do goe Feared and muche addrad of theues and losels loose of lyfe Not fearde of those that pilfer not nor broche no brabling stryfe Admit thou warte a naughtie packe as dyuers other be I am not one that doth promote why arte thou frayde of me My verses geue no gase from walls ne yet in tauernes flye Not â—â—gille nor such alecunners my woorkes do ouerprye I shew them but to veray frendes and at their greate requeste Not to eche hobb nor euery where sum be that thincke it beste Their quaynte deuyses to proclame in market fayre and marte To reade them graue sounde them braue and to vnfoulde their arte Such pleasure haue pryde practisers who do it not to mende Nor learne a decencie in thinges for no such honest ende A malliperte a merchaunte I of mallyce thou wilte say I vse this talke whence issude this gainste me that thou doste lay Or which of my companions hath this instilde to the Who pincheth at his frende not preste or if he burdned be Doth not alleuyate his blame who scoffes to make men smyle Who plyes for to be plausible and doth his flowtinge file Who can inuente things neuer mente who nothynge can conceale Such one is naughtes beware of him and naughte to him reueale Sumtymes at table thou shalte see a dosen more or lesse Eche séekynge eche ort wharte the thums with tauntes and tearmes to dresse Their hoste they spare for manner sake till Bacchus tyde be vp Then out muste all mine hoste myne hoste is scande at euery cup. Rayling thou hates yet doste thou coumpte raylers but mery men Good felowes francke and free of speache If I haue iested then A Rufills taste Gorgonies smell two paragons of pryde I am no freatinge ghoste therfore nor slaundrouse all things tryde If chaunce we talke of Petills pranckes how he from tower stole A massye péece of bullion golde to twyne thy tale in hole Thou shapes it thus as is thy trade Petille I know him well I haue sum cause to speake for him for he and I did dwell Of childerne little in one house my fellow and my frende Much hath he done for me at tymes I founde him euer kynde And yet I maruayle how he coulde rub out this trespasse so Lo here a craftye postles parte loe here a Logille lo Ha false malignaunte wreaking minde this vyce I do expell As cancre freate from hearte and booke moste true it is I tell For certaintie I lyke it not then lycence me the more To gesse aloufe not hard to scratche but clawe about the sore My father he did vsuallie dehorte me from this sin By manifolde examples which through talke he woulde bringe in Still warning me not to ingrate nor séeke not much to lyue But thryftylie contentedly enioye that he would geue Maiste thou not see younge Alba now how he is cumde to naughte Backbyting Bar most beggeâ—like â–ª Ingrayle them in thy thoughte Two presidents that thou ne shouldste thy fathers good mispende But when he woulde dehorte from loue his talke was to this ende Dissemblable to Sectans sorte no brothelmonger be Kepe wedlocke chaste let Trebons name be warninge vnto thee The wyse men with their moralls sage by reason coulde the guide Suffyseth me that I can geue such counsayle as I tryde And if my sawes in time take place for teacher haste thou none When groweth and yeares shall make the man youthes shipwracke will be gone Thus woulde he turne my plyant youth and what he wilde in worde For patterne he woulde bid me marke the lyfe of sum good Lorde So if he woulde inhibit me this is no godly déede My sonne sayth he and here vppon sum foule reporte will breede For euen like as when neighbours dye the sickmans chaunging luste For feare doth stay and is contente to cum to dyet iuste So skillesse youth to see defame of others may take héede And slip not into vyces snare nor listen to her réede Hereby I stayed my tempting age and did no haynouse sin In easye crymes and veniall I haue bene trapped in And these no doubte wil wayne awaye and ebb as they did ryse By helpe of yeares by frendes reproofe and by myne owne aduyce As I lye in my bed sumtymes on matters thus I muse Thrifte would do thus righte doth diswade that I shoulde thus me vse Thus coulde I make my chearfull frendes this was a foolishe parte Was I so fondlye ouerseene a foole sone flings his darte Thus do I mutter in my mynde Ere whyle at cardes I play A faulte amongste the meaner faultes forgeue me Thou saieste nay Then Poets all preas on preas on helpe at a pinche no dreede We be so ryotouse a route who sayes but we shall spéede As Iewes do measure all by myghte that none dare them forsake So we by number will men force in league with vs to take ⧠THE FIFTE SATIRE whiche the Poet had written of his iorneying to and fro wholye altered by the translator FRende Horace thoughe you maye me vse as to translate your verse Yet your exployte I do refues at this tyme â—o reherse Not euery tricke nor euery toye that floweth from your braine Are incident into my pâ—n nor worthie of my paine If all be true that sum surmyse for dyuers thincke it good To haue discriude the clatteringe broyles of Mauors raging wood Or for to know the climats hye to clym vnto the skyes To view the starres their placing éeke and how they set and ryse Or for to reade the quiddityes and queerks of logique darke To heare the babblinge sophisters how they for naughte can barke Or for to wryte things naturall thinges misticall and geason The harmonie of elements how they accorde by reason To sterte vp in astrologie the casuals of men To limit and forlote by arte to shew by whom and when Thinges were conueyde and to erecte through what aspecte and why Pompey abroad Cesar at home were fortuned to dye To tell how man a creature of reasonable mynde Is sociable apte and fitt to companie by kynde To read the sacred histories of man how he began How firste he fâ—ll through whome he fell what of him selfe he can To learne the helpes of holye tongue the doctors to peruse To course the schoolmen as they â—ye and Horace to refuse Those cacklinge pyes that vse to prate so much againste humanytye Are commonly the lewdest dawes and skillesse in diuinitie The antique fathers vsde it much thapostle doth the same Now all muste downe in pullinge downe that fooles may get a name Som innouation must be made or chaunge of vsed things Needes muste there be when all woulde passe and all woulde needes be kynges Moyses in writinge his fyue bookes confearde with prophane tyme Yet fewe or none that I haue harde appeached him of cryme From Egipte we may borow stil it neuer was forbed So it be for the weale of man and glory of our God To
geue me leaue my mynde to him to say Câ—ntente quod I you may be boulde to worke your will for me My troublesum companion arested then I see Both partyes crye the croude growes greatâ— throughe greate Appollos grace It was my lucke for to escape so comberouse a case ⧠SOME HAD EVIL SPOKEN of Horace for reprehendynge Luâ—ille He protesteth that he by no meanes meaneth to desame the person but to haue his or their doinges bettred Pretye other conceits and notes of versefyinge The tenthe Satyre FOrsoth I sayd Lusill I sayde your verses run not rounde Doth any loue Lusill so well to praise his Iarringe sounde But he through ticklinge vp the towne with mirth hath wun a name And yet this doth not proue him lernde though I shoulde graunte the same So mighte our minstrell Laberie be coumpted learned then If merye mirthe and onlye mirthe coulde make a learned man To make the reâ—der laughe a pace is not a Poets parte I meane not all though therein be a prety peece of arte He muste be quicâ— to make his pause and sentence fall in time â—ls traâ—ing longe to weryed eares will make a lothesum ryme His treatice interchaungeable now merye and now sad In Poets puffe and now againe in Retorique florishe clad Sumtimes a fable trymlye toulde doth worke in better force Then if the plaintife Poet shoulde besing his musies horce Sumtime to spare his eloquence and speake not what he can Such were the auncient interludes so were they lyked than And so farre to be imitate but neyther Hermogen Nor other who woulde seeme to be so gay deuysinge men Did euer reade I dare make good those lettred Poets woorkes Saue Cafull and Caluus wheras such paltrye baggage lurkes Tush now I glaunce and blame amiâ— for Lusill hath deuised A tricksye woorke in Lattin coate and greakishe gardes comprysed An auntrus â—â—e I promise you O thou that knowes not muche â–ª Cease to admire a man for that the matter is not suche As it is thoughte to sprincle here and there a worde of gréeke Sum aâ—â—ehead doultes in baggish style of gréeke are not to séeke Excepte thou thincke that diuerse tongues are better when they méete Aâ— mixed wynes what els become more wholsome and pure swete Well in thy verse vse Greke at wyll beware that when at barre Thou pleadest for thy clyent there thou goest not ouerfarre I meane as yf some passyng man shoulde stande in plea thy foe And sweate agayne to grauayle thee and worke thy clyent woo Use not thy two tongude phrases then lyke one of Canues towne Thou mayst perchaunce become nonesuite thou and thy cause borne downe Once on a tyme a Greke poeme I dreamed to indite A Romayne I disioynde by sea vnured so to write Lorde Romulus dyd byd me stinte in pitchye silent nyght At mydnyght when suche vysions are coumpted moste of myght In grekyshe tongue sayeth he to write write vpon writyng styll Is as to powre on fatted sowe more draffe drynke and more swill Therfore whylst Alphin shriketh out the murdred Memnons bayne And reigne descriues I leauyng Greke am of my Satyre fayne Whiche neyther shall in Guyld hall once be iudged of the Mayre Nor fede the eye on stately stage to make a meyny stare Fundanus may at his good luste of nyncetie fynceties wryte I say of harlots heâ—â—full guyle of Dauâ—s what a spyte He wrought to Chremes by his crafte That facultie therfore I leaue to hym as capitayne in scoffyng comyke lore And Polleo the princely iestes in loftie Iambiques maye By vertue of that gracious verse in tragike wyse displaye So â—arie makes his Elegies of quicke and lyuely myght And Uirgile well in rurall ryme His gamesome â—use can dight A Satyre I more sauerly and with more lucke attempted That Uarro and a number suche all arrogance exempted I doo not say before my tyme But Lusille dyd deuyse Nor euer ment to preiudice his crowne in any wyse But nowe and then outtakyngly he wyll be ouerseene And bryng suche stuffe wherof the mostâ— omitted myght haue bene I pray you Lusille saye me soothe nor be you not offended Hath not your wysedome sayd or now that Homer myght be mended And hath not ioly Lusill to the dolefull Actie chaunged And for to carâ—e hym for his phrase all ouer Ennie raunged Yet when he speaketh of hymselfe He speakes not as he were A better â—larke then those he blamde Why maye not we inquyre In waye of talke yf his harde style a matter good hath marde Or if the matter to vntoward hath made his style to harde If that a man thynke it enough and for a poet mete Twixt meale meale two hundreâ—h rimes to reare vp on their fete Lyke Casse whose lauyshe eloquence was rushyng as the streames Therfore were burnt his corps his bokes his hastye trauaylde dreames If this be good Lusill is good in suche respecte may he Of pleasant head and depe deuice and clarkly iudgement be He may be thought to haue enritchde Greace with his Satyre verse Muche better then an elder sorte whiche I coulde nowe rehearse Kyght happye Lusill that dydst see so plausible a tyme If he had ben in these our dayes he muste haue razde his ryme And parde of all that was not trym and so haue bent his brayne That bothe he should haue scratchde his headâ— and bitte his thombes for payne For nowe who lookes to beare the bell his doyngs he muste cull At home with â—ym and better adde then he dyd erste out pull Contented to haue pleasde the wyse lette go the skyllesse hobbes Who woulde esteme the clappyng of a flocke of luskyshe lobbes Not I in soothe the iudgement of one worthy personage In learnyng rype in vertue iuste in verdite sharpe and sage Geue me before a thousande lowâ—es and all their lowde suffrage Tygille he kepes a prattlynge stylle his pages doo me pynche Prate what they can the worste they can I mynde not once to wynche Suche carelesse brainlesse senslesse shrubbs suche sucklyng maultwormes who Dothe take their woordes but as of course and so can lette them go The lorde Mecenas and Uirgill Plotie and Uarius Ualgie and our drad soueraigne the great Oâ—auius And Polleâ— I fawne not nowe not flatter thankes to pyke Fuscus and eke the Uiscie bothe I woulde they should me lyke Thou Messala thy brother to You Bubilie also You Seruie and thou Furnius bothe you and suche lyke mo Frendly and learnde whiche nowe for hast vnnamed I lette go Your praise I saye fayne would I haue full sorie and full sad If I ne can fulfyll the hope whiche of my selfe I had Sir Tygill and syr Demetrie Your dumpishe domes in schooles You may bestowe where as you lyste emongst your flocke of fooles As for the wyse they wynke at them nor will not on them looke Go boy go note these sayinges well and put them
vnfallible trouth the Greke and Latine Poetes write forgeries leasyngs The Prophetes necessary to be vnderstanded the other because of those not clerely to be neglected That thou mightest haue this ruful parcel of scripture pure sincere not swarued or altered I laid it to the touchestone the natiue tongue I waied it with the Chaldic Targum the Septuaginta I desired to iumpe so nigh with the Hebrue y â— it doth ere while deforme the vayn of the english the proprieties of that language ours being in some speches so muche dissemblable There is one God but one out of whose breast doth procede the spirite worde of efficacie effect Thus muche I say because thou sholdest not attribute the sharpe showers of calamities sent downe for syn vpon Ierusalem wherin God would haue betraied the prerogatiue of his maiestie and power to the aukward aspects of planets and infortunate constellations nor to the vnsteady and muche accused whele of chaungeable Fortune His hande that hath destroyed the greater can easily confound the lesse And he that woulde not take compassion of greate cities plentifully peopled because of theyr transgression will in suche case hardly beare with priuate men I thought it my parte to sette it open to thyne eyes and I suppose it behouable to thee or at lest it shall not hurt thee to laye it to thy heart Fare well ☞ The fyrste Chapter HOwe sytts the Citie desolate so populous a place The ladye of so many landes Becumde in wydowes case The Princes of the prouinces her tribute nowe muste paye Full sore wepte she full sore wepte she all nyght her longe decaye Alongst her cheekes the furrowyng teares from watrishe eyes dyd rayne Of all her louers nowe not one to comforte her in payne Her frendes thynke muche to visite her her frendes are turnde to foes â—choudah captiue ledde away a captiue for the woes And slauerie she brought men to she takes no kynde of reste Mongste pagans where she makes her bode with foes she is oppreste The stretes of Syon mourne and wayle Because there nowe is none That cums and goes to see their feast as heretofore haue gone The gates deuoyde of folke the priestes doo sygh in sorowes keene The damsels drent in moyste of teares the dame her selfe in teene Her enemies rule and who but they in wealthe surcreasyng faste The Lorde hathe shente her greuouslye for heapes of lewdnes paste Theyr younge wente captiuate before her muche dysdaynfull foe From chylde of Tsyon all her grace and noble hue dydde goe The Potentates lyke strayinge rambes not fyndyng where to feede Without all courage went with those that dyd them dryue or leede Hierusalem bethought her selfe vpon the dismall daye Of scourge and of her rebell heart of all delytefull gay Thynges whiche she had in alder age what tyme her folkes so coy Fell into foyshe hande and none woulde succour their annoy Her enmies hauyng throughly seene and noted her at will Dyd scorne her sacred sabboth day and gyggle out theyr fyll Ierusalem outragingly was dedicate to vyce Therefore is she a mockynge stocke all those in aufull guyse That honourde her and dyd to her theyr homage heretofore Doo clepe her as a fylthy drabbe and sette by her no more What shoulde she doo she gaue a sighe and lookde askaunce awrye Polluted foule within her skirtes Her ende she woulde not eye And therfore lushed downe at once All comfortlesse was she Rue O lorde rue vppon my panges the foe is prowde at me The foe hath stretched foorthe his arme at all her thynges of pleasure She sawe she sawe the prophane route rushe in without all measure Unto thy sacred holy house that route whiche thou O Lorde Forboddste that they ne shoulde come in the mansion of thy worde Her numbrous folke a syghyng flocke and seekyng after foode Dyd geue for meate what so they had thynges precious or good To cheryshe theyr so needie sowles Marke Lorde and weye on this Howe vile I am howe beggerly My caytife plight it is O all wayfaryng passengers for Gods loue locke and see If euer griefe were lyke my grefe for he hath scourged me The Lorde I say hathe spoke the worde in daye of furye fell From hye he flonge the fyre adowne my mortall bones to quell It tamed me Before my feete a trappynge nette he layde And turnde me backe to captiue yoke He he alacke hath made Me desolate in gulfes of grefes all day longe dydde I wade My heynous synnes my swarming crimes to Gods dyre hande are tyde And thence amayne vppon my necke from tyme to tyme dyd glyde Empired I The Lorde hath put me in suche straynyng clawes That neuer shall I wrinche me from the pressyng of their pawes My woorthies and my valiantes he trode them vnder feete Within my selfe agaynst my selfe he made assembles meete To slay my youthe was neuer yet Wynepresse bestamped so On one virgin Iehoudahs chylde the Lorde hath stamped lo. Therefore wepe I and from myne eye as from a water spoute A flowyng streame of gushyng teares eftsoones doothe issue out My comforter he kepte aloofe that shoulde my sowle relieue My broode berefte of hope and those preuaylde that dyd me greue Ofte proferde Tsyon foorthe her hande but none woulde healpe her tho Great Iacobs rase the Lorde had plasde amydde her enemies so Ierusalem mydst all her foes is lyke a drabbishe queane Foule steynd with fylth of mouthly floures a strompet muche vncleane The Lorde is iuste disloyall I haue forsde hym vnto ire Hearken O worlde hearken all worldes once harke at my desyre And viewe and viewe my thyrlyng throwes what plunges me assaye My virgins and my yonge men eeke are captiues gone away I calde my louers one by one but they begyled me My priestes and elders in the towne throughe famyne peryshde be For foode to theyr forefainted soules longe soughte they farre and neare See Lorde and see because that I am troubled in eche where Myne intrayles swollne my hearte yturnde suche is my strugglynge paine The swoorde denoures abrode our home a slaughter house of bayne Full well knewe they howe sadde I was but none woulde solace me My foes pursewde my harmes and ioyde to see them sente from the. But as for sinne thou broughste on me a wreakefull vengaunce day Deale iustlye Lordeâ— and as to me to them their guardon paye Surueye their mischeefes all in mynde and deale with them as sore As thou haste dealte with me pore wretche for trespasse here to sore They made the surgyes of my sighes to multiplie eche daye They made my heart a well of woes wearyng it selfe away ¶ The seconde Chapter HOwe hath the Lord in furie fell beduskde his daughter dere Tsyon his chylde of Israell The glory bryght and cleare From heauen to earthe translated lyes and in his vengefull day To batter downe his owne footestole the irefull would not stay He flung it headlonge neyther
sparde Iacobs fayre blasyng bowers So shoke he downe of Iudas chylde her fortresses and towers Through glowyng furye to the soyle the kyngdome he prophainde And wreakde for state the royall wyghtes that ouer it had raignde What so was in all Israell of passynge price and grace He marde it quite turnyng his hande backe from the enmies face He kyndled vp in Iacobs sonns a wastefull flashe of fyre Which consumde all thynges rounde about as it were in a gyre He bent his bowe in foyshe guyse and further lyke a foe He stretchde his arme what so was fayre or of muche beautie lo In tabernacle of Tsyon he dyd it all deuoure And stockmeale lykeâ— to many flames his wrathes he dyd out powre The Lorde hymselfe was nowe a foe he flonge great Iacob downe Flung strong wals down huge raÌ„pirs down and bulwarkes of the towne Fylde Syon full of heartie griefe appallynge all her ioye His tente as it a gardeyne were tramplynge he dyd destroye He stroyde his folke he rasde theyr feastes and sabbothes out of mynde In Tsyon To their kynges and priestes through Ire he is vnkynde The Lorde hath lefte his altar and hath cursde whiche ones he bleste He gaue vnto the enmies handes suche houldes as were the beste The prophane flocke within Gods house in mockerye dyd crye As in theyr sacred Sabboth once thelecte dydde synge on hye Resolude was he to thwacke downe walles to euen theim with the flore And not to turne his hande from waste theyr rampyre mournde therfore The battred wall prostrate dyd fall flatte leuelde to the grounde The earthe supte vp the gorgious gates their yron barres so sounde He knapte in twayne mongste Heathens are her Kynges and puissant peares The lawe is not the Prophetes nowe from Goddes mouthe nothynge heares Fayre Tsyons elders in the lande sytte downe in silence deepe Theyr heade yrubde with ashes pale theyr corps styll dydde they kepe In sacke clothe wrapte Hierusalem thy virgins freshe and fayre Doo hange theyr heades with poutynge lookes as caste away with care My streamyng eyes dissolue to naught my belchyng bowels rumble My lyuer pyckte vp through great force tremblyng on grounde dyd tumble Suche was my pitie towardes myne because my babes dyd faynt And sucklynges tawmed in the streetes through pyne dyd them attaynt Ofte cryed they to theyr mothers sadde where is theyr wyne or breade Lyke wounded wightes throughout the streetes they sounded in eche stede Unbodyinge theyr sely soules vppon theyr mothers lappes What should I name to what should I resemble thy myshappes O daughter of Hierusalem what myght I beste compare To thee O myne O Tsyons chylde to mitigate thy care Lyke droppes in hougie tomblyng waues thy flockynge troubles greue the. Ai me myne owne good gyrle dere God who shall releue thee False prophetes blearde thyn eies with lies who woulde not playnly tell Thy synnes to thee to penitence that they myght thee compell They scanned theyr lewde prophecies and reasons false woulde geue Why thou shouldste draw in captiue yoke and longe in bondage lyue At the chylde of Hierusalem all those that passed by Dyd clap theyr handes and nod their heades and fauntyngly say Why Is this the towne so perfecte buylt the Paragon of hewe The ioye of all the worlde so wyde that gaue the gladsome shewe Gaynst the all foes dyd ope theyr mouthes with vyle reproches fraight And hyssde and gnashde and cryed marche on Lette vs deuoure her straight This is the daye the wyshed daye we haue her found and sene The lorde hath done what in his minde of longe tyme erste hath bene Fulfilde hath he his greate beheste forspoken long before Hauoke made he in all excesse of nothinge made he store He stirde thy foes to laughe at the and thy yll willers all By his sole meanes did mounte aloofe as thou from hye didste fall Theire hartes abrayded to the lorde O wall of Syon towne Forthe of the fludgates of thyne eyes let fluddes of teares run downe Unceassauntlye do way all reste the apple of thyne eye Applye it still with moister still take heede it neuer drye Aryse praise him in silente nighte prayse him in earlye day Power oute thyne harte to him as thou wouldste water power awaye Lifte vp thyne handes to god that sittes in empyre and in seate That he maye helpe thy babee for faynte with pyne in euerye streate See o lorde see consyder well with home thou hast delte O And shall the mothers eate their yonge why lorde and shall they so Shall they thus grinde with teeth the fleshe that from their fleshe did ryse Their children scase a full span longe the preistes and prophetes wyse Be murdered yea in thyne owne house alas and shall they dye Both yonge and olde through all the stréetes Uppon the could grounde lye My virgins and my youthfull Brutes are fallen with stroke of sworde Thou haste them kilde and sparde not one â–ª in day of moodye worde Thou calste as in a solemne day my terrors rounde about And in that day such was thy ire not one on lyue got oute Those that by me were choyslye fed and tenderlye vp broughte Are all consumde woes me consumde and vanishde all to naughte ¶ The third Chap. I Am that wighte that abiecte wighte whiche mine owne neade haue seene Whilste that the massie rod of God vppon my backe hath bene He tooke me and conducted me to darknes not to lighte Turnde gainste my quite all daye his haÌ„de he turnde againste me righte He filde my skin and fleshe with â—elde and brusde my bones in small He buylte in gyre and compaste me with trauaile and with gall Bestowinge me in darkesum shades as one forlorne for aye Inuironing me rounde about leste I shoulde scape awaye And pressinge downe with pondrouse gyues my féete whiche els mighte flye He will not heare me when to him besechinglye I crye He hath forestopde my pathes with stone and crokde my wayes a syde He was a rampinge beare in waite a Lyon dyre vnspyde My waies he staied and nie dismaide of hope he made me bare He bente his bow and for his shaftes a marke he set me fare He causde his quyuer arrowes kéen my raynes for to assay I was a mocke to all my folke their sonnett all the daye Woormewood my drincke he ballasde me with balefull bitternes He brake my téethe and ashes gaue to féede me in distresse All reste disharboured from my soule my wealthe slipte out of minde My strengthe is gone in god quod I no further hope I fynde I beare in mynde the stertlinge panges the woormewood and the gall Freshe freshe ingraued in my soule my courage downe doth fall Nathlesse this vnderpropte my soule that truste coulde neuer quaile Goddes grace makes vs not to reuelte his mercy cannot faile A wounder woorker is our God beleue in him will I God is my part so sayde my soule I looke for him from hye The lorde is good to those