life 1. ASk me not Quintus what my Farm doth yield Whether 't is Hay or Corn that crowns my Feild Elms cloath'd with Vines or Fruit or Olives rise I 'le tell you what it is and how it lies A ridge of Hills a shady Rale divides And takes the Suns kind Rays on both her sides The right hand opens to the rising day The left hand gently takes the setting Ray You like the Clime If every Hedge that grows Doth blush in Cornoils or doth mourn in Sloes If Beechen Groves and fruitful Oaks afford Meat for my Cattle Shades for me their Lord You 'd think Tarentum's pleasant Feilds remove To wait on me and spread a shady Grove A pleasant Spring almost a River flows Not Heber's Streams the Thracian Feilds inclose With waves more cool and clear The waters spread To purge the Stomach good and cleanse the Head These pleasant nay 't is true these sweet retreats Preserve my Health amid'st the Summers Heats 2. And you live well if what Fame says be true For all admire and Rome doth boast of you She calls you happy but my Friend I fear You more believe what others say you are Than what you know your self Esteem none happy but the Wise and Good Nor when you 're flatter'd by the heedless Crowd That you look well dissemble thy disease Sit down to feast and give it time to seize Until it shakes and thou canst eat no more 'T is foolish shame to hide a fest'ring Sore Suppose one speaks of Wars and noble Fights And with these words thy empty Ears delights Jove who for You and for the People cares Leaves still in doubt whose safety most prefers The People Yours or else the People's you Dost see his praise is only Caesar's due Yet when they call the Good canst Thou agree Canst Thou consent that That belongs to Thee For you and I both love the Crowd should say That we are good but what that gives to day To morrow if it please it takes away As when it Offices on Fools bestows They call them back and scorn the Man they chose Lay down t is ours They cry I lay it down Poor naked Wretch and griev'd depart and frown The same Crowd calls me Thief they pass a vote That I 'me unchast or cut my Fathers throat And with false Scandals bite me must I fear Must I look pale for this or shed a tear False honors please and false reports disgrace And trouble Whom The vitious and the base Who then is Good Why He that keeps the Laws And antient Rites whose Word secures a Cause Who reconciles his Neighbours free from Strife And seems to lead a fair and honest Life Yet all his Neighbours know him base within His outside 's fair his inside's black with Sin Suppose my Slave should say I neither fly Nor steal Well Thou hast thy reward say I Thou art not Scourg'd I never kill'd a Man Well Thou shalt not be hang'd or torn with pain But I am thristy honest good and wise Sabellus cannot grant it nay denys For crafty Foxes dread the secret Snare The Kite and Hawk altho the bait be fair Yet never stoop where they suspect a Gin The Good for Vertue 's sake abhor a Sin 'T is fear of Punishment restrains thy Will Give leave how eagerly would'st thou be ill Suppose you steal few Grains from stores of Wheat The Loss 't is true is less the Crime 's as great The Man that 's honest in the Peoples Eyes When e're He kills a costly Sacrifice A Pig or Bull and whilst his Vows are good Apollo Janus hear he prays aloud But murmurs softly to be heard afraid Good Good Laverna hear me grant me aid For such a Cheat let all believe me Good Let me seem just and honest to the Crowd And o're my Cheats and Forgeries spread a Cloud How are the Covetous than Slaves more free That basely stoop for every Pin they see I can't imagine He that still doth crave Must fear and He that fears must be a Slave For He hath lost his Arms and basely fled Left Vertues Camp and all her Laws betray'd That 's eager to be rich that strives for more Goes on and dyes beneath the weighty Store Forbear to kill the Captive thou canst sell His work will bring thee gain He 'll serve Thee well Whether He Tills thy Field or Feeds thy Sheep Or Sails and Winters in the raging Deep A Man that 's Good and Wise will boldly say Well Pentheus King of Thebes Why this delay Pray what must I expect What must I fear What undeserv'd must I be forc't to bear I 'le take away thy Goods My Flocks my Land You may 't is subject all to Your Command I 'le Chain and Rob Thee of thy Liberty Ah God when e're I please will set me free I think I know what these his words design I 'le dye of Things Death is the utmost Line EPISTLE VII Adviseth his Friend Scaeva to choose and how to behave himself in the Great-Mens acquaintance THo Scaeva Thou hast Wit enough to choose The Great-Mens favour and art skill'd to use Yet hear what thy unskillful Friend can say As if one Blind pretends to show the way Yet see a while if what is fairly shown Be good and such as you may make your own If you delight in Ease and quiet joys If ratling Coaches and the Tavern 's noise Disturbs Thee Scaeva then refuse the Charms Of Greatness live upon thy little Farms For Pleasures do not follow only Wealth Nor lives He ill that lives and dyes by stealth But if you love to aim at nobler Ends And would be able to assist your Friends Live well thy self and better thy Estate Now thou art dry go soak upon the Fat If Aristippus patiently could Dine On Herbs He would the Courts of Kings decline If He that censures me knew how to use The Courts of Kings He would his Herbs refuse Now which of these you think is best declare Or else my Junior you with patience hear Why Aristippus humor 's best for thus He bob'd the Cynick as the story goes I for my self to please the People you Break Jests my way 's the better of the Two
for He fears the fall He justly fears to meet deserv'd disgrace And that the Ring will hiss the baffled Ass But every one can Rhyme He 's fit for that Why not I 'me sure he hath a good Estate And that may give him just pretence to write It makes a Poet as it dubs a Knight But you Sir know your self will wisely choose And still consult the Genius of your Muse And yet when e're you write let every line Pass thro your Fathers Mecca's Ears or mine Keep it long by you and improve it still For then you may correct what e're you will But nought can be recall'd when once 't is gone It grows the Publick's 't is no more your own Fame says Inspired Orpheus first began To sing Gods Laws and make them known to Man Their fierceness softned show'd them wholesom food And frighted all from lavvless Lust and Blood And therefore Fame hath told his charming Lute Could tame a Lion and correct a Brute Amphion too as Story goes could call Obedient Stones to make the Theban Wall He led them as he pleas'd the Rocks obey'd And danc't in order to the Tunes he play'd T vvas then the vvork of Verse to make Men vvise To lead to Vertue and to fright from Vice To make the Savage Pious Kind and Just To curb wild Rage and bind unlavvful Lust To build Societys and force confine This vvas the noble this the first Design This vvas their Aim for this they tun'd their Lute And hence the Poets got their first repute Next Homer and Tyrte did boldly dare To whet brave Minds and lead the stout to War In verse their Oracles the Gods did give In verse we were instructed how to live Verse recommends Us to the Ears of Kings And easeth Minds when clog'd with serious things And therefore Sir Verse may deserve your care Which Gods inspire and Kings delight to hear Now some dispute to which the greatest part A Poem owes to Nature or to Art But faith to speak my thoughts I hardly know What witless Art or Artless Wit can do Each by it self is vain I 'me sure but joyn'd Their force is strong each proves the others friend The Man that is resolv'd the Prize to gain Doth often run and take a world of pain Bear Heat and Cold his growing strength improve Nor tast the Joys of Wine nor Sweets of Love The good Musician too that 's fam'd for Song Hath con'd his Tune and fear'd his Master long But amongst Poets 't is enough to say Faith I can write an admirable Play Pox take the hindmost I am foremost still And tho 't is great conceal his want of skill As Tradesmen call in Folks to buy their Ware Good Penny-worths the best in all the Fair So wealthy Poets when they read their Plays Get Flatterers in for they are paid for Praise And faith a Man that has a good Estate That can oblige a Friend and nobly Treat Be Surety for the Poor his Cause defend Shall never know a Flatterer from a Friend If you have been or promis'd to be kind To any one whilst joy perverts his Mind Ask not his Judgment for He 'l streight consent And cry t is good 't is rare 't is Excellent Grow pale and weep and stamp at every line Oh Lord 't is more than Man 't is all Divine As Hired Mourners at the Grave will howl Much more than those that grieve with all their Soul Thus Friends appear less mov'd than Counterfeits And Flatterers out-do and show their Cheats Kings thus says Story that of old design'd To raise a Favourite to a Bosome Friend Did ply him hard with wine unmaskt his thoughts And saw him Naked and with all his Faults So when you write take heed what Friend you have And fear the Smiles of a designing Knave Let good Quintilius all your lines revise And he will freely say mend this and this Sir I have often try'd and try'd again I 'me sure I can't do better 't is in vain Then blot out every word or try once more And file these ill turn'd Verses o're and o're But if you seem in love with your own Thought More eager to defend than mend your Fault He says no more but lets the Fop go on And Rival-sree admire his lovely own An honest Judg will blame each idle line And tell you you must make the Cloudy shine Show you what Words are harsh blot out the rough And cut the useless gawdy painting off Look thro your Faults with an impartial Eye And tell you what you must correct and why Critique indeed nor say shall I displease My honest Friend for such small Toys as these These Toys will once to serious mischiefs fall When He is laught at when He 's jeer'd by all For more than Mad or Poxt Men hate the Dull And swiftly fly the senseless rhyming Fool And fear to touch him Men of Sense retire The Boys abuse and only Fools admire Suppose he fir'd with his Poetick flame Just as a Fowler eager on his Game Doth fall into a Pit and bawls aloud And calls for pitty to the laughing Crowd He may bawl on for all will stand and flout And not one lend an hand to help him out But yet if any should what was 't design Or else meer Chance pray Sir that threw him in I 'le tell my Reasons and in short relate A poor Sicilian Poet's wretched Fate Empedocles must needs be thought a God And therefore in a melancholly Mood Leapt into Aetna's Flames let Poets have The Priviledg to hang and None to save For 't is no greater cruelty to kill Than 't is to save a Man against his Will Nor was it Chance the heedless Fool betray'd Nor the strange efforts of a crazy head For draw him out restore his life again He would not be content to be a Man He would be eager to be thought divine And gladly burn in Hopes to gain a Shrine Now 't is not known for what notorious Crime These brainless Fellows are condemn'd to Rhyme Whether they piss'd upon their Fathers Grave Or rob'd a Shrine 't is certain that they rave And like wild Bears if once they break their Den And can get loose worry all sorts of Men Their killing Rhymes they barbarously obtrude And make all fly the Learn'd as well as Rude But then to those they seize They still reherse And murder the poor Wretches with their Verse They Rhyme and Kill a cursed murd'ring Brood Like Leeches sucking still till full of Blood FINIS A CATALOGUE OF BOOKS Printed for Jacob Tonson at the Judges-Head in Chancery-Lane 1684. PLutarch 's first Volume newly Translated from the Greek Plutarch Written by Mr. Dryden Theseus Translated by Mr. Duke Romulus Mr. Smallwood Lycurgus Mr. Chetwood Numa Pompilius Mr. Ricaut Solon Mr. Creech Poplicola Mr. Dodswell Themistocles Dr. Brown Furius Camillus Mr. Pain Pericles Dr. Littleton Fabius Maximus Mr. Carryl Plutarch's second Volume newly Translated from the Greek Alcibiades Coriolanus Translated by Dr. Bloomer Paulus Emilius Mr. Arrowsmith Timoleon Dr. Bloomer Pelopidas Mr. Creech Marcellus Dr. Charlton Aristides Mr. Cooper Marcus Cato Mr. Lydcot Philopemen Dr. Short Titus Flaminius Mr. Whitaker Plutarch 's Third Volume newly Translated from the Greek Pyrrhus Translated by Dr. Cru Caius Marius Mr. Stapleton Lysander Mr. Leman Sylla Mr. Davis Cimon Mr. Morgan Lucullus Mr. Thornburgh Nicias Mr. Rimer Crassus Mr. Amhurst Eumenes Sertorius Dr. Brown The Fourth and Fifth Volumes of Plutarch Translated by several eminent Hands are now in the Press and will with all possible speed be Published Remarks upon a Tract Intituled a Treatise of Humane Reason and upon Mr. Warren 's late defence of it by Sir George Blundell A Critical History of the Old Testament in three Books The first treating at large concerning the several Authors of the Bible The second containing the History of the chief Translations of the Bible made either by Jews or Christians The third laying down Rules whereby a more Exact Translation may be made of the Scripture than hitherto has been Written Originally by Father Simon of the Oratory With a suppliment being a defence of the Critical History in answer to Mr. Spanhem 's Treatise against it both Translated into English by H. D. Poems upon several occasions with a Voyage to the Island of Love by Mrs. A. Behn Ovids Epistles Englished by the Earl of Mulgrave Sir Car. Scrope Mr. Dryden and several other Eminent hands Divine Contemplations upon the Life of our Saviour Written by the Bishop of Exceter A Chronicle of France from the beginning of that Kingdom Written by Monsieur Mezeray Chronologer to the present French King The first part of the Institutes of the Laws of England or a Commentary upon Littleton By Sir Edward Coke K t. Theninth Edition carefully corrected with an Alphabetical Table To this Edition is added two Learned Tracts of the same Author the first his Reading upon the 27 of Edward the first Entituled The Statute of Levying Fines and the second of Bail and Mainprise The Lord Cokes Reports in French and English The Reports by the Lord Chief Justice Vaughn in Engl. Hettly's Reports Dalton's Justice of Peace Dalton's Sheriffs Shepard's Abridgment of the Law Brown's Entries in 2 Parts Miscellaneous Poems containing a New Translation of Virgil's Ecologues Ovid's Love Elegies Odes of Horace and other Authors with several Original Poems by the most Eminent hands The Works of Horace Translated into English by Mr. Creech of Oxford are now in the Press and near Printed Now in the Press The Decay of the Western Empire Translated out of French Will speedily be Published The History of the League Written in French by Monsieur Maimburgh Translated into English uppon his Majesties Command by Mr. Dryden * I read scripta in honoratum c. * Scriptor Cyclicus is not as usually thought Scriptor Circumforaneus but the same with what the Greeks call'd 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of whom see Langbain in his Notes on Longinus
He alone can claim that name that writes With Fancy High and bold and daring flights And sings as nobly as His Hero fights And therefore some do doubt though some allow If Comedy be Poetry or no Because it wants that Spirit Flame and Force And bate the numbers 't is but plain discourse Yet often there the careful Fathers rage They storm and swear and crack the trembling Stage A Rogue a Dog I 'le kick him out of Door When his young Stripling courts a Jilting Whore And slights a noble Match or stow'd with drink E'en whilst 't is day He Sails behind his Link And would not Pompon were his Father here Expect as harsh a check and as severe Well then 't is not enough to keep due time Observe just feet and put plain words in Rhyme For break the Numbers and the Verse affords But common angry talk and usual words Thus take what I or what Lucilius writes Tho now and then it Storms and sometimes bites Invert the Order and the Words transpose No sign as when you change When violent Wars Had burst their Brazen Gates and broke the Bars Of Poetry appears 't is naked Prose 4. But now enough another Time shall show If 't is a part of Poetry or no But now I will enquire how Men should hate This way of writing Satyr and for what Capri and Sulce those Terrors of the Jayl Both hoarse with pleading walk the Common-Hall Their green Bags stusst with Bills Indictments Breves A mighty Terror those to Knaves and Thieves But yet an honest Man that keeps his Oath Nor robs nor steals may safely scorn them both If Thou' rt a Thief as Coele and Byrrhus are I 'me not like Sulce or Capri why do'st fear And why dread me My Book 's not set to Sale Thumb'd by the Rabble upon every Stall The Rascal scum Hermogenes and All I seldom do rehearse and when I do I 'me forc't because my Friends will have it so But then in private to my Friends alone Not every where nor yet to every one Thousands i' th' publick Market-place recite And trouble all they meet with what they write Nay whilst they Bath They studiously rehearse The Eccho's raise the Voice and grace the Verse Thus act our Fops and without fear or wit Never considering if the Season's fit Or time convenient Well but what you write Doth hurt Mens fame that 's your perverse delight Why this to me Doth any Friend of mine Boldly affirm that this is my design He that himself shall blame his absent Friends Or hears them scandaliz'd and not defends Sports with their Fame and speaks what e're He can And only to be thought a Witty Man Tells Tales and brings his Friend in dis-esteem That Man 's a Knave besure beware of him Set Twelve to Supper one above the rest Takes all the talk and breaks a scurvy Jest On all except the Master of the Feast At last on him when frequent Cups begin T' unlock his Soul and show the spight within Yet him you count a Wag a merry Soul A pleasant innocent and harmless Droll But if I smile perchance if I presume To laugh because Rufillus doth perfume That Female Man or nasty Gorgon note For studied filthiness and smell of Goat My smiles are Satyrs and what e're I write In me 't is all detraction and 't is spight In common Talk as we have often done If we discourse how Petil stole the Crown And you as you are wont his Cause defend He hath a kindness for me He 's my Friend My old Acquaintance He He is indeed And faith I 'me glad at heart that He is freed And yet I wonder how He ' scapt 't is right This this is base detraction this is spight This If I know my self ne're relisht me My Books from this I 'me sure my Mind is free But if some things appear jocosely writ This you must pardon this you must permit 5. For my good Father did instruct me so And by Examples taught me how to know What was unfit and what was fit to do For when He tutor'd and advis'd to thrift And live content with that which He had left Mark Byrrhus he would say and Alpi 's Son How poor They live now They are both undone Two fit examples by unhappy Fates To fright young Heirs from spending their Estates When He would fright me from a lawless Love And Whores He said Young Horace do not prove Like Sectan do not lead so loose a Life And seek stoln joys and with another's Wife Use what the Laws permit and be advis'd Trebonius got no credit when surpriz'd Philosophers perhaps may show the Cause And talk of Reason and of Nature's Laws Why some things should be hated some admir'd And why avoided some and some desir'd But 't is enough for me to form thy mind And leave it to the Ancients rules inclin'd And whilst Thou want'st a Tutor keep thy Name And manners spotless and preserve thy Fame For when a Man then thou must walk alone No prudent care to guide Thee but thy own Thus he advis'd What e're He 'd have me do He says Look such a one doth so and so And sets a Worthy Man before my Eyes And when he would forbid a Thing He crys Is not this bad when such and such a One Is scandaliz'd for 't over all the Town Unruly Patients when They chance to hear Their Neighbour's lately dead begin to fear Grow orderly and check their Appetite So others ill repute do often fright Young Men from following Vice and false delight Hence 't is that sound from greater faults I live But small and such as Friends may well forgive I grant I have yet even those grow less By my own Care or by my Friends advice For when I lye or when I walk alone I usually revolve what I have done This may be better'd sure and this commend And make me greater and a pleasant Friend Sure this is bad and this is not well done What shall I act like such and such a one All this I use to think on when alone At leasure times I write my foolish thoughts And this is one of Those my little faults Which if you won't forgive but prove severe A Band of Poets to my Aid I 'll rear For we can make a Band and like the Jews I 'le force you take that side you now refuse SATYR V. The Heads of the Fifth Satyr 1. A Description of his journey to Brundusium with all the various occurrences in the way FRom stately Rome I walkt a little way And reacht Aricia first and there I lay My Company as good as Man could seek The Lawyer Heliodore a Learned Greek Then Forum Apii that 's a paltry Town With Tars and Pedlars throng'd and those alone We made two days on 't hither tho most but one For to quick Travellers 't is a tedious road But if you walk but slow 't is pretty good Here '