the like and with a willing mind 4. But now since Passion 's rooted in our Souls As other faults that stick so close to Fools Why doth not Reason poise and mend our thoughts And see our rage proportion'd to the faults When Supper 's done a Slave removes the Dish And spills the Broth or else le ts fall the Fish Now should the Master stab the Slave for this He would be thought more mad then Labeo is But how more mad are we and more severe Our Friends but little and but seldom Erre And such small Faults good Natures ne're resent They sin as Men must do and may repent But yet for this we hate for this we shun As Bankrupts Risio the notorious Dun Who when the Calends come severely sues And if the Debtor doth not pay the Use He 's clapt in Jayl and hears a tedious Bill A killing Scroll Item and Item still My Friend got drunk perhaps hath foul'd my bed Or bruis'd a Cup by neat Evander made Or snacht away a Chicken from my Plate And must I love my Friend the less for that What should I do then if he prov'd unjust Refus'd to bayl me Thiev'd or broke his Trust Those that hold Vices equal seem distress't When leaving Sophistry they come toth ' Test This Fancy doth with Law and Custom fight And Interest too that spring of Just and Right When Man first crept from Mother Earth's cold Womb He was a miserable Thing and dumb Then they for Acorns fought and shady Cave With Nails then Clubs the Weapons Nature gave And next with Swords which sad convenience found And malice taught them they were fit to wound Till Words and Names for Things and Laws began And civiliz'd the bruitish Creature Man Then they built Towns and settled Right and Just And Laws to curb our Rapine and our Lust For long e're Helen's time a thousand dy'd Then thousands fought to get a beauteous Bride But unrecorded fell like Beasts they stray'd Each caught his willing Female and enjoy'd Till one more strong kill'd him and was preferr'd Just as the greatest Bull amongst the Herd Look o're the Word 's old Records there 's the Cause 'T was fear of wrong that made us make our Laws By Naked Nature ne're was understood What 's Just and Right as what is Bad and Good What fit and what unfit for Flesh and Bood Nor Reason shews to break a Garden Hedge Should be as great a Crime as Sacriledge Let Rules be fixt that may our Rage contain And punish faults with a Proportion'd pain And do not flea him do not run him through That only doth deserve a kick or two For I ne're fear that Thou wilt prove too kind To too much Pity vitiously inclin'd That can'st hold Vices Equal and believe To Rob's no greater Crime than 't is to Thieve And who would punish all with equal hand If Thou wer 't King and had'st the full Command If he that 's wise and skilful in his Trade Tho but a Cobler must be neatly made Be rich be fair be handsome and a King Why do'st Thou wish for 't since Thou hast the Thing But what Chrysippus said Thou dost not know No wise Man yet did ever make a shoe And yet the Cobler's a wise Man how so Why as Hermogenes tho He holds his Tongue Is skill'd in Musick and can set a Song And suffling Alfen though he lost his Awl And threw away his Last and shut his Stall And broak his Threads yet was a Cobler still Thus every Tradesman if he hath but skill Is wise and therefore only King but stay Unless you use your Club with wanton play The waggish Boys will pluck thy formal Beard Thou shalt be kickt derided scorn'd and jeer'd Till thou do'st burst when Rage or Envy Stings And snarl thou greatest King of mighty Kings In short whilst Thou a King shalt walk in State And only foolish Crispin on Thee wait To get a farthing Bath I nobly live The Faults I Fool commit my friends forgive And I as easily will pardon theirs And so I 'le live secure and free from Cares A happier Private Man Than Thou a King SATYR IV. The Heads of the Fourth Satyr 1. Lucilius was bitter but uncorrect 2. Few read Satyrs because they know they deserve the reproof 3. Whether Satyr be a Species of Poetry 4. A defence of his own Writings 5. The manner how his Father bred him to Vertue 1. CRatin and Eupolis that lash't the Age Those old Comedian Furies of the Stage If they were to describe a vile unjust And cheating Knave or scourge a Lawless Lust Or other Crimes regardless of his Fame They show'd the Man and boldly told his Name This is Lucilius's way He follows those His Wit the same but other numbers chose I grant he was a sharp and ready Wit But rude and uncorrect in all he writ This was his fault He hastily would rhyme As if 't were such a wondrous thing in him Two hundred tedious lines in one hours time Yet when with force his muddy fancy flow'd Some few pure Streams appear'd amongst the mud In writing much 't is true his Parts excell Too lazy for the task of writing well But grant that rare what then Crispinus says You talk of writing Sir You claim the Bays Come on Sir Critick You shall have your fill The wager be as little as you will Here 's Pen and Ink and Time and Place let 's try Which can write most and fastest You or I Thanks Heaven that made me slow and gave a Peâ— That writes but little and but now and then But you like Bellows till the Gold 's refin'd Are puffing still and all but empty wind 2. Fannius was happy whom the publick praise Preferr'd to Phoebus shrine and Crown'd with Bays But few read mine and few my Books delight And I scarce dare to publish what I write Few like this way for most know well enough That they deserve and fear my just reproof Take any at a venture midst the Crowd And you shall find him covetous or proud One marry'd Whores another Boys desires One Silver 's white and Alpius Brass admires Another runs from East to West to cheat Like Dust by Whirlwinds tost thro storms of Fate And all to keep or better his Estate All these hate Poets these do fear our Rhimes Look he 's stark mad they cry fly fly betimes He spares no Friend He will abuse the best So he may laugh himself and have his Jest And then what e're He writes flies o're the Town To Pimps to Hectors and to Gamesters shown To every one He meets He tells the Tale Old Senseless Fops Old Women Boys and All Now hear what may for t'other side be shown 3. First I 'me no Poet for to make me one 'T is not enough to fetter words in Rhyme And make a tedious and a jingling Chyme And chiefly since my numerous feet enclose Such plain familiar Talk and almost Prose No
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 '
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
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
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
Hony mixt with Sack This was ill done with Liquors only mild E're breakfast Empty Veins are safely fill'd What e're some fancy I have Cause to think Smooth Mead in Morning is the better drink When bound too much sweet Mallows quickly clear Thy Gutts from stoppage and thy Mind from fear Or Cockle Fish or Sorrel newly ripe With Coan white wine sawce will ease the gripe Better than the old Midwife Glister-pipe The Shell-fish with the growing Moons encrease Yet different sorts are found in different Seas All have not good the Lucrine Shells exceed Those various Purples that soft Baja breed Oysters low Crice some Misenian Coasts And Scollops large soft Tarent loudly boasts Let none pretend to have an Art in Feasts Till He 's exact and Critical in Tasts 'T is vain for him to buy the dearest Fish That after knows not how to cook the dish What must be stew'd what boyl'd will grace a Feast And what the Stomach of the glutted Guest Make him forget his Belly 's full restore Lost Appetite and tempt him on to more Bores fed on Acorns caught in Umbria's Wood Bend down his dishes with their weighty load That would avoid dull mean or tastless food For no wise Palates the Laurentans choose Vile meat and fat with plashy reeds and Ouze Goats bred on Vines not always dainty fare Wise Palates choose the Wings of breeding Hare What Fish of all the sorts what Birds are best And at what Age and how they should be drest Before the World saw me were hardly known All those are pure inventions of my own Some spend their time and hope to gain applause For minding nothing but new Cates and Sawce But Men of Art must still their Cares divide Not mind one thing and neglect all beside Nor whilst they 're curious in their Wine and Ale Ne're heed what Oyl they pour upon their Cale If full of Lees if thick your Massick Wine Set it abroad by Night 't will make it fine Take off those Smells that hurt the Nerves and wast The Spirits Hemp-seed spoyls its proper tast Those cheating Rogues that when the Wine decays With their Surrentine mix Falernian Lees This dasht Wine quickly cleanse with Pidgeous Eggs Those falling down precipitate the Dregs You have drunk briskly and your friend decays Then give him pickled Hearings those will raise And whet his Stomach for another glass For Lettice after Wine 's not half so good It swims on drink and makes the Stomach crude When He 's too full then Gammon's only fit Sawsage provokes him to another bit If these won't do of it He scorns them both He may be whetted with a dish of Broth To know both sorts of Broth 't is worth your while The Simple is compos'd of sweetest Oyl This Oyly Wine and Caviare only asks Such as grows mellow in Byzantian Casks To this shred Herbs with Safforn mixt and boyl And when 't is cool then add Venafrian Oyl Some Grapes are best in Pots all ways are try'd In smoak the Aban Grape is better dry'd This Grape with some sharp Sawce round Plates to strew With Salt and Pepper I 'me the first that knew And told it others as I tell it you 'T is a grand fault to buy the dearest fish And after crow'd them in too straight a dish The Guests won't like to see one take the Cup Who stole a Pidgeon as He brought it up With the same hand for that will stain the place Nor yet to see old dust stick round the Glass How little Beasoms cost how quickly bought Yet if not gotten 't is a grievous Fault Dost think it decent to neglect thy House Or sweep the marble Floor with dirty boughs Dost think 't is handsom for the Page to spread A dirty covering o're a Gawdy Bed Forgetful still that since these things are mean And such as All must have that would be clean T is worse to want these than such dainty meat Which only Luxury or Wealth can get Learn'd Catius by the Gods I ask this boon Where e're you go Sir I must have it done Pray bring me to this copious Spring of Truth That I may heare it drop from his own mouth For though you talk as if you understood His Precepts well and knew the rules for Food Yet from your Lips I 'me sure they can't be known As well as if I heard them from his own Besides to see the Figure of the Man Would please me much pray show me if you can A sweet with which blest you are almost cloy'd And do not value ' cause so oft enjoy'd But eager I to unknown Fountains press To draw from thence the Rules of Happiness SATYR V. The Heads of the Fifth Satyr A Dialogue between Tiresias and Ulysses where He instructs him how to get an Estate TIresias now indulge one favor more And teach beside what thou hast taught before How to regain my Wealth now I 'me poor Why do You smile Let me not beg in vain Is 't not enough that you have scap't the Main And safely come to Ithaca again Unerring Prophet see as you fore-told I am come home again Grey Wrinkled Old And Poor my Wives Gallants have seiz'd my Gold My Wealth is theirs and what is Vertue worth Without a good Estate to set it forth Well then since to be poor you fear and hate In short learn how to get a good Estate If thou dost light on any thing that 's rare Send it thy old rich Neighbor never spare If He be rich and old without an Heir The first ripe Apples of thy choicest Tree Offer to him before thy Deity The Rich Man must be reverenc't more than He. What tho He be a Villain basely bred Hath kill'd his Brother or his Country fled Yet wait upon him when he please to call And when you meet him cringe and give the Wall What would you have me cringe to every Slave At Troy I did not so my self behave Contending always with the Great the Brave Then thou l't be poor Well Sir my mind I 'le force To suffer this for I have suffer'd worse But prithee tell me for I wish to know Which way I may be rich and quickly too Then as I told I 'le tell thee o're agen Still strive to please the old and wealthy Men. Try still to get into their Wills secure Their Love their Humors patiently endure Tho two or three discerning Eyes perceive The Hook and fly the Bait yet never leave Others will bite when those sly Fops are gone Still bait thy hook and urge thy purpose on If any Cause or great or small be try'd I 'le teach thee how to choose the better Side Be sure to plead for him that 's childless old And rich tho He is impudently bold And sues his better still pervert the Laws And start new Quirks and scorn the better Cause And better Man if He hath hopeful Boys To be his Hiers or teeming Wife enjoys Then Sir or
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
Bore We are the Number born to drink and eat The Woers of Penelope the spruce the neat The lazy Rascals and whose whole design Was to get vicious pleasure and be fine Who thought it vertuous to sleep half the Day And lull their Cares with Musick Dance and Play 2. Rogues rise before 't is light to kill and Thieve Wilt Thou not wake to save thy self alive If now when well you will not leave your Ease In vain you 'l try when prest with a Disease And when you cannot sleep except you read And in good things employ your watchful head Pale Treacherous Sins will swift approaches make And Lust or Envy vex Thee whilst awake For why when any thing offends thy Eyes Dost thou streight seek for ease and streight advise Yet if it shall oppress thy Mind endure The ills with Patience and defer the Cure He that hath once begun a good design Hath finish't half dare to be wise begin He that deferrs to live is like the Clown Who waits expecting till the River 's gone But that still rouls its Streams and will roul on We seek for Wealth a good and fruitful Wife The pleasures comforts and supports of Life Our Woods are tam'd and plough'd encrease our store He that hath got enough desires no more Did ever Lands or heaps of Silver ease The feav'rish Lord Or cool the hot Disease Or free his Mind from Cares He must have health He must be well that would enjoy his wealth He that desires or fears diseas'd in mind Wealth profits him as Pictures do the blind Plaisters the Gouty Feet and charming Airs And sweetest sounds the stuft and troubled Ears The musty Vessels sour what they contain Scorn Pleasure Pleasure hurts that 's bought with pain The Greedy want to Wishes fix an End The Envious pine at th' fatness of their Friend The fiercest Tyrants never yet could find A greater rack than Envy to the mind The Man that doth too hastily engage That is all fire and cannot curb his rage Baffles his own design whilst weaker grown With malice unreveng'd He strikes too soon Anger 's a short frenzy curb thy Soul And check thy rage which must be rul'd or rule Use all thy Art with all thy force restrain And take the strongest Bitt and firmest Rein The Jocky trains the young and tender Horse Whilst yet soft mouth'd He breeds him to the Course The Whelp since when i' th' Hall He learn'd to bark At Bucks-skins stuff'd now ranges o're the Park Now now whilst young with vertuous Rules begin Such holy Precepts now and free from sin What season'd first the Vessel keeps the Tast Now if you lag behind or run too fast I stay not for the slow I mind my Race Nor press on those that run a swifter pace EPISTLE III. To his Friend Julius Florus A familiar Epistle enquiring about several matters MY Julius Florus I would gladly hear Where Claudius Caesar's kinsman kindles War Doth Thrace or Hebrus bound in Chains of Snow Or doth the Hellespont I wish to know Or Asia's fruitful Fields detain you now What do the Wits design Who nobly dares This I would know to write great Caesar's Wars And who inspir'd with an unusual rage Shall spread his Fights and Leagues thro future Age. And what doth Titius He of growing Fame Who doth not fear to drink of Pindar's Stream Who scorns known Springs and Lakes that glorious He And is He well and doth He think of Me Doth He the Muse propitious nobly sing And fit to Roman Harps the Theban string Or is he writing Plays and treads the Stage In murd'ring Verse and swells with Tragick rage And how doth Celsus do Whom I still warn as I have often done To get some Stock some riches of his own And not from others labours kept for fame In wise Apollo's Temple steal a name Lest all the Birds should come and claim their own And th'Chough be his when her stoln Plumes are gone What do you do What will your Mind produce From what sweet Beds of Thyme suck pretious juice For you have Wit enough your sence is great And not deform'dly rough but fine and neat Whether with poynant Tongue you plead a Cause Defend the Innocent and teach the Laws Or choose soft Numbers and smooth Poetry The chiefest Crown still justly waits on Thee If You could leave those Cares that num thy Mind Shake off thy fears and leave the Clog behind Then you would live as Wisdom's rules advise This is the Work the noble Study this This rich and poor should make their greatest care If we would live secure and free from fear To honest Men and to our Country dear Pray write me whether for I wish to know You love Numenius as you ought to do Or if the former difference clos'd in vain Was never fully cur'd but breaks again But you in whatsoever part you live Whether 't is heat or rashness makes you strive Both brave and hot and Oh! too dear to prove How frail are all the bands of Brothers love Where e're you now reside return to Rome I feed a Steer to offer when you come EPISTLE IV. A familiar complement to his Friend Albius Tibullus ALbus the fairest Critic that I know What shall I say that you are doing now In Pedan fields do you design to write More great than Cassius and with higher flight Or dost thou gravely walk the healthy Wood Considering what befits the Wise and Good For You are not all Body void of Mind The Gods have given a Soul of Noble kind And Wealth and Skill enough to use thy Store What could a Nurse for her dear Child wish more Than that He might be Sober whilst He lives And able to express what He conceives Enjoy the Love of all and Fame and Health And cleanly Diet with sufficient Wealth Whilst mid'st strong hopes and fears thy time doth wast Think every rising Sun will be thy last And so the grateful unexpected Hour Of Life prolong'd when come will please the more Then come and see me now grown plump and fine When you would laugh at one of Epicurus Swine EPISTLE V. To his Friend Torquatus He invites his Friend to a small Collation IF you can sit upon a paultry Seat My Friend Torquatus and endure to Eat A homely Dish a Sallad all the Treat Sir I shall make a Feast my Friends invite And beg that you would Sup with me to Night My Liquor flow'd from the Minturnian Vine In Taurus Consulship 't is Common Wine If you have better let the Flasks be sent Or let what I the Lord provide content My Servants sweep and furnish every Room My Dishes all are cleans'd against you come Forbear thy wanton hopes and Toyl for gain And Moschus Cause 't is all but idle Pain To morrow Caesar's Birth-day comes to give Release to Cares and a small time to live Then we may sleep till Noon and gay delight And merry talk prolong the Summer's Night
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
they eagerly desir'd But straight were cloy'd and left what they admir'd For what disgusts our fancies what doth please But may be chang'd these are the fruits of Ease This happy fortune bears this springs from Peace 'T was heretofore a credit here at Rome To mind a Shop all day and keep at home Attend Ones Client and promote his Cause Inform his Ignorance and teach the Laws To make good Debts and drive a gainful Trade And know what Interest may be justly paid Instruct the Young and hear the Old Debate What will increase what ruine an Estate This Humor 's chang'd now Reigns a New delight All must be Authors now and all must Write All strive to get the Bays and all Rehearse They Dine they Sup in Rhyme and drink in Verse E'en I that swear I never try'd a Muse E'en I 'me forsworn my Deeds my Words accuse My Quill is scribling too before 't is light I call for Paper Pen and Ink and write He that 's no Pilot is afraid to Sail Urge him to guide a Ship you sha'nt prevail And only Doctors will pretend to heal By Smiths alone are Locks and Staples made And none pretend but Artists in the Trade But now for Poetry we all are fit And skilful or unskilful all must write And yet this Madness thousand Goods commend A thousand pleasures wait and all attend A Poet 's seldom Covetous or Nice Safe and secure within himself he lyes He minds and loves his Rhymes and those alone Tell him his Goods are burnt his Slaves are gone Or his Fields lost He laughs nor strives to cheat His Ward or Friend a stranger to deceit He 's thrifty feasts upon a dish of Pease And lives content with Houshold-Bread and Cheese Unfit for War yet they are good in Peace For great things by the help of small increase Instruct our looseness and inform our Ease They teach our Boys to hate all words Obscene To follow generous Rules and speak like Men. And then slide gently down with Vertuous Rules Into the tender Breast and form their Souls Restrain their Envy and correct their rage Tell them what 's good instruct their tender Age With fit Examples and their griefs asswage How had our Sacred Songs and Hymns been made And how our Pray'rs as high as Heav'n convey'd Did not the Muses Poets sancies raise To teach us how to pray and how to praise In Verse the fawning Quire her Plagues bewails And begs a speedy comfort and prevails Good Weather happy years and much encrease Their Pray'rs are streightway heard all smile in Peace The Year is rich the Fields with Plenty flow Verse softens Gods above and Gods below The Ancient Swains those temperate happy Swains Contented Sovereigns of their little Plains When all their Corn was hous'd would make a Feast Unbend their Minds and lay them down to rest Their Cares dissolv'd into a happy Thought And Minds enjoy'd the rest their labour sought A Pig on Tellus's Altars left his Blood And Milk from large brown Bowls to Sylvan flow'd Their Wife their Neighbours and their pratling Boys Were call'd all tasted of the Country Joys They Drank they Danc't they Sang made wanton Sport Enjoy'd their selves for life they knew was short Hence grew the Liberty of the looser Muse Hence they grew Scurrilous and would abuse Hence those loose Dialogues at Marriage Feasts Yet still they were but Mirth and Country Jests At last they shew'd their Teeth and sharply bit And Railery usurp't the Place of Wit Good Persons were abus'd and suffer'd wrong They loudly talk't no Law to curb their Tongue The wounded griev'd the smart provok't their Hate And all untoucht bewail'd the Common Fate Till Laws commanded to regard Mens Fame Severely lash the Vice but spare the Name Fear made them civil and design to write With modesty speak well and to delight Greece conquer'd did the Conqueror o'recome Polish't the rude and sent her Arts to Rome The former roughness flow'd in smoother Rhymes And good facetious Humor pleas'd the Times Yet they continu'd long and still we find Some little marks of the old Rustick mind Some of the Scurrilous Humor left behind 'T was long before Rome read the Graecian Plays For Cares took up her Nights and Wars her Days Till Carthage ruin'd she grew soft in Peace And then inquir'd what weighty Sophocless What Eschylus what Thespis taught the Age What good what profit did commend the Stage And then they turn'd their Plays their thoughts were high By Nature great and fit for Tragedy But to review to blot what once was writ Oh that was mean it was a shame to Wit The Comic then was thought the easier way Because 't is common Humor makes the Play Yet 't is the hardest for the faults appear So Monstrous and the Criticks so severe That e'en their greatest Mercy cannot spare Plautus 't is true observes the Rules of Art His well drawn Figures suit with every part He Paints an Amorous Fop a Jilting Jade A careful Father or designing Bawd But Dorsen rudely draws his Parasites How loose his Lines how uncorrect he writes He writes for Gold and if his Pocket's cram'd He cares not let the Play be Clap't or Damn'd But He that Writes to have applause for Wit If unconcern'd the grave Spectator sit He dyes but if attentive then He 's proud They like my Fancy and my Plays are good So small and so contemn'd a thing will raise Or damp Mens eager Thoughts that write for Praise I like not this and I forswear the Stage If clap't I must be proud if damn'd must rage And who would be so bold to write that knew The Judging Men of Honor are but few The Vulgar Thousands who might hiss the Play And if our Nobles should dislike their way Would huff and swear and quarrel straight and fight Or leave the Stage to see a Puppet-sight Or to the Bears for that 's the Crowds delight But now our Nobles too are Fops and Vain Neglect the Sense but love the Painted Scene Four hours are spent in Show to please the sight A tedious Battle and at last a Flight Then Kings in Chains and to reward their Toil Corinthian Statues and a world of Spoil Would not Democritus if now alive Split here would He these Fooleries forgive And if the Vulgar with a wild amaze Neglect the Actors and forsake the Plays And on an Elephant or a Panther gaze Sure He would look and in the gaping Crowd Find better Humor than the Actor show'd Besides He needs must think they write in vain And teach deaf Asses prodigal of their pain For who can judge or who can hear the Wit When Noise and strange Confusion fills the Pit As when the Winds dash Waves against the Shore Or lash the Woods and all the Monsters Roar So great the shout when rich and strangely drest The Player comes they clap his gawdy Vest Well hath the Actor spoken Not a Line Why then d' ye
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
Squire for Title hugely takes Grave softheads Me your Friend your Vertue makes I know the Law and have a ready Tongue And rather Sir then you shall suffer wrong I 'le loose these Eyes My utmost Care be us'd That you be neither cheated nor abus'd And you may take your pleasure sit at ease Ne're fear I 'le pawn my Life for your success Do you still mind this Cause and that alone What ever weather 't is or if the Sun With Dog days beams cleaves e'en the marble Stone Or as fat Furius hath it all below Is Ice and Jove o'respews the Alps with snow Whilst one stands by and jogs his Neighbor see How fine a Lawyer 's that That that is He How useful to his Friends and how He sweats And Pleads This brings more Gudgeons to thy Nets Besides if any hath a sickly Hier And good Estate then make thy Interest there Lest courting childless Persons still thy Arts appear Creep gently in untill your hopes you seize Be second Heir and rise by just degrees And so if your young Boys disease prevails Thou shalt have all This method seldom fails If any bids thee read his Will deny Yet slyly with the corner of thy Eye Run quickly ore the two or three first lines There 's Reason for 't and see if He designs Thee the sole Hier or else with many joyns For time shall come as years in order flow When one a Scribe shall bob the gapeing Crow What art thou mad or dost design to see If such abstruse discourse can puzle me Ulysses what I sing shall be the state Of Things to come I read the leaves of Fate And distant Objects see in the event Then prethee tell me what that Riddle meant When one a Youth of Great Aenaeas Race The Parthiane terror rules the Earth and Seas Coranus weary of a single Life Takes chuff Nasica's stately maid to Wife Coranus then shall beg him to peruse The Will He makes Nasica long refuse At last consents but what he reads appears No Legacy to Him and His but Tears Now if his Servants manage him commend And make his greatest Favourite thy Friend Besure be lavish in his praise and then When thou art gone He 'l praise Thee o're again This Method's good but 't is the best design To storm the Man himself and take him in If He makes Verses tho extremely lewd Admire and swear his Fustian Rhymes are good Or if He whores besure his wish prevent Let thy Penelope be freely sent And dost thou think that she the Wise the Chast Who all the numerous Woers Arts surpast Will yield to him and be a Whore at last Ay those were artless Youths they knew not how To treat and rather came to eat then Woe So she was chast but when she shall perceive And share with Thee the Presents He can give Like Dogs once blooded she will never leave I 'le tell the true and what I chanc't to know A woman dy'd at Thebes not long ago And thus by Will She did injoyn her Heir First oyl my Corps and to the Sepulcher Upon thy naked back my Body bear This spake the Will and this as most believ'd That she might then slip from him she contriv'd For He was too observant whilst she liv'd Do you be cautious still in your Address Too often or too seldom will displease The grave Morose do hate a pratling Tongue That speaks unask't yet be not dumb too long But like arch Davus in the Play attend Your neck awry as fearful to offend Still show the greatest Care that can be shown More careful of his Life than of your own When e're the Air is sharp besure to mind And eagerly request him pray be kind To your dear health and me nor trust the Wind. If throng'd thrust Thou and free him from the Throng If talkative endure his tedious Tongue If he be vain and loves his own dear praise Be sure commend and high Encomiums raise Still blow the Bladder never leave him off Till He shall bless himself and cry enough Now when he dyes and frees thee from thy Care Thy dreaming Hopes and melancholly Fear And broad awak't you find that you are Heir Then sigh and is my dear Campanion gone Where shall I have so kind so good a One If possible your greatest Art imploy To shed some tears 't is good to mask your joy And if you are to make the Funeral Be sure be noble that will take with All Or if thy fellow Heir 's a sickly Man Then wheedle thus and chouse him if you can I want that ready Mony you can spare And if you please Sir you shall buy my share But hold fierce Pluto calls me back to Hell And I can talk no more good speed farewell SATYR VI. The Heads of the Sixth Satyr 1. His moderate wishes 2. The troubles of a City Life 3. The Pleasures of the Country 4. Little without fear is best 1. THese were my Prayers and these my constant Vows A pretty Seat a Fountain near my House A Garden and a little Grove of Trees 'T is well the Gods have given more than these Enough kind Mercury no more I crave Only continue still what now I have If I am not profuse and wast or raise My moderat Fortune by unlawful Ways If I ne're wish Oh that the Gods would yield That Nook that spoyls the Figure of my Field Or oh that I a pot of Gold had found As he who hir'd to Till anothers Ground By the assistance of a lucky God Grew rich and bought the very Land he plow'd But if I live content preserve my store And be my Guard as thou hast been before Defend my Cattle and my Flocks be kind And fatten all I have except my Mind Then when I from the noisy Town retreat And free from Bus'ness take my Country Seat What shall I do but write what Subject choose But easy Satyr and improve my Muse Here no Ambition kills no heavy Wind Affects my Body and corrupts my Mind To Fields the Gods long Life and plenty gave No sickly Autumns here inrich the Grave 2. Old Father Janus thus the Gods decree We Men begin our Years and Toyl with Thee With Thee my Verse you hurry me to Town To be a Witness and I must be gone Tho 't Snows and Winter whirls the freezing day In shortest Circles yet I must away And then when my ungrateful task is done Press thro the Crowd and justle every One That doth not make me room and thro 'em down Whylst He that 's kick't crys Plague and why so fast Pox What d' ye mean and why in so much Hast When you run to my Lord you scour the Street Press on and kick and justle all you meet And this I swear is pleasant this is sweet But when I come a busy Crowd appears Of loud impertinent Petitioners And their requests dance thick about my Ears One begs that you would be at Court