Skialetheia. Or, A shadowe of truth, in certaine epigrams and satyres

SKIALETHEIA . OR , A shadowe of Truth , in certaine Epigrams and Satyres .

At London , Printed by I. R. for Nicholas Ling , and are to bee solde at the little West doore of Poules . 1598.

To the Reader . Insteede of Ingling termes for thy good will . Reader fall to , reade , iest , and carpe thy fill .

EPIGRAMS . Prooemium . 1. AS in the greatest of societies , The first beginners , like good natur'd soules , Beare with their neighbors poore infirmities : But after , when ambition controules Theyr calme proceedings , they imperiously " ( As great things still orewhelme themselues with weight Enuy their countrimens prosperity , And in contempt of poorer fates delight . So Englands wits ( now mounted the full height , ) Hauing confounded monstrous barbarisines , Puft vp by conquest , with selfe-wounding spight , Engraue themselues in ciuill warres Abismes , Seeking by all meanes to destroy each other , The vnhappy children of so deere a mother . To the Reader . 2. Whose hap shall be to reade these pedler rimes , Let them expect no elaborat foolery , Such as Hermaphroditize these poore times , With wicked scaldiests , extreame gullerie : Bunglers stande long in tinck'ring their trim Say , I le onely spit my venome , and away . Of Titus . 3. Titus oft vaunts his gentry euery where , Blazoning his coate , deriuing's pedegree ; What needest thou daily Titus iade mine eare ? I will beleeue thy houses auncestry ; If that be auncient which we doe forget , Thy gentry is so ; none can remember it . To Liuia . 4. Liuia , I kon thee thanke , when thou doost kisse Thou turn'st thy cheeke : see what good nature is ! For well thou knowest thy breaths infection , Able to turne my stomack vpside downe . Which when I thinke on , but for manners sake , I 'ld pray thee thy cheeke too away to take . Of Matho . 5. Matho in credite bound to pay a debt , His word engagde him for , doth still replie , That he will aunswere it with sophistrie , And so deferres daily to aunswere it : Experience now hath taught me sophistrie , He gaue me his word ; that is , he coussend me . Of Faber . 6. Since marriage , Faber's prouder then before , Yfayth his wife must take him a hole lower . Of a railing humour . 7. ( Good Lord ) that men should haue such kennel wits To thinke so well of a scald railing vaine , Which soone is vented in beslauered writs . As when the cholicke in the gutts doth straine , With ciuill conflicts in the same embrac't , But let a fart , and then the worst is past . To Deloney . 8. Like to the fatall ominous Rauen which tolls , The sicke mans dirge within his hollow beake , So euery paper-clothed post in Poules , To thee ( Deloney ) mourningly doth speake , And tells thee of thy hempen tragedie , The wracks of hungry Tyburne naught to thine . Such massacre's made of thy balladry , And thou in griefe , for woe thereof maist pine : At euery streets end Fuscus rimes are read , And thine in silence must be buried . Of Paule . 9. Paule daily wrongs me , yet he daily sweares He wisheth me as well as to his soule : I know his drift , to damne that he naught cares To please his body : therefore ( good friend Paule ) If thy kind nature will affoord me grace , Heereafter loue me in thy bodies place . Of Syluio . 10. Syluio the Lawyer , hunting for the same Of a wise man , studies Phylosophie , And odly in his singularitie , From being odde , thinks wisedome hath her name . So long hath he turnde ouer Scaliger , Old Cardan and the other chimick wits , Which haue to after-times demisde their writs , That a fift Element he doth auerre : Deserues not he to make the wise men euen , Who odly thus makes odd the Nerues of heauen ? To Gue . 11. Gue , hang thy selfe for woe , since gentlemen Are now growne cunning in thy apishnes : Nay , for they labour with their foolishnes Thee to vndoe , procure to hang them then : It is a strange seeld seene vncharitie , To make fooles of themselues to hinder thee . Of Cotta . 12. Behold a wonder , neuer seene before , Yonder 's Cotta's picture , dauncing trenchmore . Of the same . 13. I saw not Cotta thys halfe yeere before , When he was angry that I spoke not to him , He hath no reason to take it so sore , Being so painted that I did not know him . To Licus . 14. Licus , thou often tell'st me iestingly , I am a fine man , and so tyrannously Hast thou now tired that phrase , that euery one Is a fine man in thine opinion : In thine opinion ? no it 's but thy word , Which doth that fine addition affoord : And yet I see no cause but many may , Be euen as fine as Licus euery way ; In dauncing , vaulting , and in riming too , In theyr conceits there are as good as you . Then wherein is 't that you so farre surpasse Other plaine iades , like Lucius golden Asse ? I heare thee say the foulest day that is , Thou art shodde in Veluet , and in Naples bisse : Nay then I yeeld , for who will striue in it , May haue fine clothes , but a most filthy wit . Of Zeno . 15. Zeno desirous of the idle fame Of Stoicke resolution , recklesly Seemes to esteeme of good report or blame ; So prouing himselfe dull , most foolishly , To euery thing he heares , he saith he cares not : He cares not for his booke , nor yet for wit , For pleasant catch-fooles in like sort he spares not To sweare hee 's carelesse , carelesse to forget Or thinke vpon his dutie , soules comfort ; Carelesse to thriue , or liue in decencie ; Carelesse of vertuous , and a good consort , Carelesse of wisedome , and of honestie ; To all this carelesnes , should one declare His fathers death , I am sure he would not care . Of Riuus . 16. Once Riuus saw a pretty lasse , And liquorous tooth'd desir'd to tast , But knowing not how to bring 't to passe , He vow'd to hange himselfe in hast : I feard him not , the wench was gone , And he was loth to hang alone . Of Clodius . 17. Clodius oft sayth he hath chaleng'd beene by many , But neuer tells me he hath answered any . Of Curio . 18. Curio threats my death in an Epigrame , Yfayth hee 'le eate his word , he is too blame , And yet I think hee 'le write ; then ware of bleeding , Nay feare not , he writes nothing worth the reading . Of Faustus . 19. Faustus in steede of grace , saith Fuscus rimes , Oh gracelesse manners ! oh vnhallowed times ! To Candidus . 20. Friend Candidus , thou often doost demaund , What humours men by gulling vnderstand : Our English Martiall hath full pleasantly , In his close nips describde a gull to thee : I 'le follow him , and set downe my conceit What a Gull is : oh word of much receit ! He is a gull , whose indiscretion , Cracks his purse strings to be in fashion ; He is a gull , who is long in taking roote In barraine soyle , where can be but small fruite : He is a gull , who runnes himselfe in debt , For twelue dayes wonder , hoping so to get ; He is a gull , whose conscience is a block , Not to take interest , but wastes his stock : He is a gull , who cannot haue a whore , But brags how much he spends vpon her score : He is a gull , that for commoditie Payes tenne times ten , and sells the same for three : He is a gull , who passing finicall , Peiseth each word to be thetoricall : And to conclude , who selfe conceitedly , Thinkes al men guls , ther 's none more gull then he . Of Procus . 21. Procus insteede of more fitting discourse To entertaine his Mistris eares withall , Tells her a long tale of a rosted horse , Of a great brabble did to him befall ; When she demaunds the occasion of the braule , He in a gallant brauery , gull-like swore , The reason that he foorth with him did fall , Was , for the other grutcht him of his whore : ( Ye who doe loue your loues better conceit , ) Iudge if this gull deserued his mistris fauour , Who thus his goatish humours did relate : Or what paine wish you for this rude behauiour ? Whomsoe're he marries may she a whore proue , For this speech shewes that he a whore doth loue . To Clodius . 22. I prethee Clodius , tell me what 's the reason , Thou doost expect I should salute thee first , I haue sized in Cambridge , and my friends a season Some exhibition for me there disburst : Since that , I haue beene in Goad his weekly role , And beene acquaint with Mounsieur Littleton , I haue walkt in Poules , and duly din'd at noone , And sometimes visited the dauncing schoole : Then how art thou my better , that I should Speake alwaies first , as I incroch faine would ? But in a whore-house thou canst swagger too , Clodius good day ; t is more then I can doo . Of Sextilius . 23. Sextilius sigh'd , for Leuca let a fart , Hath not the youth a meruailous kind hart ? Of Fuscus . 24. When Fuscus first had taught his Muse to scold , He gloried in her rugged vaine so much , That euery one came to him , heare her should , First Victor , then Cinna , nor did he grutch To let both players , and artificers , Deale with his darling , as if confident , None of all these he did repute for Lechers , Or thought her face would all such lusts preuent ; But how can he a bawdes furname refuse , Who to all sorts thus prostitutes his Muse ? Of Gnatho . 25. My Lord most court-like lyes in bed till noone , Then , all high-stomackt riseth to his dinner , Falls straight to Dice , before his meate be downe , Or to disgest , walks to some femall sinner . Perhaps fore-tyrde he gets him to a play , Comes home to supper , and then falls to dice , There his deuotion wakes till it be day , And so to bed , where vntill noone he lies . This is a Lords life , simple folke will sing . A Lords life ? what to trot so foule a ring ? Yet thus he liues , and what 's the greatest griefe , Gnatho still sweares he leads true vertues life . To Pollio . 26. Th' art a fine fellow trust me Pollio , And euery one reputes thee so to be , Both for thy ingles face , and goodly show , Of thyne apparraile and thy naperie : Then , for thou pertly knowes to wagge thy head , Like some old palsey-strucken vsurer , Chiefely , for that this Christmas thou hast led An vnthrifts life , ( gramercy Creditor , ) But for this last thou must be faine to goe , Into the country for a yeere or two . Of the same . 27. Pollio at length's fallne in my good conceit , Not for his wanton face and curled haire , Nor his fatte buttocke , nor that I delight In his french Galliard , which is nothing rare , Nor for that others thinke him to be so , ( For others credits cannot better me , ) But for he thinks himselfe a fine fellow , For his owne state who better knowes then hee ? Of Zeno . 28. Zeno would faine th' old widdow Aeagle haue , Trust me hee 's wise , for shee is rich and braue : But Zeno , Zeno , shee will none of you , In my mind shee 's the wiser of the two . Of Arion . 29. Arions thoughts are growne so musicall , That all his talke's of crotchets , and of quauers , His very words to sembriefe time doe fall , And blowing of his nose of musicke sauours : Hee 'le tell you of well fretting of a Lute , Euen til you fret , and of the harmonie , Is either in a still Cornet or Flute , Of rests , and stops , and such like trumperie , Yet loues he more , for all sweet musick sence , His mistris belly , then these instruments . Of Chrysogonus . 30. Chrysogonus each morning by his glasse , Teacheth a wrinckled action to his face , And with the same he runnes into the street , Each one to put in feare that he doth meet : I pry thee tell me ( gentle Chrysogone ) What needs a borrowed bad face to thine owne ? Of Torques . 31. Torques a Knight , and of indifferent liuing , Is neyther free of house-keeping , nor giuing : Yet stands he in the Debet booke vncrost : Wonder not man , he keepes a whore to his cost . Of Lais . 32. Wanton young Lais hath a pretty note , Whose burthen is , pinch not my petticoate : Not that she feares close nips , for by the rood , A priuy pleasing nip will cheare her blood : But she which longs to tast of pleasures cup , In nipping would her petticoate weare vp . Of Fidens . 33. Fidens instructs young Gentlemen to play , Who teach his wife , they get true fingring : But she learnes to play false ; no meruaile , they Of a Maister , she of Schollers got her learning . Of Orpheus . 34. Orpheus hath wed a young lusty wife , And all day long vpon his Lute doth play : Doth not this fellow lead a merry life , Who playes continually both night and day ? Of Cotta . 35. I wonder ( Cotta ) Paynters Art can like thee , Who drew thy picture being nothing like thee . Of Metius . 36. Metius of late hath greatly cosend me , I tooke him for an earnest Catholike , He talk'd so much of almes and charity ; But I was mightily deceau'd belike . He praiseth charity and almes , because He was made Barrister for almes , not lawes . Of the same . 37. With what conscience can Metius sell law deare , When of meere almes he was made Barrister ? To Licus . 38. Licus , thou art deceau'd in saying , that I me a fine man : thou saist thou knowst not what . He 's a fine fellow who is neate and fine , Whose locks are kem'd , & neuer a tangled twine , Who smels of Musk , Ciuet , and Pomander , Who spends , and out-spends many a pound a yeare , Who piertly iets , can caper , daunce , and sing , Play with his Mistris singers , her hand wring , Who companying with wenches nere is still : But either skips or mowes , or prates his fill , Who is at euery play , and euery night Sups with his Ingles , who can well recite , Whatsoeuer rimes are gracious ( Licus ) leaue , Iniure not my content then , to bereaue My fortune of her quiet : I am I , But a sine fellow in my fantasie Is a great trouble , trouble me not then , For a fine fellow , is a fine foole mongsemen . Of Chrestina . 39. I told Chrestina I would lie with her , When she with an old phrase doth me aduise , To keepe my selfe from water and from fier , And she would keepe me from betwixt her thighs , That there is water I doe make no doubt , But I l'e be loth ( wench ) to be fired out . Of Naeuia . 40. Naeuia is one while of the Innes of Court , Toyling in Brooke , Fitzherbert , and in Dyer : Another while th' exchange he doth resort , Moyling as fast , a seller , and a buyer : Will not he thriue ( think yee ) who can deuise , Thus to vnite the law and merchandise ? Doubtlesse he will , or cosen out of doubt ; What matter's that ? his law will beare him out . Of the same . 41. Naeuia's a Merchant , and a Gentleman : That is , scarce honest , liue he how he can . Of the same 42. Pardon me ( Reader ) I will not bewray Who Naeuia is , not that I feare to say , But that he should be punishd I am loth , For engrossing occupations as he doth . He is a Lawyer , and a Merchant to , And shortly will I doubt haue more to do : He is a busie fellow , and may be A knaue Promoter for his honesty . Of Clodius . 43. Clodius me thinks lookes passing big of late , With Dunstons browes , and Allens Cutlacks gate : What humours haue possest him so , I wonder , His eyes are lightning , and his words are thunder : What meanes the Bragart by his alteration ? He knows he 's known too wel , for this fond fashion : To cause him to be feard : what meanes he than ? Belike , because he cannot play the man . Yet would be awde , he keepes this filthy reuell , Stalking and roaring like to Iobs great deuill . Of Phrix . 44. Phrix hath a nose ; who doubts what ech man knows But what hath Phrix know-worth besides his nose ? In Zelotypum . 45. Thy wife so nimph-like sitting at the board , Why frown'st thou that I look on her ? good Lord . What sinne is 't to looke on a pretty lasse ! We look on heauen , the Sun & Moons bright face . Would'st haue me turne away , as I did see Some filthy slut , or lewd deformity ? Why , Iealousie her selfe may suffer sight ; Sight cannot cuckold thee , nor do thee spight : If thow'lt not haue her look'd on by thy guests , Bid none but Harpers hence-forth to thy feasts . Of Gellia . 46. The world finds fault with Gellia , for she loues A skip-lack fidler , I hold her excus'd , For louing him , sith she her selfe so proues : What , she a fidler ? tut she is abus'd ? No in good faith ; what fidle hath she vs'd ? The Viole Digambo is her best content , For twixt her legs she holds her instrument . To the Reader . 47. Excuse me ( Reader ) though I now and than , In some light lines doe shew my selfe a man , Nor be so sowre , some wanton words to blame , They are the language of an Epigrame . To Lydia . 48. ( Lydia ) so mote I thee thou art not faire , A plaine brownetta when thou art at best : Yet darst not thou come forth into the ayre , When no wind stirres , and Sunne 's hid in the west . But mask'd forsooth , I prethy what 's thy reason , That hauing ( God he knowes ) no faire to loose , Thou hid'st that pitteous None so out of season ? Oh th' art a mummer , and perhaps dost choose , A faire calme euen as fittest for thy gaine : Sayest thou me so ? nay , then we 'le haue about , Come , trip the dice , haue at your box ( Madame ) I le cast at all , for sure I goe not out . Nothing but mum ? nay then we are agreed , Be I well chanc'd , my chance may be to speed . To Cotta . 49. Be not wrath , Cotta , that I not salute thee , I vs'd it whilst I worthy did repute thee : Now thou art made a painted Saint , and I Cotta will not commit idolatry . To Women . 50. Yee that haue beauty and withall no pitty , Are like a prick-song-lesson without ditty . Of Chrestina . 51. Talke bawdery and Chrestina spets and spals , So much her chast thoughts hate it , tut that 's false , She loues it well , wherfore then should she spet ? Her teeth doe water but to heare of it . Of Pansa . 52. Fine spruce yong Pansa's growne a malcontent , A mighty malcontent though young and spruce , As heresie he shuns all merriment , And turn'd good husband , puts forth sighs to vse , Like-hate-man Timon in his Cell , he sits Misted with darknes like a smoaky roome , And if he be so mad to walke the streetes , To his sights life , his hat becomes a toombe . What is the cause of this melancholly , His father's dead : no , such newes reuiues him , Wants he a whore ? nor that , loues he ? that 's folly , Mount his high thoughts ? oh no , then what grieues him ? Last night which did our Ins of court men call In silken sutes like gawdy Butterflies , To paint the Torch-light sommer of the hall , And shew good legs , spite of slops-smothering thies He passing from his chamber through the Court , Did spoile a paire of new white pumps with durt Of Cornelius . 53. See you him yonder , who sits o're the stage , With the Tobacco-pipe now at his mouth ? It is Cornelius that braue gallant youth , Who is new printed to this fangled age : He weares a Ierkin cudgeld with gold lace , A profound slop , a hat scarce pipkin high , For boots , a paire of dagge cases ; his face , Furr'd with Cads-beard : his poynard on his thigh . He wallows in his walk his slop to grace , Sweares by the Lord , daines no salutation But to some iade that 's sick of his owne fashion . As farewell sweet Captaine , or ( boy ) come apace : Yet this Sir Beuis , or the fayery Knight , Put vp the lie because he durst not fight . Of Issa . 54. Issa from me to a player tooke her way , No meruaile , for she alwaies lou'd to play . To Mira . 55. Many aske Mira , why I nam'd thee so : Let them aske Nature why she fram'd thee so . De Ignoto . 56. There 's an odd fellow , ( i' le not tell his name , Because from my lines he shal get no fame : ) Reading mine Epigrams bathes euery limb , In angry sweat swearing that I meane him : Content thy selfe I write of better men , Thou art no worthy subiect for my pen . Of Nigrina . 57. Why should Nigrina weare her mask so much ? Her skins lawn's not so fine , so soone to staine , Her tendrest poultry may endure the touch , Her face , face and out-face the wind againe : The cherry of her lip's a winter Cherry , Then weather-proof , & needs no masks defence : Her cheeks best fruit's a black , no Mulberry , But fearelesse of sharp gustes impouerishments : And to be briefe , she being all plaine Ione , Why is she mask'd to keepe that where is none ? O sir , she 's painted , and you know the guise , Pictures are curtaind from the vulgar eyes . Of Drus . 58. Drus for a Cuckold , and miserable's fam'd , May not he well a hard-head then be nam'd ? To Mira . 59. Thou fearst I loue thee , for I prayse thee so : Should I dispraise thee , what wouldst feare I trow ? De Ignoto . 60. You fellow thinks mine Epigrams him meane , Then let me write of euery bawd and queane . Of Nigrina . 61. Painted Nigrina vnmask'd comes ne're in sight , Because light wenches care not for the light . Of the same . 62. Painted Nigrina with the picture face , Hauing no maske thinks she 's without grace , So with one case she doth another case , Doth not her maske become her then apace ? Of Bassus . 63. Eloquent Bassus speakes all with a grace , Not so much but good morrow , and good night : I wonder when the Somner did him cite , For his sweet sinne , how he spake in that case : I am sure he could with no grace well refuse it And worse I doubt with any grace excuse it . To Mira . 64. Thou fear'st I am in loue with thee ( my Deare ) I prethy feare not , It comes with a feare . Of Nigrina . 65. Because Nigrina hath a painted face , Many suspect her to be light and base : I see no reason to repute her such , For out of doubt she will abide the tuch . Of Gellia . 66. Gellia intic'd her good-man to the Citty , And often threatneth to giue him the lurch , See how this sweet sinne makes the simplest witty : She ( too prophane ) whilst he is at the church , Ringing the first peale at the greatest bels At home will ring all in with some one els . Ad Crocum . 67. Crocus , thou sai'st that thou do'st know more queans Then many a poore man ears in Autum gleans ? But Crocus , Crocus , if they all know you , I feare I-faith you haue too much to do . Of Caius . 68. As Caius walks the streets , if he but heare A blackman grunt his note , he cries oh rare ! He cries oh rare , to heare the Irishmen Cry pippe , fine pippe , with a shrill accent , when He comes at Mercers chappell ; and , oh rare , At Ludgate at the prisoners plaine-song there : Oh rare sings he to heare a Cobler sing , Or a wassaile on twelfe night , or the ring At cold S. Pancras church ; or any thing : He 'le cry , oh rare , and scratch the elbow too To see two Butchers curres fight ; the Cuckoo , Will cry oh rare , to see the champion bull , Or the victorious mastife with crown'd scull : And garlanded with flowers , passing along From Paris-garden he renewes his song , To see my L. Maiors Henchmen ; or to see , ( At an old Aldermans blest obsequie ) The Hospitall boyes in their blew aequipage , Or at a carted bawde , or whore in cage : He 'le cry , oh rare , at a Gongfarmers cart , Oh rare to heare a ballad or a fart : Briefely so long he hath vsde to cry , oh rare , That now that phrase is growne thin & thred-bare , But sure his wit will be more rare and thin , If he continue as he doth begin . To the Reader . 69. Some dainte eare , like a wax-rubd Citty roome , Wil haply blame my Muse for this salt rhume , Thinking her lewd and too vnmaidenly , For dauncing this Iigge so lasciuiously : But better thoughts , more discreet , will excuse This quick Couranto of my merry Muse ; And say she keeps Decorum to the times , To womens loose gownes suting her loose times : But I , who best her humorous pleasance know , Say , that this mad wench when she iesteth so Is honester then many a sullen one , Which being more silent thinks worse being alone : Then my quick-sprighted lasse can speake : for who Knowes not the old said saw of the Still Sow . Conclusion to the Reader . 70. ( Reader ) when thou hast read this mad-cap stuffe , Wherein my Muse swaggers as in her ruffe : I know these Orphants shal be soone renounced , Of euery one , and vnto death denounced : I know thow'lt doome them to th' Apotheta , To wrap Sope in , and Assifoetida : And iustly to : for thou canst not misuse , More then I will , these bastards of my Muse : I know they are passing filthy , scuruey lines , I know they are rude , harsh , and vnsauory rimes : Fit to wrap playsters , and odd vnguents in , Reedifiers of the wracks of Synne . Viewing this sin-drownd world , I purposely , Phisick'd my Muse , that thus vnmannerly , She might beray our folly-soyled age , And keepe Decorum on a comick stage , Bringing a foule-mouth Iester who might sing To rogues , the story of the lousie King . I care not what the world doth think , or say , There lies a morral vnder my leane play : And like a resolute Epigrammatist , Holding my pen , my Rapier in my fist : I know I shall wide-gaping Momes conuince . My Muse so armed is a carelesse Prince .

SATYRE PREludium . FIe on these Lydian tunes which blunt our sprights And turne our gallants to Hermaphrodites : Giue me a Doricke touch , whose Semphony , And dauncing aire may with affinity Moue our light vaulting spirits and capering . Woo Alexander from lewd banquetting To armes . Bid Haniball remember Cannas , And leaue Salapian Tamyras embrace . Hence with these fidlers , whose oyle-buttred lines , Are Panders vnto lusts , and food to sinnes , Their whimpring Sonnets , puling Elegies Slaunder the Muses ; make the world despise , Admired poesie , marre Resolutions ruffe , And melt true valour with lewd ballad stuffe . Heere one's Elegiack pen patheticall , His parting from his Mistris doth bewaile : Which when young gallant Mutio hath perus'd , His valour 's crestfalne , his resolues abusd , For whatsoe're his courage erst did moue , He 'le goe no voyage now to leaue his Loue . Another with his supple passion Meaning to moue his Pigsney to compassion , Makes puisne Lucius in a simpathy In loue with 's pibald Laundres by and by . A third that falls more roundly to his worke , Meaning to moue her were she Iew or Turke : Writes perfect Cat and fidle , wantonly , Tickling her thoughts with masking bawdry : Which read to Captaine Tucca , he doth sweare , And scratch , and sweare , and scratch to heare His owne discourse discours'd : and by the Lord It 's passing good : oh good ! at euery word : When his Cock-sparrow thoughts to itch begin , He with a shrug sweares't a most sweet sinne . Some others Lady Muse is comicall , Thalia to the back , nay back and all , And she with many a salt La volto iest Edgeth some blunted teeth , and fires the brest Of many an old cold gray-beard Cittizen , Medea like making him young againe ; Who comming from the Curtaine sneaketh in , To some odde garden no●ed house of sinne . But oh worse yet ! for some Capritcious humor Making an issue of his vlcerous tumor . Some prophane Clodian pen daring display ( Like connicatching ) bawdries Orgia , With the prouost Martiall , ransacks euery roome Of a vaulting house , and ribbald doth presume , With Midwife Albert , or the womans booke To anatomize each corner , and fond nooke . Let Rablais with his durtie mouth discourse No longer blush , for they 'le write ten times worse : And Aretines great wit be blam'd no more , They 'le storie forth the errant arrant whore : And speaking painters excuse Titian , For his Ioues loues ; and Elephanticke vaine . Thus all our Poets as they had carousde A health to Circes , are in hogsties housde , Or els transformd to Goates lasciuiously , Filthing chast eares with theyr pens Gonorrhey , For euen the staliest and most generous , The heroicke Poeme is lasciuious , Which midst of Mars his field , & hote alarmes , Will sing of Cupids chiualrie and armes . The Satyre onely and Epigramatist , ( Concisde Epigrame , and sharpe Satyrist ) Keepe diet from this surfet of excesse , Tempring themselues from such licenciousnes . The bitter censures of their Critticke spleenes , Are Antidotes to pestilentiall sinnes , They heale with lashing , seare luxuriousnes , They are Philosophicke true Cantharides To vanities dead flesh . An Epigrame Is popish displing , rebell flesh to tame : A plaine dealing lad , that is not afraid To speake the truth , but calls a iade , a iade . And Mounsieur Guulard was not much too blame , When he for meat mistooke an Epigrame , For though it be no cates , sharpe sauce it is , To lickerous vanitie , youths sweet amisse . But oh the Satyre hath a nobler vaine , He 's the Strappado , rack , and some such paine To base lewd vice ; the Epigram's Bridewell , Some whipping cheere : but this is follies hell . The Epigram's like dwarfe Kings scurrill grace , A Satyre's Chester to a painted face ; It is the bone-ach vnto lechery , To Acolastus it is beggery : It is the scourge , the Tamberlaine of vice , The three square Tyborne of impieties . But to come neere the verses of our time , It is ( oh scuruey ) to a Lenten rime ; It is the grand hisse to a filthy play , T is peoples howts and showts at a pot fray . Itch farther yet , yet nerer to them , fie Their wits haue got my Muse with Tympanie : And with their loose tayld penns to let it loose , It 's like a Syring to a Hampshire Goose . These critique wits which nettle vanitie , Are better farre then foode to foppery : And I dare warrant that the hangingst brow , The sowrest Stoicke that will scarce allow A riming stone vpon his fathers graue , ( Though he no reason haue no rime to haue : ) The stricktest ( Plato ) that for vertues health : Will banish Poets forth his common-wealth . Will of the two affoord the Satyre grace , Before the whyning loue-song shall haue place : And by so much his night-cap's ouer awde , As a Beadle's better states-man then a Bawde .

Explicit the Satyres flourish before his fencing . Alterius quifert vitia ferendo facit sua . SHall I still mych in silence and giue ayme , To other wits which make court to bright fame ? A schoole boy still , shall I lend eare to other , And myne owne priuate Muses musick smother ? Especially in this sinne leapered age , Where euery Player vice comes on the stage : Maskt in a vertuous robe ? and fooles doe sit More honored then the Prester Iohn of wit ? Where vertue , like a common gossop shieldes Vice with her name , and her defects ore-guilds : No no , my Muse , be valiant to controule , Play the scold brauely , feare no cucking-stoole , Begall thy spirit , like shrill trumpets clangor , Vent forth th'impatience , and allarme thine anger : Gainst sinnes inuasions , rende the foggie clowde , whose al black wombe far blacker vice doth shrowd Tell Gyant greatnes a more great did frame , Th' imaginary Colosse of the same ; And then expostulate why Titus should Make shewe of Aetnas heat , yet be as cold As snow-drownd Athos in his frozen zeale , Both to Religion and his Common-weale ? Or why should Caelius iniure thrift so much , As to entitle his extortion such ? Or desperat Drus cloke the consusion , Of heady rage with resolution , Pale trembling Matho dies his milke-staind liuer In colour of a discreet counsell-giuer : And coole aduisement : yet the world doth know , Hee 's a rancke coward : but who dares tell him so ? The world 's so bad that vertue 's ouer-awde , And forst poore soule to become vices bawde : Like the old morrall of the comedie , Where Conscience fauours Lucars harlotry . In spight of valour martiall Anthony , Doth sacrifice himselfe to lecherie : Wasting to skin & bones ( true map of ruth , ) Yet termes it solace , and a trick of youth . Oh world , oh time , that euer men should be So blinde besotted with hipocrisie : Poyson to call an wholsome Antidote , And made carouse the same , although they know 't . How now my Muse , this is right womans fashion , To fall from brawling to a blubbering passion ? Haue done haue done , and to a nimbler key , Set thy winde instrument , and sprightly play . Thys leaden-heeled passion is to dull , To keepe pace with this Satyre-footed gull : This mad-cap world , this whirlygigging age : Thou must haue words compact of fire & rage : Tearms of quick Camphire & Salt-peeter phrases , As in a myne to blow vp the worlds graces , And blast her anticke apish complements . Her iugling tricks and mists which mock the sence , Make Catiline or Alcibiades , To seeme a Cato , or a Socrates . This vizar-fac't pole-head dissimulation , This parrafite , this guide to reprobation , Thys squynt-eyde slaue , which lookes two wayes at once , This forkt Dilemma , oyle of passions , Hath so bereyde the world with his foule myre , That naked truth may be suspect a lyer . For when great Foelix passing through the street , Vayleth his cap to each one he doth meet , And when no broome-man that will pray for him , Shall haue lesse truage then his bonnets brim , Who would not thinke him perfect curtesie ? Or the honny-suckle of humilitie ? The deuill he is as soone : he is the deuill , Brightly accoustred to bemist his euill : Like a Swartrutters hose his puffe thoughts swell , With yeastie ambition : Signior Machiauell Taught him this mumming trick , with curtesie T'entrench himselfe in popularitie , And for a writhen face , and bodies moue , Be Barricadode in the peoples loue . Yonder comes Clodius , giue him the salute , An oylie slaue : he angling for repute , Will gently entertaine thee , and preuent Thy worse conceit with many a complement : But turne thy backe , and then he turnes the word , The foul-mouthd knaue wil call thee goodman Tord . Nothing but cossenage doth the world possesse , And stuffes the large armes of his emptines . Make sute to Fabius for his fauour , he Will straight protest of his loues treasurie : Beleeu'st thou him , then weare a motly coate , He 'le be the first man which shall cut thy throat . Come to the Court , and Balthazer affords Fountaines of holy and rose-water words : Hast thou need of him ? & wouldst find him kind ? Nay then goe by , the gentleman is blind . Thus all our actions in a simpathy , Doe daunce an anticke with hypocrisie , And motley fac'd Dissimulation , Is crept into our euery fashion , Whose very titles to are dissembled : The now all-buttockt , and no-bellied Doublet and hose which I doe reuell in , Was my great grandsires when he did begin To wooe my grandame , when hee first bespake her , And witnesse to the ioynture he did make her : ( Witnes some auntient painted history Of Assuerus , Haman , Mardoche . For though some gulls me to beleeue are loth , I know thei 'le credite print , and painted cloth ) Yet , like th' olde Ballad of the Lord of Lorne , Whose last line in King Harries dayes was borne , It still retaines the title of as new , And proper a fashion , as you euer knew . All things are different from their outward show , The very poet , whose standish doth flow With Nectar of Parnassus , and his braine Melts to Castalian dew , and showres wits raine , Yet by his outward coutnaunce doth appeare To haue beene borne in wits dearths decrest yeere . So that Zopirus iudging by his face , Will pronounce Socrates for dull and base . This habite hath false larumd-seeming wonne In our affections , that whatsoere is done Must be newe coynd with slie dissemblance stamp , And giue a sunne-shine title to a lampe . This makes the foisting trauailer to sweare , And face out many a lie within the yeere . And if he haue beene an howre or two aboarde , To spew a little gall : then , by the Lord , He hath beene in both the Indias , East and West , Talkes of Guiana , China , and the rest : The straights of Gibraltare , and Aenian , Are but hard by , no nor the Magellane , Mandeuile , Candish , sea-experienst Drake Came neuer neere him , if he truly crake ; Nor euer durst come where he layd his head , For out of doubt he hath discouered Some halfe a dozen of th'infinity Of Anaxarchus worlds . Like foppery The Antiquary would perswade vs to : He shewes a peece of blacke-iack for the shooe , Which old Aegeus bequeathd his valiant sonne : Apeece of pollisht mother of pearle's the spoone Cupid eate pappe with ; and he hath a dagger Made of the sword wherwith great Charles did swag ger . Oh that the whip of fooles , great Aretine , Whose words were squibs , and crackers euery line , Liu'd in our dayes , to scourge these hypocrites , Whose taunts may be like gobblins and sprights : To haunt these wretches forth that little left them Of ayery wit ; ( for all the rest's bereft them . ) Oh how the varges from his blacke pen wrung , Would sauce the Idiome of the English tongue , Giue it a new touch , liuelier Dialect To heare this two-neckt goose , this falshood checkt . Me thinks I see the pie-bald whoresone tremble To heare of Aretine : he doth dissemble , There is no trust to be had to his quaking , To him once more , and rouse him from his shaking Feauer of fained feare , hold whip and cord , Muse , play the Beadle , a lash at euery word : No , no , let be , he 's a true cosoner still , And like the Cramp-fish darts , euen throgh my quil His slie insinuating poysonous iuice , And doth the same into my Spirit infuse : Me thinks already I applaud my selfe , For nettle-stinging thus this fayery elfe : And though my conscience sayes I merit not Such deere reward , dissembling yet ( God wot ) I hunt for praise , and doe the same expect : Hence ( crafty enchaunter ) welcome base neglect , Scoffes make me know my selfe , I must not erre , Better a wretch then a dissembler . Satyra secunda . HEere coms a Coach ( my Lads ) let 's make a stand , And take a view of blazing starres at hand : Who 's here ? who 's here ? now trust me passing faire , Thai're most sweet Ladies : mary and so they are . Why thou young puisne art thou yet to learne , A harper from a shilling to discerne ? I had thought the last mask which thou caperedst in Had catechiz'd thee from this errors sinne , Taught thee S. Martius stuffe from true gold lace , And know a perfect from a painted face : Why they are Idols , Puppets , Exchange babies , And yet ( thou foole ) tak'st them for goodly Ladies : Where are thine eyes ? But now I call to mind , These can bewitch , and so haue made thee blind ; A compound mist of May deaw and Beane flowre , Doe these Acrasias on thy eye lids powre : Thou art enchaunted ( Publius ) and hast neede Of Hercules , thy reason , to be freede . Consider what a rough worme-eaten table , By well-mix'd colours is made saleable : Or how toad-housing sculs , and old swart bones , Are grac'd with painted toombs , and plated stones : And think withall how scoffe-inspiring faces From dawbing pencils doe deriue their graces : Their beauties are most antient Gentlemen , Fetch'd from the deaw-figs , hens dung , & the beane . Nay , this doth rather prooue them bastard faires , For to so many fathers they are heires , Yet their effronted thoughts adulterate , Think the blind world holds them legitimate . ( Madame ) you gull your selfe , thinking to gull Young puisnes eyes with your ore-varnish'd scull : For now our Gallants are so cunning growne , That painted faces are like pippins knowne : They know your spirits , & your distillations , which make your eies turn diamonds , to charm passions , Your cerusse now growne stale , your skaine of silke , Your philterd waters , and your asses milke , They were plaine asses if they did not know , Quicksiluer , iuyce of Lemmons , Boras too , Allom , oyle Tartar , whites of egges , & gaules Are made the bawdes to morphew , scurffs & scauls Then what s a wench but a quirke , quidlit case , Which makes a Painters pallat of her face ? Or would not Chester sweare her downe that shee Lookt like an Elench , logicke sophistrie ? Or like a new sherifes gate-posts , whose old faces Are furbisht ouer to smoothe times disgraces ? Then how is man turnd all Pygmalion , That knowing these pictures , yet we doate vpon The painted statues , or what fooles are we So grosly to commit idolatry ? What , are we Ethnicks that we honour beasts ? ( They are beasts which paint themselues ) or els papists Whose ouer-fleeting brittle memories Right worshipfull intitle Images ? But be we any thing ; these wenches know We are but fooles to be deluded so : Who for deluding vs , to plague their sinne , Are turnd to counterfaits , which their vncasde skin , Quickly discouers , and to shadowes too , For making louers shadowes as they doo . Is not he fond then which a slip receaues For currant money ? she which thee deceaues With copper guilt is but a slip , and she Will one day shew thee a touch as slippery : She 's counterfait now , and it will goe hard , If e're thou find her currant afterward : A painted wench is like a whore-house signe , The old new slurred ouer : or mix'd wine , Sophisticate , to giue it hew and tast ; A dudgin dagger that 's new scowr'd and glast : Or I could sute her were she not prophane , To a new painted , and churchwarden'd fane : Or generall pardons , which speake gloriously , Yet keepe not touch : or a Popish Iubily . Thus altering natures stamp , they 're altered , From their first purity , innate may denhead : Of simple naked honesty , and truth , And giuen o're to seducing lust and youth : Whose stings when they are blunted , & these freede Then shall they see the horror of this deede : And leauing it their lothsome playstered skins , Shall shew the furrowed riuels of their sins : And now their box complexions are depos'd , Their iaundise looks , and raine-bow like disclos'd , Shall slander them with sicknes e're their time , For pocket-healths , vaine vsage in their prime . Then shall their owly consciences shun light , And thus like Bats shall flutter in the night , Asham'd that any eye should testifie , Their now impouerish'd beauties beggary , Nay , they so far shal be asham'd thereof , That from themselues they shal feare cannon scoffe , And hate to see themselues : all glasses breake , By which before they taught their looks to speake : And parly with their lusts . But I me a foole , Which talk to deafe eares , & dull stocks do schoole : Me thinks the painted Pageant 's out of sight , It 's time to end my lecture then : good night . Satyra tertia . MAry and gup ! haue I then lost my cap ? It shall be a warning for an after-clap , Not that I weigh the tributary due , Of cap and courtship complements , and new Antike salutes , I care not for th'embrace , The Spanish shrug , kiss'd-hand , nor cheuerell face , God saue you sir , good sir , and such like phrases , Pronounc'd with lisping , and affected graces , Moue me no more then t' heare a Parrat cry Her by-roate lesson of like curtesie : But this I wonder , that th' art so estrang'd , And thy old English looks to outlandish chang'd , Howsoe're thy selfe by English birth art freed , Thou hast neede to haue thy looks endenized : With thee I haue beene long time well acquainted : But those beyond-sea looks haue now disioynted Our well knit friendship , for whose sake I doubt Th' art quite turn'd Dutch , or some outlandish lowt , Thou hast cleane forgot thine English tong , & then Art in no state to salute Englishmen : Or else th' hast had some great sicknes of late , Whose tiranny doth so extenuate Thy fraile remembrance , that thou canst not claime Thine old acquaintance , mothers tong , nor name Giuen thee in thy baptisme : for I cannot , I , Impute it vnto pride , Philosophy Hauing so well fore-season'd thy minds caske . Of gulls and fooles I will no question aske , Wherfore they looke so strange , because I know They are but poore in wit , though rich in show . Looke on Panduris , with whom in th'infancy Of my then greene , now riper iudgment , I Was well acquainted : he sir will not speake , Thinking himselfe the better man belike Because his father with bartring , and trucke Of bad greene-sicknes wines , hath heapt vp muck , And for his mother with her greedy gripes , Hath out of neats-feet , chitterlings , and tripes , Scrapt many a durty pound : this is he , That lookes like Guazzo , or pedant grauitie , Spits controuersies , prates of Bellarmine , And yet perhaps nere saw of his a line . Then there is Cynops , whose grand-mother sold Good ale and wigs , in curtesey growne cold , Because his father with a cossening fetch , Purchasd land for him , which his conscience stretch Hath almost sworne the whole world , that the man Is damnd , to make his sonne a gentleman . With them in ranck La volto Publius , Who 's growne a reueller ridiculous : And for his dad with Chimicke vsurie , Turnd yron to sterling , drosse to land and fee , And got so by old horse-shooes , that the foole Enterd himselfe into the dauncing schoole ; Thinks scorne to speake : especially now since H' ath beene a player to a Christmas prince . When these , & such like doe themselues estrange , I neuer muse at theyr fantasticke change : Because they are Phantasmas butterflies , Inconstant , but yet witlesse Mercuries . I know some of their humorous neere of kin , Which scorne to speake to one which hath not bin In one of these last voyages : or to one Which hauing bin there yet ( though he haue none ) Hath not a Cades-beard : though I dare sweare That many a beardlesse chin hath marched where They durst not for their berds come , thogh they dare Come where they will not leaue theyr beardes one haire But I doe wonder what estrangeth thee , New cast in mold of deepe philosophy : Thee whom that Queene hath taught to moderate , Thy mounting thought , nor to be eleuate With puffingst fortunes ? though ( for ought I know ) Thy fortunes are none such to puffe thee so . How like a Musherom art thou quickly growne , I knew thee when thou war'dst a thred-bare gowne : Siz'd eighteene pence a weeke , and so did I , As then thou wert faine of my company , Of mine acquaintance glad ; how art thou altred ? Or wherein 's thine estate so bettered ? Thou art growne a silken dauncer , and in that Turn'd to a caper , skipst from loue to hate , To daunce Ma piu , French-galliard , or a measure , Doost thou esteeme this cunning such a treasure ? Neuer be proud of that , for dost thou know , That Laureat Batchelor Del Phrygio ? He with a spade-beard can full mannerly , Leade the olde measures to a company Of bare chind-boyes , and with his nimble feete , Make our fore-wearied Counsellours to sweat : For enuie at his strange actiuitie , Because they cannot do 't as well as he . But then a simple reueller , thou art more , Thou hast had som doings with the prince d'Amore And playd a noble mans part in a play : Now out vpon thee Fabian , I dare say , If Florus should alledge that cause of pride , Hisse him thou wouldst to death for 't : and beside , thou mightst haue had som doings with that prince which wold haue made thee lesse proude euer since . Yet art thou stately , and so stately to , That thou forget'st thy state , and wilt not know Them which knowe thee and it : so long thou hast True follower beene of fashions , that at last Thou art growne thy selfe a fashion : for to day Thou art common , popular , in vse euery way Fitting the various world , but by and by Thou art disusde , growst stale , and too proudly Wringst thy selfe from the humorous worlds conceit , Now art thou like the wide breech , doublet strait , But er 't be long , thou wilt estranged be , Like the French quarter slop , or the gorbelly , The long stockt hose , or close Venetian . Now fie vpon this pride , which makes wise men Looke like expired leases ; out of doubt Thou wert wise , but thy lease of wit is out : For such fond toyes thou hast estrangde thy selfe For vaine braue Bragardisme , and durtie pelfe , And yet I thinke , thy pelfe with thee 'le dispence To kisse the Counter , ere t will bale thee thence . These foolish toyes haue quite disparaged Philosophy thy Mistris , and t is said , Thou art like to Damasippus , for thy hayre Precisely cut , makes thee Philosopher , And nothing ( God wot ) else . But what care I ? Why should I reason with thy surquedry ? I smile at thy Atturneys silken pride , Tufttaffeta state , and make my Muse deride , In these her scoffing rimes thy beeing strange , And haue good pastime at thy motley change . Prethee be proude still , strange still , stately still , And with thy winde my Muses organs fill , To sound an Antheme of thy folly foorth , It wil be merry musicke , richly worth The laughing at , for I will play a Iigge , And thou shalt daunce , my Muse shall play the rig Once in her dayes , but shee shall quittance thee , For thy contemptible inconstancie . Well , if thou wilt speake , so , and so farewell , If not , I thinke thee worse foole then I 'le tell . WHat a scald humour is this iealous care , Which turnes a man to a familiare ? See how Trebatio yonder haunts his wife , And dares not loose sight of her for his life : And now there 's one speakes to her , mark his grace , See how he basts himselfe in his owne greace : Note what a squint askew he casts , as he Already saw his heads hornd-armory . Foule weather ielousie to a forward spring , Makes weeds grow ranke , but spoyles a better thing : Sowes tares ( gainst haruest ) in the fields of loue , And dogged humor Dog-dayes-like doth proue : Scorching loues glorious world with glowing tong ; Aserpent by which loue to death is stung , A fire to wast his pleasant sommer bowres , Ruine his mansions , and deface his towres . Yonder goes Caelius playing fast and loose With his wiues arme , but not for loue God knowes , Suspition is the cause she well doth know , Can she then loue him that doth wrong her so ? If she refuse to walke with him hee 'le frowne , Fore-wearied both , they rest , he on her gowne Sits for his ease she saith , afrayd in hart , Least sodainly she should giue him the start : Thus doth he make her prisoner to his feare , And himselfe thrall to selfe-consuming care . A male-kind sparrow once mistooke his nest , And sled for harbour to faire Liuias breast : Her husband caught him with a iealous rage , Swearing to keepe him prisoner in a Cage : Then a poore flye dreading no netty snare , Was caught in curled meshes of her haire , Humming a sad note for 's imprisonment ; When the mad beast , with ruder hands doth rent That golden fleece , for hast to take the flie , And straight-wayes at a window gins to prie , Busie , sharp-sighted blind-man-hob , to know Whether t' were male or female taken so , Marke how Seuerus frigs from roome to roome , To see , and not to see his martirdome : Peeuish disease which doth all foode distast , But what kils health , and that 's a pleasing feast : Like Weauers shuttles which runne to and fro , Rau'ling their owne guts with their running so . He which infects these with this lunacy , Is an odd figgent iack called Iealousie , His head is like a windmils trunk so bigge . Wherin ten thousand thoughts runne whirligigge , Play at barly-breake , and daunce the Irish hay Ciuill and peacefull like the Centaures fray His body is so fallen away and leane , That scarce it can his logger-head sustaine . He hath as many hundred thousand eyes As Argus had , like starres plac't in the skies , Though to no purpose , for blinde loue can see Hauing no eyes , farther then Iealousie . Gulfe-brested is he , silent , and profound , Cat-footed for slie pace , and without sound , Porpentine backed , for he lies on thornes , Is it not pitty such a beast wants hornes ? Is it not pitty such a beast should so , Possesse mens thoughts , and timpanize with woe Their bigge swolne harts ? for let Seuerus heare , A Cuckow sing in Iune , he sweats for feare : And comming home , he whurries through the house , Each hole that makes an inmate of a mouse Is ransackt by him for the cuckold-maker , He beates his wife , & mongst his maides doth swagger T'extort confession from thē who hath been Familiar with his wife , wreeking his teene Vpon her ruffes and iewels , burning , tearing , Flinging and hurling , scolding , staring , swearing . Hee 's as discreet , ciuill a gentleman , As Harry Peasecod , or a Bedlam man , A drunken captaine , or a ramping whore , Or swaggering blew-coate at an ale-house doore . What an infection's this , which thus doth fire Mens most discreetest tempers , and doth tire Their soules with furie ? and doth make them thirst To carouse bolles of poyson till they burst ? Oh this it is to be too wise in sin . Too well experienst , and skilld therein : " For false suspition of another , is , " A sure condemning of our owne amisse . Vnlesse a man haue into practise brought The Theoricke art of loue which Ouid wrote , Vnlesse his owne lewd life haue taught him more Then Aretines aduenturous wandring whore , Vnlesse he haue an antient souldiour beene , Brags of the markes , and shewes the scarres of sinne , How could he be so gorgde with louing hate , As to thinke women so insaciate ? How could he know their stratagems and shifts , Their politicke delayes and wilie drifts ? No no , t is true , he hath beene naught himselfe , And lewdnes fathereth this wayward elfe , Then take this for a Maxim generall rule , No iealous man , but is or knaue , or foole . Satyra Quinta . LEt me alone I prethee in thys Cell , Entice me not into the Citties hell ; Tempt me not forth this Eden of content , To tast of that which I shall soone repent : Prethy excuse me , I am not alone Accompanied with meditation , And calme content , whose tast more pleaseth me Then all the Citties lushious vanity . I had rather be encoffin'd in this chest Amongst these bookes and papers I protest , Then free-booting abroad purchase offence , And scandale my calme thoughts with discontents . Heere I conuerse with those diuiner spirits , Whose knowledge , and admire the world inherits : Heere doth the famous profound Stagarite , With Natures mistick harmony delight My rauish'd contemplation : I heere see The now-old worlds youth in an history : Heere may I be graue Platos auditor ; And learning of that morrall Lecturer , To temper mine affections , gallantly Get of my selfe a glorious victory : And then for change , as we delight in change . ( For this my study is indeede m'Exchange ) Heere may I sit , yet walke to Westminster And heare Fitzherbert , Plowden , Brooke , and Dier Canuas a law-case : or if my dispose Perswade me to a play , I 'le to the Rose , Or Curtaine , one of Plautus Comedies , Or the Patheticke Spaniards Tragedies : If my desire doth rather wish the fields , Some speaking Painter , some Poet straitway yeelds A flower bespangled walk , where I may heare Some amorous Swaine his passions declare To his sun-burnt Loue . Thus my books little case , My study , is mine All , mine euery place . What more variety of pleasures can An idle Citty-walke affoord a man ? More troublesome and tedious will I know T' will be , into the peopled streets to goe , Witnes that hotch-potch of so many noyses , Black-saunts of so many seuerall voyces , That Chaons of rude sounds , that harmouy , And Dyapason of harsh Barbary , Compos'd of seuerall mouthes , and seuerall cries , Which to mens eares turne both their tongs & eies . There squeaks a cart-wheele , here a tumbrel rumbles Heere scolds an old Bawd , there a Porter grumbles . Heere two tough Car-men combat for the way , There two for looks begin a coward fray , Two swaggering knaues heere brable for a whore , There brauls an Ale-knight for his fat-grown score . But oh purgation ! yon rotten-throated slaues Engarlanded with coney-catching knaues , Whores , Bedles , bawdes and Sergeants filthily Chaunt Kemps Iigge , or the Burgonians tragedy : But in good time , there 's one hath nipt a bong , Farewell my harts , for he hath marrd the song . Yet might all this , this too bad be excusd , Were not an Ethicke soule much more abusd , And her still patience choakt by vanitie , With vnsufferable inhumanitie : For whose gall is 't that would not ouerflow , To meete in euery streete where he shall goe , With folly maskt in diuers semblances ? The Cittie is the mappe of vanities , The marte of fooles , the Magazin of gulles , The painters shop of Antickes : walke in Poules , And but obserue the sundry kindes of shapes , Th'wilt sweare that London is as rich in apes As Affricke Tabraca : One wries his face . This fellows wrie necke is his better grace . He coynd in newer mint of fashion , With the right Spanish shrugge shewes passion . There comes one in a muffler of Cad'z-beard , Frowning as he would make the world afeard , With him a troupe all in gold-dawbed sutes , Looking like Talbots , Percies , Montacutes , As if their very countenaunces would sweare , The Spanyard should conclude a peace for feare : But bring them to a charge , then see the luck , Though but a false fire , they theyr plumes wil duck What maruell , since life's sweete ? But see yonder , One like the vnfrequented Theater Walkes in darke silence , and vast solitude , Suited to those blacke fancies which intrude , Vpon possession of his troubled breast : But for blacks sake he would looke like a ieast , For hee 's cleane out of fashion : what he ? I thinke the Genius of antiquitie , Come to complaine of our varietie , Of tickle fashions : then you iest I see . Would you needs know ? he is a malecontent : A Papist ? no , nor yet a Protestant , But a discarded intelligencer , Here 's one lookes like to a king Arthurs fencer , With his case of rapiers , and suted in buffe , Is he not a Sargeant ? then say's a muffe For his furrd sattin cloake ; but let him goe , Meddle not with him , hee 's a shrewd fellow . Oh what a pageant's this ? what foole was I To leaue my studie to see vanitie ? But who 's in yonder coach ? my lord and foole , One that for ape tricks can put Gue to schoole : Heroick spirits , true nobilitie Which can make choyce of such societie . He more perfections hath than y 'would suppose , He hath a wit of waxe , fresh as a rose , He playes well on the treble Violin , He soothes his Lord vp in his grosest sin , At any rimes sprung from his Lordships head , Such as Elderton would not haue fathered : He cries , oh rare my Lord , he can discourse The story of Don Pacolet and his horse , ( To make my Lord laugh ) sweares and iest , And with a Simile non plus the best , ( Vnlesse like Pace his wit be ouer-awde ) But his best part is he 's a perfect Bawde , Rare vertues ; farewel they . But who 's yonder Deep mouth'd Hound , that bellows rimes like thunder He maks an earthquake throughout Paules churchyard , Well fare his hart , his larum shall be heard : Oh he 's a puisne of the Innes of Court , Come from th'Vniuersity to make sport With his friends money heere : but see , see , Heere comes Don Fashion , spruce formality , Neat as a Merchants ruffe , that 's set in print , New halfe-penny , skip'd forth his Laundres mint ; Oh braue ! what , with a feather in his hat ? He is a dauncer you may see by that ; Light heeles , light head , light feather well agree . Salute him , with th'embrace beneath the knee ? I thinke t were better let him passe along , He will so dawbe vs with his oyly tongue , For thinking on some of his Mistresses , We shall be curried with the briske phrases , And prick-song termes he hath premeditate , Speake to him woe to vs , for we shall ha' te , Then farewell he . But soft , whom haue we heare ? What braue Saint George , what mounted Caualiere ? He is all court-like , Spanish in 's attyre , He hath the right ducke , pray God he be no Frier : Thys is the Dictionary of complements , The Barbers mouth of new-scrapt eloquence , Synomicke Tully for varietie , And Madame Conceits gorgeous gallerie , The exact patterne which Castilio Tooke for 's accomplish Courtier : but soft ho , What needs that bownd , or that curuet ( good fir ) There 's some sweet Lady , and t is done to her , That she may see his Iennets nimble force : Why , would he haue he in loue with his horse ? Or aymes he at popish merrit , to make Her in loue with him , for his horses sake ? The further that we walke , more vanitie Presents it selfe to prospect of mine eye , Here sweares some Seller , though a known vntruth , Here his wife 's bated by some quick-chapt youth . There in that window mistres minkes doth stand , And to some copesmate beckneth her hand , In is he gone , Saint Venus be his speede , For some great thing must be aduentured : There comes a troupe of puisnes from the play , Laughing like wanton schoole-boyes all the way . You goe a knot to Bloome is Ordinary , Friends and good fellowes all now , by and by Thei●le be by the eares , vie stabs , exchange disgraces , And bandie daggers at each others faces . Enough of these then , and enough of all , I may thanke you for this time spent ; but call Henceforth I 'le keepe my studie , and eschew , The scandall of my thoughts , my follies view : Now let vs home , I 'me sure t is supper time , The horne hath blowne , haue done my merry rime . Satyra sexta . OH that mens thoughts should so degenerate , Being free borne , t' admit a slauish state : They disclaime Natures manumission , Making themselues bond to opinion : Whose gally-slaues they are , tost on the sea Of vulgar humors , which doth rage and play , According as the various breath of change Clames or perturbs her smooth brow . Is 't not strang That heau'n bred soules , discended from aboue Should brooke such base subiection ? feare reproofe From her cold northerne gales , or els be merry When her Fanonian praise breathes a sweet perry ? ( Rason ) thou art the soules bright Genius , Sent downe from Ioues throne to safe conduct vs In this lifes intricate Daedalian maze : How art thou buffuld ? how comes this disgrace , That by opinion thou art bearded so , Thy slaue , thy shadow : nay , out-bearded too ? She earth-worme doth deriue her pedegree From bodies durt , and sensualitie , And marshald in degree fitting her birth Is but a dwarffe , or iester to make mirth . Thou the soules , bodies Queenes allie most neere , The first Prince of her blood , and chiefest peere , Nay , her protector in nonage , whilst she Liues in this bodies weake minoritie , Art yet kept vnder by that vnderling , That dreame , that breath , nay that indeed Nothing , The ale-house Ethicks , the worlds vpside downe Is verefied : the prince now serues the clowne . If reason bandy with opinion , Opinion winnes in the conclusion : For if a man be once opinionate , Millions of reasons nill extenuate His fore-ceited mallice : conference Cannot asswage opinions insolence . But let opinion once lay battery To reasons fort , she will turne heresie , Or superstition , wily politist , But she will winne those rampires which resist . Then sith such innate discord is maintain'd Twixt reason and opinion ; what staid-brain'd , True resolute , and philosophick head Would by opinion be distempered ? Opinion is as various as light change , Now speaking Court-like friendly , strait-wayes strange ; She 's any humours perfect parasite , Displeas'd with her , and pleas'd with her delight , She is the Eccho of inconstancie , Soothing her no with nay , her I with yea . Then who would weigh this feather , or respect The fickle censure of shallow neglect ? Shall graue Lycurgus straite repeale his lawes , Because some Cobler finds fault with this clawse , Some Ale-konner with that ? or shall the state Be subiect to each base-groomes arbitrate ? No , let 's esteeme Opinion as she is , Fooles bawble , innouations Mistris , The Proteus Robin-good-fellow of change , Smithfield of iaded fancies , and th' exchange Of fleeting censures , nurse of heresit , Begot by Malice on Inconstancie : It 's but the hisse of Geese , the peoples noyse , The tongue of humours , and phantasticke voyce Of haire-brain'd Apprehension : it respects With all due titles , and that due neglects Euen in one instant . For in these our times Some of Opinions gulls carpe at the rimes Of reuerend Chawcer : other-some do praise them , And vnto heau'n with wonders wings do raise them Some say the mark is out of Gowers mouth , Others , he 's better then a trick of youth . Some blame deep Spencer for his grandam words , Others protest that , in them he records His maister-peece of cunning giuing praise , And grauity to his profound-prickt layes . Daniel ( as some holds ) might mount if he list , But others say that he 's a Lucanist . Markham is censur'd for his want of plot , Yet others thinke that no deepe stayning blot ; As Homer writ his Frogs-fray learnedly , And Virgil his Gnats vnkind Tragedy : So though his plot be poore , his Subiect's rich , And his Muse soares a Falcons gallant pitch . Drayton's condemn'd of some for imitation , But others say t' was the best Poets fashion , In spight of sicke Opinions crooked doome , Traytor to kingdome mind , true iudgments toomb , Like to a worthy Romaine he hath wonne A three-fold name affined to the Sunne , When he is mounted in the glorious South , And Drayton's iustly firnam'd Golden-mouth . The double volum'd Satyre praised is , And lik'd of diuers for his Rods in pisse , Yet other-some , who would his credite crack Haue clap'd Reactioes Action on his back . Nay , euen wits Caesar , Sidney , for whose death The Fates themselues lamented Englands scath , And Muses-wept , till of their teares did spring Admiredly a second Castal spring , Is not exempt for prophanation , But censur'd for affectation . Thus doth Opinion play the two edg'd sword , And vulgar iudgments both-hand playes afford , Then who but fooles , and empty caske like minds , Would be engross'd with such phantastique winds ? Let Players , Minstrels , silken Reuellers , Light minded as their parts , their aires , their fethers , Be slaues t'Opinion , when the people shoute At a quaint iest , crosse-poynt , or well touch'd Lute , Let their sleight frothy minds be bubled vp , And breake againe at a hisse , or howt , or hup . Let Caius when his horse hath wone the bell , Conceiue more ioy than his dull tongue can tell : Or let Lycanor feare a tennis set More then his soules losse , and for it more fret . Pollio me thinks is going into the Towne , Boy , set your Maisters ruffe , and brush his gowne , Least some spruce Taylor sitting on his stall , Say , there goes a slouen , carelesse of all , Heere comes young Pansa : whether away so fast ? Why , going to the Barbers in all hast , Thy haire 's all short enough : but I must craue A little labour to be smug'd , and haue A blessing of Rose-water , ere I goe To see such and such Ladies , for you know Thei 'le flowt a man behind his backe , if he Be not trim furbish'd , and in decencie . Oh what a slauerie's this ? shall a free mind Sicke of a Cockneys Ague , feare the wind ? No , let 's be Stoicks , resolute , and spare not To tell the proudest Criticke that we care not For his wooden censure , nor to mittigate The sharp tart veriuice of his snap-haunce hate Would change a line , a word , no not a poynt For his deepe mouthed scoffes , as soone disioynt His grind-iest chaps as hurt our credites , who Are carelesse of what ●e can say or do . Oh Epictetus , perfect libertine , Who though a slaue , tyr'd daily in the mine , Yet hadst as free a soule , as free a powre To calme content as any Emperour , Thou wert no busie Polypragmons thrall , No slaue to censures , caring not at all Which way the vulgar wind stood , negligent Whether the world were angry or content . Thy vertue-purged soule , thy Genius Made all thine inclinations vertuous : Which thou didst follow , carelesse of th' euent , Or of the worlds applause , or discontent . True patterne of a philosophick soule , Not subiect to Mechanick mates controule , Nor puff'd vp with the praises of each hind Which gaue a froathy battery to thy mind . With such resolue , such perfect temperature Should a Socratique mind her thoughts assure : And as he taught young Alcibiades Audacity to pleade , and to despise The popular scarcrow estimation ; For that such bodies composition Consisted but of Brokers , Coblers , slaues , Black-men , trap-makers , and such kind of knaues , Whose many headed doomes he neuer weighd , Nor of their giddy vnion was afraid : So let all others care for vulgar breath , Which neither can preserue , nor plague with death , ( Vnlesse their sent of Garlike poyson vs. ) Should I take it at hart , or for hainous , To heare some Prentize , or some Players boy Hath iested at my Muse , and scoff'd my ioy ? Or that some Chaundler slopt a mustard pot , Or wrap'd Sope in some leaues , her petticoate ? Or perfum'd Courtiour in a peeuish scorne , Some pages thereof , tyrant-like hath torne , To scauenger his backe dore from the durt ? Which if he do ( though me it shall not hurt ) May my harsh stile ( the Muses I beseech ) Be but as arse-smart to his tickled breech : Or shall I thinke my selfe t' haue better hap , If that some weeuil , mault-worme , barly-cap , Hearing my lines halfe-snorting ore his kanne , Sweares them for good , and me a proper man ? Or shall I waxe proud if some Pedant daigne The Epethite of Pretty for my paine ? The pox I will as soone : let others care , I le play the Gallant , I , the Caueleire ; Once in my dayes I le weene , and ouer-weene , And cry , a Fico for the Criticke spleene : For let them praise them , or their praise deny , My lines are still themselues , and so am I. FINIS .