the rest You being one the best will iudge the best The ninth of February the sunne enters into Pisces Or the signe of the two fishes Pisces February NOw snow and raine and hayle and slauering fleete The Delphean God hath suckt from sea and land With exhalations on the earth they greet Powr'd downe by Iris liberall hand If foule fac'd February keepe 〈◊〉 touch He makes the toyling Plowmans prouerbe right By night by day by little and by much It fils the ditch with either blacke or white And as the hard coâ—â—â—â—â—ed butting Ram At setting forth was Tytans dayntiest dish So to conclude his feasting with a messe of fish And long in Pisces he doth not remaine But leaues the fish and fals to flesh againe To the Honourable Sir Thomas Ridgewaye Knight Barronet Treasurer at Warres in Ireland c. Thomas Ridgewaye Anagramma God Arms thy waie Againe Age is made worthy THough sinne and Hell worke mortals to betraie Yet gainst their mallice still God Armes thy waie when life and lands and all away must fade By Noble actions Age is worthy made Certaine Sonnets made in the forme of AEquiuoques on the destruction of Troy WHen Hellen was for Priams sonne a mate From Greece bereaft by Paris and his Band Which caus'd the Greekes the Trojan mindes amate Some curs'd the boy and other some they band The strumpet Queene which brought the burning brand That Illion firde and wrack'd old Priams Race And on their Names long liuing shame did brand For headstrong lust runnes an vnbounded Race This beauteous peece whose features radient blase Made Menelaus horne-mad warre to wage And set all Troy in a combustious blase Whose ten yeeres triumphes scarse was worth their wage For all their Conquests and their battring Rams Their leaders most return'd with heads like Rams To the noble Gentleman Sir Oliuer Saint-Iohn Anagramma Harts Ioyn in loue THy loyall seruice to thy King doth prooue That to thy Countrey thy Hart Ioyns in loue WIth raging madnesse and with fury fell Great Diomed and Aiax left their Tents And in the throat of death to blowes they fell To make more worke for plaisters and for tents With blood imbruing all the Phrigian Clime Whilest men like Autumne leaues drop dying downe Where some through blood and wounds to honor clime And some their mangled lims bestrowes the downe Whilest Paris with his Hellen in his Armes Imbraces her about the wastfull waste Saw many a Gallant Knight in burnisht Armes Who from their Tents made haste to make more waste Who to their Tents did nere returne againe Thus warres makes gaine a losse and losse a gaine To the noble Gentleman Sir EDVVARD BLAINEYE Knight Gouernor of Monnaahan in the North of Ireland EDVVARD BLAYNEY Anagramma Liue and Abide euer THy trustie seruice hath so oft beene tride For which thy fame liue euer and Abide HAd Priams Queene in Cradle slaine her Sonne The lust full Paris haplesse boy I meane Then Illions Towers might still haue brau'd the Sunne His death to saue their liues had beene the meane Vnlucky lucke when Iuno Venus Pallas Did craue his censure vpon Ida Mount Whence sprung the cause that Troy and Priams Pallace Were burnt which earst the skies did seeme to mount Had he beene drownd or strangled with a corde He had not rob'd Oenon of her heart Or had he di'de ere Hellen did accord With him to hâ—â—d her husband like a Harte But Troy it is thy fate this knaue and Baggage Confounds thy state and fires thy bagge and baggage To the worthy Gentleman Sir HENRY FOLIOT Gouernour of Balishannon in the North of Ireland HENRYE FOLIOTT Anagramma Honor Fitt lie THy Honor Fitlie to thy worth is fit It Honors thee and thou dost honor it TRoyes fruitfull Queene did many Children bare So braue heroike and so slout a Crew Who all in noble actions did accrue When age had made their Parents balde and bare They made their daintlesse courage to appeare Amidst the throngs of danger and debate Where wars remorselesse stroake kil'd many a Peere Whilest swords not words their counsels did debate But bloud on bloud their furie could not sate For fierce Achilles did braue Hector gore To guerdon which the Graecian in his gore Did wallow whilest the Troians laughing sate Thus did Achilles bid the world adiewe For Hectors death Reuenge did claime a due To the Right worshipfull and worthy Gentleman Sir Simon Weaston of Litchfield in the County of Stafford Knight SIMON WESTON Anagramma Mowntes Sion MOwnts Sion figures that surmounting place Where vertue 's Mownt vnto the throne of grace TEn weary yeeres these bloody broyles did last Vntill the Greeks had form'd a woodden steed Which they on Priam would bestow at last When force preuailes not falshood stands in steed False Simon who so well could forge a lie Whose traitrous eies shead many a treach'rous teare Knew well that in the horses wombe did lie The wolues that Troy did all in peeces teare Polyxena Achilles deere bought deere Was hew'de in gobbets on her louers graue King Queene and Troy for Hellen paid too deere All felt the Graecian Rage both yong and graue To Kings and Commons death's alike all one Except AEneas who escap'd alone To the truely vertuous Ladie MARIE WESTON wife to Sir Simon Weston Knight MARIE WESTON Anagramma I Won Me a Rest. WHere true borne worth's Innated in the breast There alwaies goodnesse winnes Eternall rest Certaine Sonnets variously composed vpon diuers subiects Sonnet 1. True Nobilitie GReat is the glory of the Noble minde Where life and death are equall in respect If fates be good or bad vnkinde or kinde Not proud in freedome nor in thrall deiect With courage scorning fortunes worst effect And spitting in foule Enuies cankred face True honor thus doth baser thoughts subiect Esteeming life a slaue that serues disgrace Foule abiect thoughts become the minde that 's base That deemes there is no better life then this Or after death doth feare a worser place Where guilt is paid the guerdon of Amisse But let swolne enuy swell vntill shee burst The Noble minde defies her to her worst To the Noble Gentleman Sir ROBERT RIDGEVVAY Knight son and Heire to Sir Thomas Ridgeway Knight Barronet ROBERT RIDGEVVAYE Anagramma I Regard obey vertu THough Thousands vainely passe their time away Time I Regard and Vertue I obey LO thus the burden of Adultrous guilt I showring vengeance Troy and Troians saw No Age no sexe no beauty Gold or guilt Withstood foretold Cassandraes saced saw Shee often said false Hellens beauties blast Should be the cause the mighty Graecian pow're Their names and fames with infamy should blast And how the Gods on them would vengeance pow're But poore Cassandra prophesied in vaine She clam'rous cries as t' were to sencelesse Rockes The youths of Troy in merry scornfull veine Securely slept whilst lust the cradle rockes Till bloudy burning Indignation came And all their mirth with mourning ouercame To
the worthy and vertuous Ladie the Lady Elizabeth Ridgeway wife to Sir Rob. Ridgewaye ELIZABETH RIDGEVVAYE Anagramma I byde Agree with Zeal THe Subiects of th' Almighties Common-weale They all in one Abide Agree with zeale Sonnet 2. Enuy and Honour COuld Enuy die if Honour were deceast She could not liue for Honour's Enuies foode Shee liues by sucking of the Noble blood And scales the lofty top of Fames high Creast Base thoughts compacted in the Abiect breast The Meager Monster doth nor harme nor good But like the wane or waxe of ebbe or flood Shee shunnes as what her gorge doth most detest Where heau'n bred honour in the Noble minde From out the Cauerns of the breast proceeds There helborne Enuie shewes her hellish kinde And Vulturlike upon their actions feedes But heere 's the ode that Honours tree shall groe When Enuies rotten stumpe shall burne in woe To the noble Knight Sir Francis Willoughby sonne and heire to Sir Perciuall Willoughby Knight of Wollerton in the County of Nottinghame FRANCIS WILLOVGHBYE Anagramma Lou Wil Banishe Greif SAd sorrow may assault men like a thiefe But spight of Enuy loue will Banish Greife Sonnet 3. Beauties luster DEw drinking Phaebus hid his golden head Balm-breathing Zepherus lay close immur'd The silly Lambs and Kyds lay all as dead Skies earth and seas all solace had abiur'd Poore men and beasts to toylesome taskes inur'd In drooping manner spent the drowsie day All but the Owle whose safety night assur'd She gladly cuts the ayre with whooting lay When loe the blossom of my blooming May From out her Cooche maiestickly doth rise Then Tytan doth his radient beames display And clouds are vanisht from the vaulty skies Sweete Zephirs gales reuiueth beasts and men Madg Howlet scuds vnto her neast agen To the Vertuous Lady and wife to Sir Francis Willoughby Knight CASSANDRAE WILLOVGHBYE Anagramma Wish Grace Aboue All ends THe power of Heauen to me such fauour sends That I wish Grace Aboue all other ends Sonnet 4. Hope and Despaire DOmestick broyles my tortur'd heart inuades Twixt wau'ring Hope and desp'rate black Despaire To prosecute my sute the one perswades The other frustrates all my hopes with cares Hope sets me on infer's shee 's fayrest faire How deire disdaine doth dwell in fowlest Cels And fell dispaire calls beauty Enuies heire Which torments me more then ten thousand hels Loe thus my former hope despaire expels Mid'st which extreames what 's best for me to doe In open armes despaire gainst me rebels Hope traytor-like giues free consent thereto And till these traytors twaine consume my city I restlesse rest to rest vpon her pitty To the Right worshipfull Master George Caluert Esquire one of the Clarkes of his Maiesties priuy Connsell GEORG CALVERT Anagramma Grace got rule VVIt Wisdome Learning Vertue all agree That in thy breast their Mansiion house shall be Sonnet 5. Three blinde Commanders BLinde fortune sightlesse loue and eyelesse death Like Great Triumue'rs swayes this earthly roome Mans actions affections and very breath Are in subiection to their fatall doome Ther 's nothing past or present or to come That in their purblinde power is not comprizd From crowne to cart from cradle to the toome All are by them defamde or eternizde Why should we then esteeme this doating life That 's in the guideance of such blind-fold rule Whose chiefest peace is a continuall strife Whose gawdy pompes the pack and man the Mule Which liues long day he beares as he is able Til deaths blacke night doth make the graue his stable To the worthy Gentleman Captaine Arthur Basset in Ireland ARTHVR BASSET Anagramma Be as tru harts TRu vertue mixt with valour Arms with Arts And all Innate in thee be as tru harts Sonnet 6. Another of the praise of musicke T Was Musick fetch'd Euridice from hell And rap'd grim Pluto with harmonious straines Renowned Orpheus did with Musick quell The fiends and ease the tortur'd of their paines The Dolphin did account it wondrous gaines To heare Arion play as he did ride Gods feinds fish fowles and sheapherds on the plaines Melodious Musick still hath magnifide And antient records plainely doe decide How braue Orlando Palatine of France When he was raging mad for Meadors bride Sweet Musicke cur'd his crazed wits mischance For Musicks onely fit for Heau'ns high quire Which though men cannot praise enough admire To the worshipfull Master Francis Ansleye of Dublinne in Ireland Esquire FRANCIS ANSLEYE Anagramma Lifes Cares Vaynn HE that to Life Eternall will Attaine Must euer here esteeme this Lifes Cares Vainn Sonnet 7. The Map of Misery LIke to the stone that 's cast in deepest waue That rests not till the bottom it hath sound So I a wretch inthrald in sorrowes caue With woe and desperations fetters bound The captiue slaue imprison'd vnder ground Doom'b there by fates t' expire his wofull daies With care orewhelm'd with griefe and sorrow drownd Makes mournefull monings and lamenting layes Accusing and accursing fortunes playes Whose wither'd Autume leauelesse leaues his tree And banning death for his to long delayes Remaines the onely poore despised hee If such a one as this the world confine His mischiefes are a sport compard with mine To the Right worshipfull and worthy Gentleman Master Henry Cooley of Carbye in the County of Kiluare in Ireland RIght worthy Sir I pray the powers aboue To make thy fortunes equall to my loue To the Noble and vertuous Lady the Lady Cecillia Ridgeway wife to the honourable Knight Sir Thomas Ridgeway Knight Barronet MOre happy and more worthy scarce is any Wife to a worthy mother vnto many Whose actions shewes they from a stock did spring Which taught them serue their heauen and earthly King Sonnet 8. In praise of musicke NO Poet crownd with euerliuing bayes Though Art like floods should from his knowledge flowe He could not write enough in Musicks prayse To which both man and Angels loue doe owe If my bare knowledge ten times more did know And had ingrost all art from Pernas hill If all the Muses should their skils bestow On me to amplifie my barren skill I might attempt in shew of my good wil In Musicks praise some idle lines to write But wanting iudgement and my accent ill I still should be vnworthy to indite And run my wit on ground like ship on shealfe For Musicks praise consisteth in it selfe To the worthy Gentleman and my very good friend Master Iohn Blencowe of Greies Inne Anagramma Noble in ech wo. LEt fortune when she dares but proue thy foe In spight of fate th' art Noble in ech woe A Cataplasmicall Satyre composed and compacted of sundry simples as salt vinegar wormewood and a little gall very profitable to cure the imposlumes of vice A Sauage rough haird Satyre needs no guide Wher 's no way from the way he cannot slide Then haue amongst you through the brakes and bries From those who to the Ceders top aspires Vnto the lowest shrub or branch
of broome That hath his breeding from earths teeming woombe And now I talke of broome of shrubs and ceadars Me thinkes a world of trees are now my leaders To prosecute this trauel of my pen And make comparison twixt trees and men The Ceadars and the high cloud kissing Pynes Fecundious oliues and the crooked Vynes The Elme the Ashe the Oake the Masty Beeche The Peare the Aple and the rug gownd Peache And many more for it would tedious be To name each fruitfull and vnfruitfull tree But to proceed to show how men and trees In birth in breed in life and death agrees In their beginnings they haue all one birth Both haue their naturall being from the earth And heauens high hand where he doth please to blesse Makes trees or men or fruitfull or fruitlesse In sundry vses trees doe serue mans turne To build t' adorne to feed or else to burne Thus is mans state in al degrees like theirs Some are got vp to th' top of honours stayres Securely sleeping on opinions pillow Yet as vnfruitfull as the fruitlesse willow And fill vp roomes like worthlesse trees in woods Whose goodnesse all consists in ill got goods He like the Cedar makes a goodly show But no good fruite will from his greatnesse grow Vntill he die and from his goods depart And then giues all away despight his heart Then must his friends with mourning cloth be clad With insides merry and with outsides sad What though by daily grinding of the poore By bribry and extortion got his store Yet at his death he gownes some foure score men And t is no doubt he was a good man then Though in his life he thousands hath vndone To make wealth to his cursed coffers run If at his buriall groats a peece be giuen I le warrant you his soules in hell or heauen And for this doale perhaps the beggers striues That in the throng seuenteene doe lose their liues Let no man tax me here with writing lies For what is writ I saw with mine owne eyes Thus men like barren trees are feld and lopt And in the fire to burne are quickly popt Some man perhaps whilst he on earth doth liue Part of his vaine superfluous wealth will giue To build of Almshouses some twelue or tenne Or more or lesse to harbour aged men Yet this may nothing be to that proportion Of wealth which he hath gotten by extortion What i st for man his greedy minde to serue To be the cause that thousands die and sterue And in the ende like a vaine glorious theefe Will giue some ten or twelue a poore reliefe Like robbers on the way that take a purse And giue the poore a mite to scape Gods curse But know this thou whose goods are badly gotten When thou art in thy graue consum'd and rotten Thine heire perhaps will feast with his sweet punke And Dice and Drabe and euery day be drunke Carowsing Indian Trinidado smoke Whilest thou with Sulphurous flames art like to choake Se se yond gallant in the Cloke-bagge breech He 's nothing but a trunke cram'd full of speech He 'le sweare as if gainst heauen he warres would wage And meant to plucke downe Phaebus in his rage When let a man but try him hee 's all oathes And odious lies wrapt in vnpaid for cloathes And this Lad is a Roaring boy forsooth An exlent morsell for the hangmans tooth He carelesly consumes his golden pelfe In getting which his Father damnde himselfe Whose soule perhaps in quenchlesse fire doth broile Whilest on the earth his sonne keepes leuell coile T is strang to Church what numbers dayly flocke To drinke the spring of the eternall Rocke The great soule sauing Sathan slaying word Gainst sinne death hell th' alconquering sacred sword Where high Iehouahs Trumpeters sound forth From East to West from South vnto the North For through all lands their Embasseyes are borne And neuer doth againe in vaine returne Which either is of life to life the sauor Or death to death exilde from Gods sweet fauour Which blisse or bane their 's many daily heares Who leaue their hearts at home and bring their eares And least their reckelesse heads the word should smother As soone as 't enters t'one it 's out at tother For let a Preacher preach vntill he sweats Denouncing heau'ns great wrath in thundring threats Gainst sinne and sinners Gainst high hearted pride Gainst murder which hath oft for vengeance cride Or enuie leachery Auarice or swearing Or any other vice they le giue the hearing And say the Preacher wondrous paines did take And did a very learned Sermon make But what good Reformation hence proceeds Are Mountaine words and little Mole hill deedes Tell Vsrers they are banisht from Gods hill Yet they 'le continue in extortion still Tell the proud Courtier that he is but earth He 'le o're the poore insult and bragge of birth Expostulate the great Almighties Ire And tell the murdrer hell shall be his hire Yet e're he le pocket vp the least disgrace His en'mies guts shall be his Rapiers case Tell daily drunkards hell shall be their lot Thei 'le knocke and call to haue the tother pot Tell Panders Bawdes knaues and adulteous whores How they in hell must pay their cursed scores Tell Mizer chuffes who charity do banish How they from heau'n eternally must vanish Tell all in gen'rall of their liues amisse And tell them that hels bottomlesse Abysse Must be their portions if they not repent Till true repentance heau'ns iust wrath preuent Yet when the Preacher all he can hath told Soules vnto sinne are daily bought and sold. The Mizer with his leachery of Chinke On earth will giue his dropsie soule to drinke And though the word beat on his Anuile heart From Vsury and Extortion he 'le not part The piebald Gallant to the Church will come To heare his soules saluations totall summe Yet his high pride is in such hauty dotage Forgets he 's sprung from a poore country Cotage The murdrer heares how reprobated Caine Was curst of God that had his brother slaine Yet when he 's from the Church forgets it all And stabs a man for taking of the wall Should I through all mens seu'rall actions runne I know my businesse neuer would be done The rich man hates the poore man and the poore Doth euuie gainst the rich man for his store Thus is the blest soules euerliuing bread In bounteous measure all the earth or'espread Some on the high way fall and takes no roote But is of no esteeme trode vnder foote Some falles on stones and some alights on thornes Deuour'd with fowles or choak'd with scoffs or scornes Some little portion falles in fruitfull ground Th' encrease of which is to be seldome found For let men waigh their good deedes with their bad For thousand ils one good will scarse be had And yet no doubt but God in store doth keepe His neere deere children his best flocke of sheepe For though vnto the world
states commands In Numbers numberlesse runs through your hands Yet this I know it neuer moues the minde From goodnesse that to goodnesse is inclinde And though it makes most men dishonest proue It cannot make your honest mindes remoue Then as your kindnesse vnto me assures Your loue so I remaine for euer yours To Mistresse Rose Anagramma SORE SOund Rose though Sore thy Anagram doth meane Mistake it not it meanes no sore vncleane But it Alludes vnto the lofty skie In which thy vertue shall both Sore and slye To my approued good friend Mr. ROBARTE CVDDNER Anagramma Record and be tru MY thoughts Record and their account is true I scarce haue better friends aliue then you A nest of Epigrams Fortune 1. T Is Fortunes glory to keepe Poets poore And cram weake witted Idiots with her store And t is concluded in the wisest schooles The blinded drab shall euer fauour fooles Epigram 2. Loue. LOue is a dying life a liuing death A vapor shadow buble and a breath An idle bable and a paltry toy Whose greatest Patron is a blinded boy But pardon loue my iudgement is vniust For what I spake of loue I meant of lust Epigram 3. Death THose that scape fortune and th' extreames of loue Vnto their longest homes by death are droue Where Caesars Kaesars Subiects Abiects must Be all alike consum'd to durt and dust Death endeth all our cares or cares encreace It sends vs vnto lasting paine or peace Epigram 4. Fame WHeÌ„ Fortune Loue Death their tasks haue doon Fame makes our liues through many ages run For be our liuing actions good or ill Fame keepes a record of our doings still By Fame Great Iulius Caesar euer liues And Fame infamous life to Nero giues Epigram 5. Time ALL making marring neuer turning Time To all that is is period and is prime Time weares out Fortune Loue and Death and Fame And makes the world forget ther proper name Ther 's nothing that so long on earth can last But in conclusion Time will lay it wast Epigram 6. Kame kathee MY Muse hath vow'd reuenge shall haue her swindge To catch a Parrot in the Woodcocks sprindge Epigram 7. Solus THe land yeelds many Poets were I gone The water sure I durst be sworne had none Epigram 8. Selfe conceit SOme Poets are whose high pitch lofty straines Are past the reach of euery vulgar wight To vnderstand which t will amaze weake braines So mysticall sophisticall they write No maruell others vnderstand them not For they scarce vnderstand themselues I wot Epigram 9. A couple ONe read my booke and said it wanted wit I wonder if he meant himselfe or it Or both if both two fooles were met I troe That wanted wit and euery foole doth soe Epigram 10. Bacchus and Apollo THe thigh-borne bastard of the thrundring Ioue When mens inuentions are of wit most hollow He with his spitefull iuice their sprites doth moue Vnto t' harmonious musicke of Apollo And in a word I would haue al men know it He must drinke wine that meanes to be a Poet. Epigram 11. Of translation I Vnderstand or know no foraigne tongue But their translations I doe much admire Much art much paines much study doth belong And at the least regard should be their hyre But yet I would the French had held togither And kept their pox and not translate them hither Epigram 12. Natures counterfeite WHen Adam was in Paradice first plac'd And with the rule of mortal things was grac'd Then roses pinkes and fragrant gilliflowers Adornd and deck'd forth Edens blessed bowres But now each Gill weares flowres each Punck hath pinks And roses garnish Gallants shooes me thinkes When rugged Winter robs fairy Floraes treasure Puncks can haue pinks and roses at their pleasure Epigram 13. The deuill take bribery A Man atach't for murdring of a man Vnto the for-man of his lury sent Two score angels begging what he can He would his conscience straine law to preuent That his offences Iudge might iudge no further But make man slaughter of his wilfull murther The verduict was manslaughter to the Iudge The Iudge demanded how it could be so The for-man said his conscience much did grudge But forty angels did perswade him no Well quoth the Iudge this case shall murther be If halfe those angels not appeare to me Thus when the law men to confusion driues The godlesse angels will preserue their liues Epigram 14. The deuill is a knaue I Shell dislikes the surplusse and the cope And calls them idle vestments of the Pope And mistresse Maude would goe to Church full faine But that the corner cap makes her refraine And Madam Idle is offended deepe The Preacher speakes so lowde she cannot sleepe Loe thus the deuill sowes contentious seed Whence sects and schismes and heresies doo breed Epigram 15. Kissing goes by fauour BEmbus the Burgomaster liues in paine With the Sciatica and the Cathar Rich Grundo of the dropsie doth complaine And with the Gowte these mizers troubled are If Tinkers Coblers Botchers be infected With Bembus Lamenesse or with Grundoes Gowte Like pocky fellowes they must be reiected And as infectious rascalls be kept out And not come neere where holesome people flocks Thus rich mens sicknesses are poore mens pocks Epigram 16. Deere no Venison PRecilla alwaies cals her husband Deere Belike she bought him at too deere a rate Or else to make the case more plaine appeere Like to a Deere she hath adorn'd his pate If it be so god Vulcan send her luck That she may liue to make her Deere a Buck. Epigram 17. Euerything is pretty when it is little THere is a saying old but not so witty That when a thing is little it is pritty This doating age of ours it finely fits Where many men thought wise haue pretty wies Epigram 18. â—â—â—eâ—ne somewhat ONe ask'd me what my Melancholy meanes I answer'd t was because I wanted meanes He ask'd what I did by my answere meane I told him still my meanes were too too meane He offer'd me to lend me pounds a score I answer'd him I was to much in score He finding me in this crosse answ'ring vaine Left me in want to wish for wealth in vaine Epigram 19. Faith without workes AMmongst the pure reformed Amsterdamers Those faithfull friday feasting capon crammers Onely in them they say true faith doth lurke But t is a lazy faith t will doe no worke O should it worke ther 's many thousand feares T' would set the world together by the eares Epigram 20. Partiallity STrato the Gallant reeles alongst the streete His adle head 's too heauy for his feete What though he sweare and swagger spurne and kick Yet men will say the Gentleman is sick And that t were good to learne where he doth dwell And helpe him home because he is not well Strait staggers by a Porter or a Carman As bumsie as a fox'd flapdragon German And though the Gentlemans disease and theirs Are parted onely with a paire
of sheares Yet they are drunken knaues and must to 'th stocks And there endure a world of flouts and mocks Thus when braue Strato's wits with wine are shrunk The same disease wil make a begger drunk Epigram 21. A keeper of honesty DEliro should of honesty be full And store of wisdome surely is within him What though he dally with a painted trull And she to folly daily seemes to win him Yet in him sure is honesty good store He vtters but his knauerie with a whore For he that spends too free shall surely want Whilst he that spares will liue in wealthy state So wit and honesty with such are scant Who part with it at euery idle rate But men must needs haue honesty and wit That like Deliro neuer vtter it Epigram 22. All 's one but on 's not all TO wonder and admire is all one thing If as Sinonymies the words be tooke But if a double meaning from them spring For double sence your Iudgement then must looke As once a man all soild with durt and mire Fell downe and wonder'd not but did admire Epigram 23. Mistresse fine bones FIne Rarnell wonderfully likes her choyce In hauing got a husband so compleat Whose shape and minde doth wholy her reioyce At bed board and abroad he 's alwaies neate Neate can he talke and feed and neatly tread Neate are his feete but most neat is his head Epigram 24. A supposed Construction MAry and Mare Anagramatiz'd The one is Armye and the other Arme In both their names is danger Moraliz'd And both alike doth sometimes good or harme Mare 's the sea and Mare 's Arme 's a riuer And Marye's Armye 's all for whatl'ye giue her Epigram 25. Death is a Iuggler A Rich man sicke would needs goe make his will And in the same he doth command and will One hundred pound vnto his man cald Will Because he alwaies seru'd him with good will But al these wills did prooue to Will but vaine His master liues and hath his health againe Epigram 26. Mistresse Grace onely by name GRace gracelesse why art thou vngratious Grace Why dost thou run so lewdely in the race The cause wherefore thy goodnesse is so scant Is cause what most thou hast thou most dost want Epigram 27. Prudence T Is strange that Prudence should be wild and rude Whose very name doth Modesty include The reason is for ought that I can see Her name and nature doth not well agree Epigram 28. Mercy MY Mercie hates me what 's the cause I pray T is cause I haue no money shee doth say O cruell Mercy now I plainely see Without a see no mercy comes from thee Yet in conclusion euery idle gull Perceiues Mercy is vnmercifull Epigram 29. Faith O Faith thou alwaies vnbeleeuing art Faith in thy name and faithlesse in thy hart Thou credidst all but what is true and good In vertue rude in vice well vnderstood Epigram 30. Vpon my selfe MY selfe I liken to an vntun'de Viol For Like a Viol I am in a Case And who so of my fortunes makes a triall Shall like to me be strung and tuned base And Treables Troubles he shall neuer want But here 's the Periode of my mischiefes All Thogh Base and Trebles fortune did me grant And Meanes but yet alas they are too small Yet to make vp the Munck I must looke The Tenor in the cursed Counter booke Epigram 31. A Rope for Parrat WHy doth the Parrat cry a Rope a rope Because he 's cagde in prison out of hope Why doth the Parrat call a Boate a Boate It is the humor of his idle note O prety Pall take heede beware the Cat Let Watermen alone no more of that Since I so idly heard the Parrat talke In his owne language I say walke knaue walke Epigram 32 Constants INconstant Constants albewitching feature Hath made faire Constance an inconstant Creature Her Godmother was very much to blame To giue Inconstancy a constant name But was a woman nam'de her so contrary And womens tongues and hearts doe euer varie Epigram 33 Vpon the burning of the Globe ASpiring Phaeton with pride inspirde Misguiding Phaebus Carre the world the firde But Ouid did with fiction serue his turne And I in action sawe the Globe to burne Epigram 34. Late Repentance A Greedy wretch did on the Scriptures looke And found recorded in that Sacred booke How such a man with God should sure preuaile Who clad the naked and visit those in Iaile And then he found how he had long mistak'd And oftentimes had made the cloathed nak'd In steed of visiting th' opprest in mones He had consum'd them to the very bones Yet one day he at leasure would Repent But sudden death Repentance did preuent Epigram 35. Not so strange as true THe stately Stagge when he his hornes hath shedde In sullen sadnesse he deplores his losse But when a wife cornutes her husbands head His gaines in hornes he holdes an extreame Crosse. The Stagge by loasing doth his losse complaine The man by gaining doth lament his gaine Thus whether hornes be either lost or found They both the loser and the winner wounde Epigram 36. A Wordmonger MAns Vnderstanding's so obnubilate That when thereon I doe excogitate Intrinsicall and querimonious paines Doth puluerise the concaue of my braines That I could wish man were vnfabricate His faults he doth so much exaggerate Epigram 37. Plaine dunstable YOur words passe my capatchity good zur But ich to proue neede neuer to goe vur Cha knowne men liue in honest exclamation Who now God wot liues in a worser fashion The poor man grumbles at the rich mans store And rich men daily doe expresse the poore Epigram 38. Reason KNowest thou a Traitor plotting damned Treason Reueale him t is both loialty and Reason Knowest thou a thiefe will steale at any season To shunne his company thou hast good reason Seest thou a villaine hang vp by the weason He hangs by reason that he wanted reason Good men are scarse and honest men are geason To loue them therefore t is both right and reason Mere I could say but all 's not worth two peason And therefore to conclude I hold it reason Epigram 39. Out of the pan into the fire TOm sencelesse to the death doth hate a play But yet hee le play the drunkard euery day He railes at plaies and yet doth ten times worse He 'le dice he 'le bowle he 'le whore he 'le sweare he 'le curse When for one two pence if this humor please He might go see a play and scape all these But t is mans vse in these pestiferous times To hate the least and loue the greatest crimes Epigram 40. A Poets similitude A Poet Rightly may be tearmed fit An abstract or Epitomy of wit Or like a Lute that others pleasures breed Is fret and strung their curious eares to feed That scornefully distast it yet t is knowne It makes the hearers sport but in selfe none A Poet 's like a
the tabor Shall man I pray so witlesse be besotted Shall men like beasts no wisdome be allotted Without great studie with instinct of Nature Why then were man the worst and basest creature But men are made the other creatures Kings Because superiour wisdome from them springs And therefore Momus vnto thee againe That dost suspect the issue of my braine Are but my bastards now my Muse doth flie And in thy throat giues thy suspect the lie And to the triall dares thee when thou dar'st Accounting thee a coward if thou spar'st I haue a little wit and braine and spleane And gall and memory and mirth and teene And passions and affections of the minde As other Mortals vse to be enclinde And hauing all this wherefore should men doubt My wit should be so Cripled with the Gout That it must haue assistance to compile Like a lame dogge that 's limping ore a stile No no thou Zoylus thou detracting else Though thou art insufficient in thy selfe And hast thy wit and studies in reuersion Cast not on me that scandalous aspersion I hate such belladmongring riming slaues Such iygging rascals such audacious knaues The bane of learning the abuse of Arts The scumme of Naturs worst defectiue parts The scorne of schollers poison of rewards Regardlesse vassalles of true worths regard The shame of time the canker of desarts The dearth of liberall and heroicke harts That like so many bandogs snatle and snatch And all 's their owne they can from others caâ—th That licke the scraps of Schollers wits like dogges A Prouerb old draffs good enough for hogges Purloining line by line and peece by peece And from each place they read will filch a fleece Me thinks my Muse should peecemeale teare these roages More base and vile then tatter'd Irish broages Clawkissing raskals flattering Parasites Sworne vices vassalles vertues opposites T is you dambde curres haue murderd liberall minds And made best Poets worse esteem'd then hindes But wherefore doe I take a Schollers part That haue no grounds or Axioms of Art That am in Poesie an artlesse creature That haue no learning but the booke of Nature No Academicall Poetike straines But homespunne medley of my mottley braines The reason I a Schollers wants bewaile And why against base litter'd whelps I raile Is this that they long time should time bestow In painefull study secret Arts to know And after liue in want contempt and scorne By euery dunghill peasant ouerborne Abus'd rejected doggedly disgrac'd Despised ragged lowsie and out fac'd Whilest Bagpipe-poets stuf with others winde Are grac'd for wit they haue from them purloinde Now in mine owne defence once more I le say Their too rash iudgements to much runnes astray That cause my name is Tailor I doe theeue it I hope their wisdomes will no more beleeue it Nor let my want of learning be the cause I should be bitten with blacke enuies iawes For whosoere by nature is not a Poet By rules of Art he neuer well can show it Ther'i 's many a wealthy heire long time at Schoole Doth spend much study and comes home a foole A Poet needes must be a Poet borne Or else his Art procures his greater scorne For why if Art alone made men excell Me thinkes Tom Coriat should write exlent well But he was borne be like in some crosse yeere When learning was good cheape but wit was deare Then to conclude as I before began Though nought by Schollership or Art I can Yet if my stocke by nature were more bare I scorne to vtter stolne or borrowed ware And therefore Reader now I tell thee plaine If thou incredilous dost still remaine If yea or nay these reasons doe perswade thee I leaue thee and thy faith to him that made thee To the Kings most excellent Maiestie Anagramma Iames Stuart MUSES TARY AY GReat Soueraigne as thy sacred Royall breast Is by the Muses whole and sole possest So doe I know Rich precious peerelesse Iem In witting vnto thee I write to them The Muses tarry at thy name why so Because they haue no further for to goe To the high and mighty Prince Charles Stuart Anagramma Cals true hearts BRaue Prince thy Name thy fame thy selfe and all With loue and seruice all true hearts doth call So Roially indude with Princely parts Thy Reall vertues alwaies cals true heart To Anna Queene of Great Britaine THese backward and these forward lines I send To your right Royall high Maiesticke hand And like the guilty prisoner I attend Your censure wherein blisse or bale doth stand If I condemned be I cannot grudge For neuer Poet had a iuster Iudge These lines are to be read the same backeward as they are forward Deer Maddam Reed Deem if I meed Loues laborinth with the description of the seuen Plannets I Trauel'd through a wildernesse of late A shadie darke vnhaunted desart groue Whereas a wretch explain'd his piteous state Whose mones the Tygers vnto Ruthe would moue Yet though he was a man cast downe by Fate Full manly with his miseries he stroue And dar'd false Fortune to her vtmost worst And er'e he meant to bend would brauely burst Yet swelling griefe so much or'e charg'd his heart In scalding sighs he needs must vent his woe Where groanes and teares and sighs all beare a part As partners in their masters ouerthroe Yet spight of griefe he laught to scorne his smart And midst his deapth of care demean'd him so As if sweet concord bore the greatest sway And snarling discord was inforc'd t' obay Thou Saint quoth he I whilome did adore Thinke not thy youthfull feature still can last In winters age thou shalt in vaine deplore That thou on me such coy disdaine didst cast Then then remember old said sawes of yore Time was Time is but then thy Time is past And in the end thy bitter torments be Because that causelesse thou tormentâ—â—â—â—â— me Oh you immortall high Imperious powres Haue you in your resistlesse â—â—â—â—â—es decreed To blast with spight and scorne my pleasant hou'res To starue my hopes and my dispaire to feed Once more let me attaine those sunshine showers Whereby my withered ioyes againe may breed If Gods no comfort to my cares apply My comfort is I know the way to die With wits destracted here I make my will I do bequeath to Saturne all my sadnesse When Mellancholy first my heart did fill My sences turne from sobernesse to madnesse Since Saturne thou wast Author of my ill To giue me griefe and take away my gladnesse Malignant Plannet what thou gau'st to me I giue againe as good a guift to thee I doe surrender back to thundring Ioue All state which earst my glory did adorne My frothy pompe and my ambitious loue To thee false Iupiter I backe returne All Iouiall thoghts that first my heart did mooue In thy Maiestick braine was bred and borne Which by thy inspiration caus'd my wrack And therefore vnto thee I giue it backe To Mars I giue my
rough robustious rage My anger fury and my scarlet wrath Man-slaughtring murder is thy onely page Which to thy bloudy guidance I bequeath Thy seruants all from death should haue their wage For they are executioners for death Great Mars all furie wrath and rage of mine I freely offer to thy Goarye shrine All seeing Sol thy bright reflecting eye Did first with Poets Art inspire my braines T is thou that me so much didst dignifie To rap my soule with sweet Poetike straines And vnto thee againe before I die I giue againe a Poets gainelesse gaines Though wit and art are blessings most diuine Yet here their iemmes amongst a heard of swine To thee false goddesse loues adultrous Queene My most inconstant thoughts I do surrender For thou alone alone hast euer beene True louers bane yet seemest loues defender And were thy bastard blind as fooles do weene So right he had not split my heart so tender Fond Vulcans bride thou turnest my ioy to paine Which vnto thee I render backe againe To Mercury I giue my sharking shifts My two fold false equiuocating tricks All cunning sleights and close deceiuing drifts Which to decitfull wrong my humour pricks All my Buzeaka's my Decoyes and lifts No birdlime henceforth to my fingers sticks My thoughts my words my actions that are bad To thee I giue for them from thee I had And last and low'st of all these Plannets seuen My wau'ring thoughts I giue to Luna ' es guiding My sencelesse braines of wit and sence bereauen My stedfast change and my most certaine sliding All various alterations vnder heauen All that is mine ore mouing or abyding My woes my ioyes my mourning and my mirth I giue to thee from whence they had their birth Thus he against the higher powers contends And threats and bans and beats his care crazd breast The birds harmonious musicke to him lends Which addes no rest vnto his restlesse rest Yea eu'ry thing in louing sort attends All senceable and sencelesse doe their best With helplesse helpes do helpe to mone his mone And her he loues Remaines vnkind alone At last he rose from out the place he lay And frantikely ran woodlie through the wood The scratching brambles in his wailes waie Intreats him stay but in a harebraind mood He fled till weary he at last did stay To rest him where a ragged rock there stood With resolution to despaire and die Whilst Eccho to his mones did thus replie Eccho May humane mischiefes be compar'd with mine mine Thine babling Eccho would thy tongue told true rue I rue that I alone must weepe and pine pine I pine for her from whom my cares ensue sue I sue I serue a marble hearted faire ayre And ayre is all the fruit of fruitlesse loue loue Lou's hope is past then welcome black despaire despaire Shall there despaire my causelesse curse remoue moue Oh whither shall I moue to ioy or paine paine Must paine be my reward for paine for aye aye Aye must my torment feed her scornfull veine vaine To ease my griefe will she say yea or nay nay Nay then from loue and all his lawes I flie flie I flie I search I seeke the way to die die Thus brabling gainst all things he heares or sees Impatient as his froward fortunes wrongs No sensu'all obiect with his sence agrees All pleasures his displeasure more prolongs At length he carues vpon the thick bark'd trees These vnder written sad lamenting songs And as my weake inuention vnderstood His farewell thus was grau'd vpon the wood Sonnet LIke a decrepit wretch deform'd and lame My verse approaches to my dearest Dame Whose dire disdaine makes my laments her game Whose scornfull eies addes fuell to my flame But whether shee or I are most too blame I for attempting to exalt her fame With fruitlesse Sonnets which my wit did frame Or shee whose peircing lookes my heart ore ' came Her feature can both men and monsters tame The gods and fiends adore and dread her name Whose matchlesse forme doth Citherea shame Whose cruell heart remaineth still the same And in a word I striue against the streame My state ' is to low and hers is too supreame Then since so scornefull is her high disdaine Since all my loue is but bestow'd in vaine Curbe fancie then with true discretions Reine Let reason cure my tor-tormenting paine Suppose I should at last my suit attaine And then sit downe and count my losing gaine My haruest would be tares in shee l of graine Then I le no longer vexe my vexed braine To seeke her loue who ioyes when I complaine No longer I loues vassell will remaine I le be no more of Cupids witlesse traine Whose partiall blindnesse hath so many slaine Proud Dame whose breast my loue didst earst refraine Despight loues lawes I le be no more thy swaine Thus like a man whose answere 〈◊〉 â—erest him I found him mad with loue and so I left him Plutoes Proclamation concerning his Infernall pleasure for the Propagation of Tobacco TRue Newes and strange my Muse intends to write From horrid concaues of eternall night Whereas a damned Parliment of Deuils Enacted lawes to fill the world with euils Blacke Pluto sundry proclamations sends Through Barathrum and summons all the fiends To know how they on earth had spent their times And how they had beclog'd the world with crimes First spake an ancient Deuill ycleaped Pride Who said he wandred had both farre and wide Dispersing his Ambitious poisnous bane As farre as Luna doth both waxe or wane Next summond was a rakehell furgound curre Cal'd Auarice whose rotten haulking murre Was like to choake him ere he could declare How he had soules possest with monies care That so they fill their Coffers to the brim All 's one let sweet saluation sinke or swimme The third that to the Parlament came in Was murder all inroab'de in scarlet sinne Who told great Limboes monarch he had done Such deeds as thousand soules to hell hath wonne The fourth that entred to this damned Iurie Was sweet sinne Leachery a smugfac'd furie Said that the world should his great paines approue Where vniuersall lust is counted loue The fift was an ilshap'd decrepit Crone Cald Enuy all consum'd to skinne and bone And shee declar'd what labour he had spent To Honours and to Vertues detriment Then sixt did Burst-gut Gluttony appeere Whose sole delight is all in belly cheere Who told how he mens greedy mindes did serue To cram their bodies whilst their soules did sterue The seuenth was Sloth an vgly lothsome wretch Who being cald did gape and yawne and stretch I haue quoth he done as your highnesse wil'd I all the world with Idlenesse haue fil'd In lazie Creatures members I doe lurke That thousands will be hang'd before the 'ile worke Then Pluto said these ills you haue done well In propagation of our kingdome Hell But yet ther 's one thing which I will effect Which too long hath been buried with neglect