womans slaue performe his exequies Condole his death in mournfull Elegies Tut rather Peans sing Hermaphrodite For that sad death giues life to thy delight Sweet fac'd Corinna daine the riband tie Of thy Cork-shooe or els thy slaue will die Some puling Sonnet toles his passing bell Some sighing Elegie must ring his knell Vnlesse bright sunshine of thy grace reuiue His wambling stomack certes he will diue Into the vvhirle-poole of deuouring death And to some Mermaid sacrifice his breath Then oh oh then to thy eternall shame And to the honour of sweet Curios name This Epitaph vpon the Marble stone Must fayre be grau'd of that true louing one Heere lyeth hee hee lyeth heere that bounc'd and pitty cryed The doore not op'd fell sicke alas alas fell sicke and dyed What Mirmidon or hard Dolopian What sauage minded rude Cyclopian But such a sweet pathetique Paphian Would force to laughter Ho Amphitrion Thou art no Cuckold what though Ioue dallied During thy warres in faire Alckmenas bed Yet Hercules true borne that imbecilitie Of corrupt nature all apparantly Appeares in him ô foule indignitie I heard him vow himselfe a slaue to Omphale Puling aye mee ô valours obloquie Hee that the inmost nookes of hell did know Whose nere craz'd prowesse all did ouer-throw Lies streaking brawnie limmes in weakning bed Perfum'd smooth kemb'd new glaz'd faire surphuled O that the boundlesse power of the soule Should be subiected to such base controule Big limm'd Alcides doffe thy honors crowne Goe spin huge slaue least Omphale should frowne By my best hopes I blush with greefe and shame To broach the peasant basenes of our name O now my ruder hand begins to quake To thinke what loftie Cedars I must shake But if the canker fret the barkes of Oakes Like humbler shrubs shal equall beare the stroakes Of my respectlesse rude Satyrick hand Vnlesse the Destin's adamantine band Should tie my teeth I cannot choose but bite To view Mauortius metamorphiz'd quite To puling sighes into aye me 's state With voyce distinct all fine articulate Lisping Fayre saint my woe compassionate By heauen thine eye is my soule-guiding fate The God of wounds had wont on Cyprian couch To streake himselfe and with incensing touch To faint his force onely when wrath had end But now mong furious garboiles he doth spend His feebled valour in tilt and turneing With wet turn'd kisses melting dallying A poxe apon't that Bacchis name should be The watch-word giuen to the soulderie Goe troupe to fielde mount thy obscured fame Cry out S. George invoke thy Mistres name Thy Mistres and S. George alarum cry Weake force weake ayde that sprouts from luxurie Thou tedious workmanship of lust-stung Ioue Downe from thy skies enioy our females loue Some fiftie more Beotian gerles well sue To haue thy loue so that thy back be true O now me thinks I heare swart Martius cry Souping along in warrs fain'd maskerie By Lais starrie sront he 'le forth-with die In cluttred blood his Mistres liuorie Her fancies colours waues vpon his head O well fenc'd Albion mainly manly sped When those that are Soldadoes in thy state Doe beare the badge of base effeminate Euen on their plumie crests brutes sensuall Hauing no sparke of intellectuall Alack what hope when some ranck nasty wench Is subiect of their vowes and confidence Publius hates vainely to idolatries And laughs that Papists honor Images And yet ô madnes these mine eyes did see Him melt in mouing plaints obsequiously Imploring fauour twining his kind armes Vsing inchauntments exorcismes charmes The oyle of Sonnets wanton blandishment The force of teares seeming languishment Vnto the picture of a painted lasse I saw him court his Mistres looking-glasse Worship a busk-poynt which in secrecie I feare was conscius of strange villanie I saw him crouch deuote his liuelihood Sweare protest vow pesant seruitude Vnto a painted puppet to her eyes I heard him sweare his sighes to sacrifice But if he get her itch-allaying pinne O sacred relique straight he must beginne To raue out-right then thus Celestiall blisse Can heauen grant so rich a grace as this Touch it not by the Lord Sir t is diuine It once beheld her radiant eyes bright shine Her haire imbrac'd it ô thrice happie prick That there was thron'd and in her haire didst sticke Kisse blesse adore it Publius neuer linne Some sacred vertue lurketh in the pinne O frantick fond pathetique passion I st possible such sensuall action Should clip the wings of contemplation O can it be the spirits function The soule not subiect to dimension Should be made slaue to reprehension Of craftie natures paint Fie can our soule Be vnderling to such a vile controule Saturio wish'd him selfe his Mistres buske That he might sweetly lie and softly luske Betweene her pappes then must he haue an eye At eyther end that freely might discry Both hills and dales But out on Phrigio That wish'd he were his Mistres puppie cur to goe And licke his Mistres fist ô prettie grace That prettie Phrigio begs but Pretties place Parthenophell thy wish I will omit So beastly t is I may not vtter it But Punicus of all I 'le beare with thee That faine would'st be thy Mistres smug Munkey Here 's one would be a flea iest comicall Another his sweet Ladies verdingall To clip her tender breech Another he Her siluer-handled fanne would gladly be Here 's one would be his Mistres neck-lace faine To clip her faire and kisse her azure vaine Fond fooles well wish'd and pittie but should bee For beastly shape to brutish soules agree If Lauras painted lip doe daine a kisse To her enamor'd slaue ô heauens blisse Straight he exclaimes not to be match'd with this Blaspheming dolt goe three-score sonnets write Vpon a pictures kisse ô rauing spright I am not saplesse old or rumatick No Hipponax mishapen stigmatick That I should thus inueigh gainst amorous spright Of him whose soule doth turne Hermaphrodite But I doe sadly grieue and inly vexe To view the base dishonors of our sexe Tush guiltles Doues when Gods to force foule rapes Will turne themselues to any brutish shapes Base bastard powers whom the world doth see Traus-form'd to swine for sensuall luxurie The sonne of Saturne is become a Bull To crop the beauties of some female trull Now when he hath his first wife Metim sped And fairely chok'd least foole gods should be bred Of that fond Mule Themis his second wife Hath turn'd away that his vnbrideled life Might haue more scope Yet last his sisters loue Must satiate the lustfull thoughts of Ioue Now doth the lecher in a Cuckowes shape Commit a monstrous and incestuous rape Thrice sacred gods and ô thrice blessed skies Whose orbes includes such vertuous deities What should I say Lust hath confounded all The bright glosse of our intellectuall Is fouly soyl'd The wanton wallowing In fond delights and amorous dallying Hath dusk'd the fairest splendour of our soule Nothing now left but carkas lothsome foule
THE SCOVRGE OF Villanie Three Bookes of Satyres PERSEVS v v v Nec scompros metuentia carmina nec thus AT LONDON Printed by I. R. and are to be fold by Iohn Buzbie in Paules Church-yard at the signe of the Crane 1598. To Detraction I present my Poesie FOule canker of faire vertuous action Vile blaster of the freshest bloomes on earth Enuies abhorred childe Detraction I heare expose to thy all-taynting breath The issue of my braine snarle raile barke bite Know that my spirit scornes Detractions spight Know that the Genius which attendeth on And guides my powers intellectuall Holds in all vile repute Detraction My soule an essence metaphisicall That in the basest sort scornes Critickes rage Because he knowes his sacred parentage My spirit is not huft vp with fatte fume Of slimie Ale nor Bacchus heating grape My minde disdaines the dungie muddy scum Of abiect thoughts and Enuies raging hate True iudgement slight regards Opinion A sprighly wit disdaines Detraction A partiall praise shall neuer eleuate My setled censure of mine owne esteeme A cankered verdit of malignant Hate Shall nere prouoke me worse my selfe to deeme Spight of despight and rancors villanie I am my selfe so is my poesie In Lectores prorsus indignos FY Satyre fie shall each mechanick slaue Each dunghill pesant free perusall haue Of thy well labor'd lines Shal each sattin sute Each quaint fashiō-monger whose sole repute Rests in his trim gay clothes lye slauering Taynting thy lines with his lewd censuring Shall each odd puisne of the Lawyers Inne Each barmy-froth that last day did beginne To reade his little or his nere a whit Or shall some greater auncient of lesse wit That neuer turnd but browne Tobacco leaues Whose sences some damn'd Occupant bereaues Lye gnawing on thy vacant times expence Tearing thy rimes quite altering the sence Or shall perfum'd Castilio censure thee Shall he oreview thy sharpe-fang'd poesie Who nere read farther then his Mistris lips Nere practiz'd ought but som spruce capring skips Nere in his life did other language vse But Sweete Lady faire Mistres kind hart deare couse Shall this Fantasma this Colosse peruse And blast with stinking breath thy budding Muse Fye wilt thou make thy wit a Curtezan For euery broking hand-crafts artizan Shall brainles Cyterne heads each iubernole Poket the very Genius of thy soule I Phylo I I 'le keepe an open hall A common and a sumptuous festiuall Welcome all eyes all eares all tongues to me Gnaw pesants on my scraps of poesie Castilios Cyprians court-boyes spanish blocks Ribanded eares granado-netherstocks Fidles Scriueners pedlers tynkering knaues Base blew-coats tapsters brod-cloth minded slaues Welcome I-fayth but may you nere depart Till I haue made your gauled hides to smart Your gauled hides avaunt base muddy scum Thinke you a Satyres dreadfull sounding drum Will brace it selfe and daine to terrefie Such abiect pesants basest rogary No no passe on ye vaine fantasticke troupe Of puffie youthes Know I doe scorne to stoupe To rip your liues Then hence lewd nags away Goe read each post view what is plaid to day Then to Priapus gardens You Castilio I pray thee let my lines in freedome goe Let me alone the Madams call for thee Longing to laugh at thy wits pouertie Sirra liuorie cloake you lazie slipper slaue Thou fawning drudge what would'st thou Satyres haue Base mind away thy master calls begon Sweet Gnato let my poesie alone Goe buy some ballad of the Faiery King And of the begger wench some rogie thing Which thou maist chaunt vnto the chamber-maid To some vile tune when that thy Maister 's laid But will you needs stay am I forc'd to beare The blasting breath of each lewd Censurer Must naught but clothes and images of men But sprightles truncks be Iudges of thy pen Nay then come all I prostitute my Muse For all the swarme of Idiots to abuse Reade all view all euen with my full consent So you will know that which I neuer meant So you will nere conceiue and yet dispraise That which you nere conceiu'd laughter raise Where I but striue in honest seriousnes To scourge some soule-poluting beastlines So you will raile and finde huge errors lurke In euery corner of my Cynick worke Proface reade on for your extreamst dislikes Will add a pineon to my praises flights O how I bristle vp my plumes of pride O how I thinke my Satyres dignifi'd When I once heare some quaint Castilio Some supple mouth'd slaue some lewd Tubrio Some spruce pedant or some span-new come fry Of Innes a-court striuing to vilefie My darke reproofes Then doe but raile at me No greater honor craues my poesie 1. But yee diuiner wits celestiall soules Whose free-borne mindes no kennel thought contoules Ye sacred spirits Mayas eldest sonnes 2. Yee substance of the shadowes of our age In whom all graces linke in marriage To you how cheerfully my poeme runnes 3. True iudging eyes quick sighted censurers Heauens best beauties wisedoms treasurers O how my loue embraceth your great worth 4. Yee Idols of my soule yee blessed spirits How shold I giue true honor to your merrits Which I can better thinke then here paint forth You sacred spirits Maias eldest sonnes To you how cheerfully my poeme runnes O how my loue embraceth your great worth Which I can better think then here paint forth O rare To those that seeme iudiciall perusers KNow I hate to affect too much obscuritie harshnes because they profit no sence To note vices so that no man can vnderstand them is as fonde as the French execution in picture Yet there are some too many that think nothing good that is so curteous as to come within their reach Tearming all Satyres bastard which are not palpable darke and so rough writ that the hearing of them read would set a man teeth on edge For whose vnseasond pallate I wrote the first Satyre in some places too obscure in all places misliking me Yet when by some scuruie chaunce it shal come into the late perfumed fist of iudiciall Torquatus that like some rotten stick in a troubled water hath gotte a great deale of barmy froth to stick to his sides I know he will vouchsafe it some of his new-minted Epithets as Reall Intrinsecate Delphicke when in my conscience hee vnderstands not the least part of it But from thence proceedes his iudgement Perseus is crabby because antient his ierkes being perticulerly giuē to priuate customes of his time duskie Iuuenall vpon the like occasion seemes to our iudgement gloomie Yet both of them goe a good seemely pace not stumbling shuffling Chaucer is harde euen to our vnderstandings who knowes not the reason hovve much more those old Satyres which expresse themselues in termes that breathed not long euen in their daies But had we then liued the vnderstanding of them had been nothing hard I will not deny there is a seemely decorum to be obserued and a peculiar kinde of speech for a Satyres lips which I can
For sure if that some spright remained still Could it be subiect to lewd Lais will Reason by prudence in her function Had wont to tutor all our action Ayding with precepts of philosophy Our feebled natures imbecilitie But now affection will concupiscence Haue got o're Reason chiefe preheminene T is so els how how should such basenes taint As force it be made slaue to natures paint Me thinkes the spirits Pegase Fantasie Should hoise the soule from such base slauery But now I see and can right plainly show Frō whence such abiect thoughts actions grow Our aduerse body beeing earthly cold Heauie dull mortall would not long infold A stranger inmate that was backward still To all his dungie brutish sensuall will Now here-vpon our Intellectuall Compact of fire all celestiall Invisible immortall and diuine Grewe straight to scorne his Land-lordes muddy slime And therefore now is closely slunke avvay Leauing his smoakie house of mortall clay Adorn'd with all his beauties lineaments And brightest iemms of shining ornaments His parts diuine sacred spirituall Attending on him leauing the sensuall Base hangers on lusking at home in slime Such as wont to stop port Esqueline Now doth the body ledde with sencelesse will The which in reasons absence ruleth still Raue talke idlie as 't were some deitie Adoring female painted puppetry Playing at put-pin doting on some glasse Which breath'd but on his falsed glosse doth passe Toying with babies and with fond pastime Some childrens sport deflowring of chast time Imploying all his wits in vaine expence Abusing all his organons of sence Returne returne sacred Synderesis Inspire our truncks let not such mud as this Pollute vs still Awake our lethargie Raise vs from out our brain-sicke foolerie SATYRE IX Here 's a toy to mocke an Ape indeede GRim-fac'd Reproofe sparkle with threatning eye Bend thy sower browes in my tart poesie Auant yee curres houle in some cloudie mist Quake to behold a sharp-fang'd Satyrist O how on tiptoes proudly mounts my Muse Stalking a loftier gate then Satyres vse Me thinkes some sacred rage warmes all my vaines Making my spright mount vp to higher straines Then wel beseemes a rough-tongu'd Satyres part But Art curbs Nature Nature guildeth Art Come downe yee Apes or I will strip you quite Baring your bald tayles to the peoples sight Yee Mimick slaues what are you percht so high Downe Iack an Apes from thy fain'd roialtie What furr'd with beard cas'd in a Satin sute Iudiciall Iack how hast thou got repute Of a sound censure O ideot times Whē gawdy Monkeyes mowe ore sprightly rimes O world of fooles when all mens iudgement's set And rests vpon some mumping Marmuset Yon Athens Ape that can but simperingly Yaule auditores humanissimi bound to some seruile imitation Can with much sweat patch an Oration Now vp he comes and with his crooked eye Presumes to squint on some faire Poesie And all as thanklesse as vngratefull Thames He slinkes away leauing but reeching steames Of dungie slime behind all as ingrate He vseth it as when I satiate My sparsiels paunch who straight perfumes the roome With his tailes filth so this vnciuill groome Ill-tutor'd pedant Mortimers numbers With muck-pit esculine filth bescumbers Now th' Ape chatters and is as malecontent As a bill-patch'd doore whose entrailes out haue sent And spewd theyr tenant My soule adores iudiciall schollership But when to seruile imitatorship Some spruce Athenian pen is prentized T is worse then Apish Fie bee not flattered With seeming worth fond affectation Befits an Ape and mumping Babilon O what a tricksie lerned nicking straine Is this applauded sencles modern vain When late I heard it frō sage Mutius lips How il me thought such wanton Iigging skips Beseem'd his grauer speech Farre flie thy fame Most most of me belou'd whose silent name One letter bounds Thy true iudiciall stile I euer honour and if my loue beguile Not much my hopes then thy vnvalued worth Shall mount faire place whē Apes are turned forth I am too milde reach me my scourge againe O yon 's a pen speakes in a learned vaine Deepe past all sence Lanthorne candle light Here 's all invisible all ment all spright What hotchpotch giberidge doth the Poet bring How strangely speakes yet sweetly doth he sing I once did know a tinckling Pewterer That was the vildest stumbling stutterer That euer hack'd and hew'd our natiue tongue Yet to the Lute if you had heard him sung Iesu how sweet he breath'd You can apply O sencelesse prose iudiciall poesie How ill you 'r link'd This affectation To speake beyond mens apprehension How Apish t is When all in fusten sute Is cloth'd a huge nothing all for repute Of profound knowledge whē profoūdnes knowes There 's nought containd but only seeming showes Old Iack of Parris-garden canst thou get A faire rich sute though fouly runne in debt Looke smug smell sweet take vp commodities Keepe whores fee baudes belch impious blasphemies Wallow along in swaggering disguise Snuffe vp smoak whiffs each morne fore she rise Visite thy drab Canst vse a false cut Die With a cleane grace and glib faciliie Canst thunder cannon oathes like th'ratling Of a huge double full-charg'd culuering Then Iack troupe mong our gallants kisse thy fist And call them brothers Say a Satyrist Sweares they are thine in neere affinitie All coosin germaines saue in villanie For sadly truth to say what are they els But imitators of lewd beastlines Farre worse then Apes for mow or scratch your pate It may be some odde Ape will imitate But let a youth that hath abus'd his time In wronged trauaile in that hoter clime Swoope by old Iack in clothes Italienate And I 'le be hang'd if he will imitate His strange fantastique sute shapes Or let him bring or'e beastly luxuries Some hell-deuised lustfull villanies Euē Apes beasts would blush with natiue shame And thinke it foule dishonour to their name Their beastly name to imitate such sin As our lewd youths doe boast and glory in Fie whether doe these Monkeys carry mee Their very names doe soile my poesie Thou world of Marmosets and mumping Apes Vnmaske put of thy fained borrowed shapes Why lookes neate Curus all so simperingly Why babbles thou of deepe Diuinitie And of that sacred testimoniall Liuing voluptuous like a Bacchanall Good hath thy tongue but thou ranke Puritan I 'le make an Ape as good a Christian. I 'le force him chatter turning vp his eye Looke sad goe graue Demure ciuilitie Shall seeme to say Good brother sister deere As for the rest to snort in belly cheere To bite to gnaw and boldly intermell With sacred things in which thou doost excell Vnforc'd he 'le doe O take compassion Euen on your soules make not religion A bawde to lewdnes Ciuill Socrates Clip not the youth of Alcebiades With vnchast armes Disguised Messaline I 'le teare thy maske and bare thee to the eyne Of hissing boyes if to the Theaters I finde thee once more come
for lecherers To satiate Nay to tyer thee with the vse Of weakning lust Yee fainers leaue t' abuse Our better thoughts with your hipocisie Or by the euer-liuing Veritie I 'le stryp you nak'd and whyp you with my rimes Causing your shame to liue to after times SATYRE X. Humours SLeep grim Reproofe my iocond Muse dooth sing In other keyes to nimbler fingering Dull sprighted Melancholy leaue my braine To hell Cimerian night in liuely vaine I striue to paint then hence all darke intent And sullen frownes come sporting meriment Cheeke dimpling laughter crowne my very soule With iouisance whilst mirthfull iests controule The goutie humours of these pride-swolne dayes Which I doe long vntill my pen displaies O I am great with mirth some midwifrie Or I shall breake my sides at vanitie Roome for a capering mouth whose lips nere stur But in discoursing of the gracefull slur Who euer heard spruce skipping Curio Ere prate of ought but of the whirle on toe The turne aboue ground Robrus sprauling kicks Fabius caper Harries tossing tricks Did euer any eare ere heare him speake Vnlesse his tongue of crosse-poynts did intreat His teeth doe caper whilst he eates his meate His heeles doe caper whilst he takes his seate His very soule his intellectuall Is nothing but a mincing capreall He dreames of toe-turnes each gallant hee doth meete He fronts him with a trauers in the streete Prayse but Orchestra and the skipping art You shall commaund him faith you haue his hart Euen capring in your fist A hall a hall Roome for the Spheres the Orbes celestiall Will daunce Kemps Iigge They 'le reuel with neate iumps A worthy Poet hath put on their Pumps O wits quick trauers but sance ceo's slow Good faith t is hard for nimble Curio Yee gracious Orbs keepe the old measuring All 's spoyld if once yee fall to capering Luscus what 's playd to day faith now I know I set thy lips abroach from whence doth flow Naught but pure Iuliat and Romio Say who acts best Drusus or Roscio Now I haue him that nere of ought did speake But when of playes or Plaiers he did treate H'ath made a common-place booke out of plaies And speakes in print at least what ere he sayes Is warranted by Curtaine plaudeties If ere you heard him courting Lesbias eyes Say Curteous Sir speakes he not mouingly From out some new pathetique Tragedie He writes he railes he iests he courts what not And all from out his huge long scraped stock Of well penn'd playes Oh come not within distance Martius speakes Who nere discourseth but of fencing feates Of counter times finctures slye passataes Stramazones resolute Stoccataes Of the quick change with wiping mandritta The carricado with th' enbrocata Oh by Iesu Sir me thinks I heare him cry The honourable fencing mistery Who doth not honor Then fals he in againe Iading our eares and some-what must be saine Of blades and Rapier-hilts of surest garde Of Vincentio and the Burgonians ward This bumbast foile-button I once did see By chaunce in Liuias modest companie When after the God-sauing ceremonie For want of talke-stuffe falls to foinerie Out goes his Rapier and to Liuia He showes the ward by puncta reuersa The incarnata Nay by the blessed light Before he goes he 'le teach her how to fight And hold her weapon Oh I laught amaine To see the madnes of this Martius vaine But roome for Tuscus that iest-mounging youth Who nere did ope his Apish gerning mouth But to retaile and broke anothers wit Discourse of what you will he straight can fit Your present talke with Sir I 'le tell a iest Of some sweet Lady or graund Lord at least Then on he goes And nere his tongue shall lye Till his ingrossed iests are all drawne dry But then as dumbe as Maurus when at play H'ath lost his crownes and paun'd his trim array He doth naught but retaile iests breake but one Out flies his table-booke let him alone He 'le haue 't i-fayth Lad hast an Epigram Wilt haue it put into the chaps of Fame Giue Tuscus coppies sooth as his owne wit His propper issue he will father it O that this Eccho that doth speake spet write Naught but the excrements of others spright This ill-stuft truncke of iests vvhose very soule Is but a heape of Iibes should once inroule His name mong creatures termed rationall whose cheefe repute whose sence whose soule al Are fedde with offall scrapes that sometimes fal From liberall wits in their large festiuall Come a loft Iack roome for a vaulting skip Roome For Torquatus that nere op'd his lip But in prate of pummado reuersa Of the nimble tumbling Angelica Now on my soule his very intelect Is naught but a curuetting Sommerset Hush hush cryes honest Phylo peace desist Doost thou not tremble sower Satyrist Now iudiciall Musus readeth thee He 'le whip each line he 'le scourge thy balladry Good fayth he will Phylo I prethee stay Whilst I the humour of this dogge display He 's naught but censure wilt thou credite me He neuer wrote one line in poesie But once at Athens in a theame did frame A paradox in prayse of Vertues name Which still he huggs and lulls as tenderly As cuckold Tisus his wifes bastardie Well here 's a challenge I flatly say he lyes That heard him ought but censure Poesies T is his discourse first hauing knit the brow Stroke vp his fore-top champed euery row Belcheth his slauering censure on each booke That dare presume euen on Medusa looke I haue no Artists skill in simphonies Yet when some pleasing Diapason flies From out the belly of a sweet touch'd Lute My eares dares say t is good or when they sute Some harsher seauens for varietie My natiue skill discernes it presently What then Will any sottish dolt repute Or euer thinke me Orpheus absolute Shall all the world of Fidlers follow me Relying on my voyce in musickrie Musus here 's Rhodes le ts see thy boasted leape Or els avaunt lewd curre presume not speake Or with thy venome-sputtering chapps to barke Gainst well-pend Poems in the tongue-tied darke O for a humour looke who yon doth goe The meager lecher lewd Luxurio T is he that hath the sole monopolie By patent of the Suburbe lecherie No new edition of drabbs comes out But seene and allow'd by Luxurios snout Did euer any man ere heare him talke But of Pick-hatch or of some Shorditch baulke Aretines filth or of his wandring whore Of some Cynedian or of Tacedore Of Ruscus nastie lothsome brothell rime That stincks like Aiax froth or muck-pit slime The newes he tells you is of some new flesh Lately broke vp spanne new hote piping fresh The curtesie he showes you is some morne To giue you Venus fore her smock be on His eyes his tongue his soule his all is lust VVhich vengeance and confusion follow must Out on this salt humour letchers dropsie Fie it doth soyle my chaster poesie O spruce How
hall to showe his capring skill As willingly come meete iumpe together As new ioyn'd loues when they doe clip each other As willingly as wenches trip a round About a May-pole after bagpipes sound Come riming numbers come and grace conceite Adding a pleasing close with your deceit Inticing eares Let not my ruder hand Seeme once to force you in my lines to stand Be not so fearefull pretty soules to meete As Flaccus is the Sergiants face to greete Be not so backward loth to grace my sence As Drusus is to haue intelligence His Dad's aliue but come into my head As iocondly as when his vvife was dead Young Lelus to his home Come like-fac'd rime In tunefull numbers keeping musicks time But if you hange an arse like Tubered When Chremes dragg'd him from his brothell bed Then hence base ballad stuffe my poetrie Disclaimes you quite for know my libertie Scornes riming lawes Alas poore idle sound Since I first Phoebus knew I neuer found Thy interest in sacred Poesie Thou to Invention add'st but surquedry A gaudie ornature but hast no part In that soule-pleasing high infused art Then if thou wilt clip kindly in my lines Welcome thou friendly ayde of my designes If not No title of my sencelesse change To wrest some forced rime but freely range Yee scrupulous obseruers goe learne Of Aesops dogge meate from a shade discerne SATYRE V. ♂ ☿ Totum in toto HAnge thy selfe Drusus hast nor arms nor brain Some Sophy say the gods sell all for paine Not so Had not that toyling Thebane steled back Dread poysned shafts liu'd he now he should lack Spight of his farming Oxe-staules Themis selfe Would be casheir'd from one poore scrap of plefe If that she were incarnate in our time Shee might lusk scorned in disdained slime Shaded from honor by some enuious mist Of watry foggs that fill the ill-stuft list Of faire Desert ielous euen of blind darke Least it should spie and at their lamenes barke Honors shade thrusts honors substance frō his place T is strange when shade the substance can disgrace Harsh lines cryes Curus vvhose eares nere reioyce But at the quauering of my Ladies voyce Rude limping lines fits this leud halting age Sweet senting Curus pardon then my rage When wisards sweare plaine vertue neuer thriues None but Priapus by plaine dealing vviues Thou subtile Hermes are the Destinies Enamor'd on thee then vp mount the skies Aduance depose doe euen what thou list So long as Fates doe grace thy iugling fist Tuscus hast Benclarkes armes and strong sinewes Large reach full fedde vaines ample reuenewes Then make thy markets by thy proper arme O brawnie strength is an all-canning charme Thou dreadlesse Thracean hast Hallirrhotius slaine VVhat i st not possible thy cause maintaine Before the dozen Areopagites Come Enagonian furnish him with slights Tut Plutos wrath Proserpina can melt So that thy sacrifice be freely felt What cannot Iuno force in bed with Ioue Turne and returne a sentence with her loue Thou art too duskie Fie thou shallow Asse Put on more eyes and marke me as I passe Well plainely thus Sleight Force are mighty things Frō which much if not most earths glory springs If Vertues selfe were clad in humane shape Vertue without these might goe beg and scrape The naked truth is a well clothed lie A nimble quick-pate mounts to dignitie By force or fraude that matters not a iot So massie wealth may fall vnto thy lot I heard old Albius sweare Flavus should haue His eldest gurle for Flavus was a knaue A damn'd deep-reaching villaine would mount He durst well warrant him to great account VVhat though he laid forth all his stock store Vpon some office yet he 'le gaine much more Though purchast deere Tut he will trebble it In some fewe termes by his extorting wit When I in simple meaning went to sewe For tonge-tide Damus that would needs go wooe I praysd him for his vertue honest life By God cryes Flora I le not be his wife He 'le nere come on Now I sweare solemlie When I goe next I 'le prayse his villanie A better field to range in now a dayes If vice be vertue I can all men praise What though pale Maurus paid huge symonies For his halfe-dozen gelded vicaries Yet with good honest cut-throate vsurie I feare he 'le mount to reuerent dignitie O sleight all-canning sleight all-damning sleight The onely gally-ladder vnto might Tuscus is trade falne yet great hope he 'le rise For now he makes no count of periuries Hath drawne false lights from pitch-black loueries Glased his braided ware Cogs sweares and lyes Now since he hath the grace thus gracelesse be His neighbors sweare he 'le swell with treasurie Tut who maintaines such goods ill got decay No they 'le stick by thy soule they 'le nere away Luscus my Lords perfumer had no sale Vntill he made his wife a brothell stale Absurd the gods sell all for industrie When what 's not got by hell-bred villanie Codrus my well-fac'd Ladies taile-bearer He that some-times play'th Flauias vsherer I heard one day complaine to Linceus How vigilant how right obsequious Modest in carriage how true in trust And yet alas nere guerdond with a crust But now I see he findes by his accounts That sole Priapus by plaine dealing mounts How now what droupes the new Pegasian Inne I feare mine host is honest Tut beginne To set vp whore-house Nere too late to thriue By any meanes at Porta Rich ' ariue Goe vse some sleight or liue poore Irus life Straight prostitute thy daughter or thy wife And soone be wealthy but be damn'd with it Hath not rich Mylo then deepe reaching wit Faire age When t is a high and hard thing t ' haue repute Of a compleat villaine perfect absolute And roguing vertue brings a man defame A packstaffe Epethite and scorned name Fie how my with flaggs how heauily Me thinks I vent dull sprightlesse poesie What cold black frost congeales my nūmed brain What enuious power stops a Satyres vaine O now I know the iugling God of sleights With Caduceus nimble Hermes fights And mists my wit Offended that my rimes Displaie his odious world-abusing crimes O be propitious powerfull God of Arts I sheathe my weapons and doe breake my darts Be then appeas'd I 'le offer to thy shrine An Heccatombe of many spottedkine Myriades of beastes shall satisfie thy rage Which doe prophane thee in this Apish age Infectious blood yee goutie humors quake Whilst my sharp Razor doth incision make SATYRE VI. Hem nosti'n CVrio know'st me vvhy thou bottle-ale Thou barmy froth O stay me least I raile Beyond Nil vltra to see this Butterflie This windie bubble taske my balladry With sencelesse censure Curio know'st my spright Yet deem'st that in sad seriousnes I write Such nastie stuffe as is Pigmalion Such maggot-tainted lewd corruption Ha now he glauers with his fawning snowte And swears he thought I meant but faintly flowte My fine
smug ryme O barbarous dropsie noule Think'st thou that Genius that attends my soule And guides my fist to scourge Magnifico's Wil daigne my mind be ranck'd in Paphian showes Think'st thou that I which was create to whip Incarnate fiends will once vouchsafe to trip A Paunis trauerse or will lispe sweet loue Or pule Aye me some female soule to moue Think'st thou that I in melting poesie Will pamper itching sensualitie That in the bodyes scumme all fatally Intombes the soules most sacred faculty Hence thou misiudging Censor know I wrot Those idle rimes to note the odious spot And blemish that deformes the lineaments Of moderne Poesies habiliments Oh that the beauties of Invention For want of Iudgements disposition Should all be soyl'd ô that such treasurie Such straines of well-conceited poesie Should moulded be in such a shapelesse forme That want of Art should make such wit a scorne Here 's one must invocate some lose-legg'd dame Some brothell drab to helpe him stanzaes frame Or els alas his wits can haue no vent To broch conceits industrious intent Another yet dares tremblingly come out But first he must invoke good Colyn Clout Yon 's one hath yean'd a fearefull prodigie Some monstrous mishapen Balladry His guts are in his braines huge Iobbernoule Right Gurnets-head the rest without all soule Another walkes is lazie lyes him downe Thinkes reades at length some wonted sleep doth crowne His new falne lids dreames straight tenne pound to one Out steps some Fayery with quick motion And tells him wonders of some flowrie vale Awakes straight rubs his eyes and prints his tale Yon 's one whose straines haue flowne so high a pitch That straight he flags tumbles in a ditch His sprightly hote high-soring poesie Is like that dreamed of Imagerie Whose head was gold brest siluer brassie thigh Lead leggs clay feete ô faire fram'd poesie Here 's one to get an vndeseru'd repute Of deepe deepe learning all in fustian sute Of ill-plac'd farre-fetch'd words attiereth His period that all sence forsweareth Another makes old Homer Spencer cite Like my Pigmalion where with rare delight He cryes O Ouid. This caus'd my idle quill The worlds dull eares with such lewd stuffe to fill And gull with bumbast lines the witlesse sence Of these odde naggs whose pates circumference Is fild with froth O these same buzzing Gnats That sting my sleeping browes these Nilus Rats Halfe dung that haue their life from putrid slime These that doe praise my loose lasciuious rime For these same shades I seriously protest I slubber'd vp that Chaos indigest To fish for fooles that stalke in goodly shape What though in veluet cloake yet still an Ape Capro reads sweares scrubs and sweares againe Now by my soule an admirable straine Strokes vp his haire cryes passing passing good Oh there 's a line incends his lustfull blood Then Muto comes with his new glasse-set face And with his late kist-hand my booke dooth grace Straight reades then smyles lisps t is prety good And praiseth that he neuer vnderstood But roome for Flaccus he 'le my Satyres read Oh how I trembled straight with inward dread But when I saw him read my fustian And heard him sweare I was a Pythian Yet straight recald sweares I did but quote Out of Xilinum to that margents note I could scarce hold keepe my selfe conceal'd But had well-nigh my selfe and all reueal'd Then straight comes Friscus that neat gentleman That newe discarded Academian Who for he could cry Ergo in the schoole Straight-way with his huge iudgement dares controle What so'ere he viewes that is prety prety good That Epethite hath not that sprightly blood Which should enforce it speake that 's Perseus vaine That 's Iuvenals heere 's Horrace crabbed straine Though he nere read one line in Iuvenall Or in his life his lazie eye let fall On duskie Perseus O indignitie To my respectlesse free-bred poesie Hence ye big-buzzing-little-bodied Gnats Yee tatling Ecchoes huge tongu'd pigmy brats I meane to sleepe wake not my slumbring braine VVith your malignant weake detracting vaine VVhat though the sacred issue of my soule I heare expose to Ideots controule What though I bare to lewd Opinion Lay ope to vulgar prophanation My very Genius Yet know my poesie Doth scorne your vtmost rank'st indignitie My pate was great with child here t is eas'd Vexe all the world so that thy selfe be pleas'd SATYRE VII A Cynicke Satyre A Man a man a kingdome for a man Why how now currish mad Athenian Thou Cynick dogge see'st not streets do swarme With troupes of men No no for Circes charme Hath turn'd them all to swine I neuer shall Thinke those same Samian sawes authenticall But rather I dare sweare the soules of swine Doe liue in men for that same radiant shine That lustre wherwith natures Nature decked Our intellectuall part that glosse is soyled With stayning spots of vile impietie And muddy durt of sensualitie These are no men but Apparitions Ignes fatui Glowormes Fictions Meteors Ratts of Nilus Fantasies Colosses Pictures Shades Resemblances Ho Linceus Seest thou yon gallant in the sumptuous clothes How brisk how spruce how gorgiously he showes Note his French-herring bones but note no more Vnlesse thou spy his fayre appendant whore That lackyes him Marke nothing but his clothes His new stampt complement his Cannon oathes Marke those for naught but such lewd viciousnes Ere graced him saue Sodom beastlines Is this a Man Nay an incarnate deuill That struts in vice and glorieth in euill A man a man peace Cynick yon is one A compleat soule of all perfection What mean'st thou him that walks al opē brested Drawne through the eare with Ribands plumy crested He that doth snort in fat-fed luxury And gapes for some grinding Monopoly He that in effeminate inuention In beastly source of all pollution In ryot lust and fleshly seeming sweetnes Sleepes sound secure vnder the shade of greatnes Mean'st thou that sencelesse sensuall Epicure That sinck of filth that guzzell most impure What he Linceus on my word thus presume He 's nought but clothes senting sweet perfume His very soule assure thee Linceus Is not so big as is an Atomus Nay he is sprightlesse sence or soule hath none Since last Medusa turn'd him to a stone A man a man Loe yonder I espie The shade of Nestor in sad grauitie Since old Sylenus brake his Asses back He now is forc'd his paunch and gutts to pack In a fayre Tumbrell VVhy sower Satirist Canst thou vnman him Here I dare insist And soothly say he is a perfect soule Eates Nectar drinks Ambrosia saunce controule An invndation of felicitie Fat 's him with honor and huge treasurie Canst thou not Linceus cast thy searching eye And spy his immynent Catastrophe He 's but a spunge and shortly needs must leese His wrong got iuyce when greatnes fist shal squeese His liquor out Would not some shallowe head That is with seeming shadowes onely fed Sweare yon same