Selected quad for the lemma: state_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A67197
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Epistles to the King and Duke
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Wycherley, William, 1640-1716.
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1682
(1682)
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Wing W3742; ESTC R217195
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17,127
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70
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Worlds hidden Axeltree Round which whilst all things turn you fixt we see True Image of the patient Deitie Prophan'd by those you shou'd be worship'd by From your own bounty you too they defye Wou'd glorify you as your Father too O're the whole world in Heaven wou'd Crown you Your Fate wou'd be who alwayes had been theirs For your last Exaltation they make Prayers To their own Fate wou'd be the fatal Doome Him wou'd subdue by whom they overcome Their saving Admiral wou'd run on ground Venture their own but His life to confound Their foes in you o're-come be Conqu'rers so And all your Trophys get by spoyling you Base treacherous and losing Victorie By which the Conquerors wou'd ruin'd be Immortall Pens successful virtue claw Mine now for Fortunes Conqueror I draw Virtue distrest in my Verse still shall Live Who dies for Honour him shall Fame reprieve Honour 's a kind of losing loadam Game Whereby who loses Life gets more of Fame And never dies in his Eternal Name Fame do's gain Fame whilst Fame to you shee gives And Fame of her suspected truth retrives A Prince distrest most Honour so can give In being Poets Theam you make him live But ready'st way to Immortallity Is not to save your Name but for it Dye The greatest Honour kept by Destiny I who in verse ne're thought a Name to raise Or for my honour to give others praise Cou'd not refuse my self best way to Fame Who your great Name Enroles Enroles his name Painters so by their finish'd Hero's side Small name in Corner of great picture hide From giving of just likness they take pride Ambitious hand grasps Immortallity And Climes to Fame by laying hold so high If you were dead you never wou'd be dead Were there no Faith you wou'd be worshipped Did you not own a God you might be one Might sit Safe High were you not next the Throne Wer 't not your Altar it might be your Seat Serving your God and King you are more great Your Duty to both Kings is your offence That fallen Rebel-Devils do's incence You fear God too much so much love your Prince Nay you cou'd love too without recompence Allegiance is your fault Virtue your Crime Your Courage makes you fear'd your Justice Grim To those who wou'd the Royal House divide Which stands scarce safe but by your Propping Side Your High Born-Brother was without the Sun You hidden Pole on which His world did Run The lower bearing Hinge o th' Government For want of which it has on one side leant More fit by State Thief to be heav'd aside Who to unhinging has all force apply'd And lent his Back his Shoulders and each side Whilst Fall of State bold Fooles own Trap might prove Crushing those Shoulders which for ruin hove And Spreyn those Armes which for unhinging Strove For Monarchy they wou'd shut out of dore Kings they wou'd be yet wou'd have Kings no more At Westminster they 'd even you Adore Wou'd give your resting Courage there it 's due But may they I and Fame long keep your view You to be greater need not cannot dye Y 'ave got already Immortality I wou'd dye for your Name live by it too Gods Name and yours can Life by Death bestow But there is taking too great Name in Vain And you Sir of my Vowes may well complain Which with too small devotion I Reherse Gods demy-Gods have yet Pray'r Prayses in Verse Which only Zealous giver do's delight Devotion pays it self by being right Who fears not to give Honour where 't is due Shews his true worship that 's Religion true Poets Devotion without blame may have Who seldom seek a Soul but Name to save Poets Physitians Persecutors are Yet such Religions Persecutors spare 'Cause they for no Religion will declare Such for the Dead but to the Living pray Damn or Save men as men will give or pay But free-will'd Poet prays to Heathen Saints To Love to Caeres Bacchus makes comâ—…aints VVithout the fear of Sharp finn'd Pâ—â—â—â—vants 'Gainst worshipping the Devil there 's no Law VVho dares fear Purgatory Statutes jaw VVill swallow up alive at Westminster VVretch of Redemption ever must dispair 'Till Purgatory want Bards little ease Frees him from starving world his worst disease Of which we find he 's allways crying out The World 's his Plague his Pox and his poor Gout And from his Head flyes down into his Foot Seldom permitting him to go abroad Till he goes last step of life's rugged Road And fills his hungry unstopt mouth with Clay VVhich scarce had mouthful till his lifes last lay And but for it was ever known to pray Yet Godly malice may for ought I know Charge me tho' Poet with Religion too By shewing short Devotion Sir to you Poets indeed oft are Idolaters But Verse to you is saying of on 's pray'rs Poets tune up to Earthly Gods sett Ayres To help Coyne needs and urgent Verse-affayres Set up their Golden Calves their Stocks their Stones Traffick their worship but for others Boones Blessings which Cost too many heavy groans Yet upstart demy-Gods nor Idols shall Me from my old Devotion tempt or call Dread Sir to you I 'le pray bow bend stiff knee Rebellion is to me Idolatrie Our Common Fate shall be my Deitie But least my praying should be thought a sin By cursing my Devotion shall begin For devout Cursers Poets still have been Curst be those Jewes by whom y' are bannish'd hence To whom your Firmness was greatest Offence VVho to your Princely Forehead Thorns apply'd VVound Majesty piercing it through your Side Joves and your Brothers Thunder too defye Like Atheists against Conscience will deny Your great Names Immortality My mortal Verse in your Name shall not dye The safe bold way to save a Poets Name Is to be Drawer of your Deeds and Fame My glory wou'd be finnish'd tho' yours Lame Yet you 't is Dangerous to pourtray right For he who wou'd do that must see you fight Then bear you Chearfull'st Look and Noblest Grace In danger you have still most steady Face ' Midst fire and Deaths seem Deathless Deity VVhilst you the circling Flames but Glorify And who wou'd see you then must dare to dye Cowards who Boldly'st charge a Prince's Ear For boon of Honour wou'd not then press near But what to you more honour dos afford You tho' a Prince yet dare to keep your VVord In Fight no more then in strict Vertue you A Second or a Councellor can know He then became your greatest Enemy Who to save life wou'd let your Honour dye From danger to keep you worst Injury You alwayes cou'd forgive and less wou'd blame The Traytor to your life then to your Fame I fear Great Sir I so have injur'd you For who can set forth what you did can do Your long Wing'd Honour takes such Eagles Flight Shee leaves her blind pursuer out of sight And after all his gazeing all he 'll find Your dazling Sun makes
but outside brow Thick Sculs frought with but out-side confidence Have seldom need of inside bashful sense They speak as eat but from their lib'ral Prince Honey of Courts makes there such dronish swarms Mens impudence is wealth there Womens charms But now to modesty I 've lost pretence Daring Sir at your praise is impudence Sawcy Address to Majesty Offence But you the highest humblest of your Court Have pardon'd Millions of this ins'lent sort No modest Writer but with Pen in 's hand Thinks he has priviledge to mak's Prince stand Poems are but Petitions too in Verse Which Authors sufferings and wants reherse Large Portions they of Fame to Princes give That you in Verse and they may by it live Like sensless Courtiers with mean flattery Think so Kings grace they do not beg but buy Bold wretches to your Memory still sue For promises you gave to them ne're due And beg to be remembred still by you A Princess easy'st boon forgetfulness I only beg for which too none else press Such grant too without asking Princes give By your forgetting I new way shou'd thrive To be forgotten Sir were grace to me The only ruin'd by your Memory Worst crime is still rejecting Heavens grace Worst punishment is not to see Gods Face None wretched are who can come where you are Wretch is damn'd here who must that joy forbear You are but terrible abroad to Foes Your loaded Forehead here no terrour shows You do not rule your Subjects with your brows With no proud threats your Neighbours e're alarme Nor seek vain stile to do your Subjects harm Conqu'ring abroad brings desolation home Old Subjects are enslav'd new to o'recome Like Torrents Kings o'rethrow own banks to roam But your smooth stream seeks not to overthrow Her own Banks that to strange Coasts it may go Your streams of power on own Banks ne'er intrude Yet yours Gods overflowing hands similitude You like your Thames Sir keep a temp'rate Course The Shore you glide by 's fatten'd not the worse Your even Stream seeks but to keep its own From choaking Sands which wou'd its current drown But not to undermine its wealthy Coast O'reflowing streams by their own Banks are lost The more abroad the stream of pow'r o'reflows Drier and narrower at home it grows Dividing do's oft name and current lose Branching of Pow'r dreins but the first Spring-head Foraign o'reflowing makes home dry and dead Making a War is making Victors less And getting power but at their wealths decrease Let other vain Kings their Wild gaddings boast What treasures they of men for blows have lost The cheapest Victories too dearly cost 'T is sensless glory got by growing poor Making new Subjects by the loss of more Kings when they kill are Men Gods when they give Not Deaths or Rapin bounty makes Kings live Fierceness but makes men fly Gold makes Men kneel 'T is plyant Gold that Conquers not hard steel More pow'r Man has the less 't is to be us'd Using pow'r ill God whence it came's abus'd Subject's a Rascal whose unequal pow'r In Duel-war has made him Conquerour Who with the longest Sword chooses to fight Nor cause nor heart 't is to be fear'd has right 'T is infamous by meer strength to o'recome Becoming not a King but wrestling Groom Kings who exceed Commission to 'em giv'n Are themselves Traitours to the Prince of Heav'n And who do's not to execute Heav'ns will In sparing Traitours Blood his own do's spill God great Example to Vicegerents gave When he threw down the first Rebellious slave The Rebels punishments good Subjects save And Justice done reprieves near dying Laws Half ty'd up choak'd by the new good old Cause But Death's the only slow reward you give With Heavenly patience you for Stiff-necks grieve Whilst Hypocrites to you use self deceit Who wou'd cheat a wise God good King himself do's cheat Traitours to you stabs to own Conscience give Ill Life 's worst punishment's to let it live The envious you execute by their reprieve Who for the good you do tho 't were to them wou'd grieve To pardon them will hardly give you leave And guilty Conscience is worst Hangman too Severest Justice to it self will do And Subjects are Self-Felons i th' true Sence Who wou'd destroy a Just and Pard'ning Prince The Life of free-born Man is Liberty And Life of Liberty is Monarchy If we best first Man's service thraldom call What must it be to serve then always all The Government o' th' Skies ours imitates Rul'd by one single pow'r and yet three States O might our imitation throughly run Your Godlike Reign Eternally last on Excepting perpetuity alone Our sparing King lives here a Deity Of whom nothing but 's wrath can ever dye 'T is but your Justice do's ill Men incense You for Rebellion leave Slaves no pretence Are Good Great Merciful ev'n to Offence Kings but condemn the Just when they the guilty save Suffering Tyrant Slaves they their own Crowns enslave And Subjects mutiny is madness rage When each for th' publick 'gainst themselves engage For fear of one King set up Hundreds more Who have but pow'r too but to make 'em poor Yet now are saving on unthrifty score So treacherous Trustees take only care To spare the Tenants but to rack the Heir To force releases keep him low and bare But since your Slaves for you too high wou'd grow At their own perils let it e'en be so In spight heap Titles on 'em more and more That since Purse proud they may be honour poor That heaviest Tax of honour none deny A Tax with which all Fools most Knaves comply A Tax to beggar their Posterity So Pyramids more high they grow grow less Their heighth is but their substances decrease FINIS Errata in the Poem to the King Page the 1. Line 8. for Defaming Profaning p. 7. l. 15. for passs'd by by all pass'd by p. 8. l. 11. for World to World too p. 14. l. 10. for honour to honour too Errata in the Dukes Page 5. Line 9. for brake break p. 8. l. 9. for our is ours is p. 11. l. 8 for your fate your fates p. 15. l. 8. for praises praise p. 22. l. 2. for help to help me to p. 24. l. 17. for conj'ring conqu'ring p. 26. l. 6. for Jock-friends Foe-friends p. 29. l. 9. for but in but here TO THE DUKE Written in his Absence occasion'd from the sight of some Defamatory Libels on Him THe Brave and Just life to himself does give Ready'st to dye is fittest still to live Nor Virtues nor the Crimes of Ancestors Can truly magnify or lessen Ours Why should Syres Mothers Sisters or Wives Sin Be a Reproach to him that 's next of Kin Man may to Stock or Blood Related be From Friends ill Fame Ignoble Vice yet free Virtue is still the best Nobility Justice and Truth most lasting Heraldry Let Jockeys Huntsmen of long Stocks take heed Value a Horse or Dogg but for their Breed