Micro-cynicon. Sixe snarling satyres Insatiat Cron. Prodigall Zodon. Insolent Superbia. Cheating Droone. Ingling Pyander. Wise Innocent.

Micro-cynicon . SIXE SNARling Satyres . Insatiat Cron. Prodigall Zodon . Insolent Superbia . Cheating Droone . Ingling Pyander . Wise Innocent .

Adsis pulcher homo canis hic tibi pulcher emendo .

Imprinted at London by Thomas Creede , for Thomas Bushell , and are to be sold at his shop at the North doore of Paules Church . 1599.

His defiance to Enuy . ENuy , which makst thy selfe in common guise , To haunt deseruers , and to hunt desarts , Hard-soft , cold-hot , well-euill , foolish-wise , Misse contrarities agreeing parts . Auant I say , i le anger thee inough , And fold thy firy-eyes in thy smazkie snufe , Defiance , resolution and neglects , True trine of barres against thy false assault , Defies , resolues defiance and reiects Thy interest to claime the smallest fault . Thou lawlesse landlady , poore Prodigall , Sowre solace , Credits Crack , Feares Festiuall . More angry Satyr-dayes i le muster vp , Then thou canst challenge letters in thy name : My Negrum true borne inck no more shall sup , Thy stayned blemish , charracterd in blame . My pens two nebs shall turne vnto a forke , Chasing old Enuy from so young a worke : I but the Authors mouth bid thee auaunt , He more defies thy Hate , thy hunt , thy haunt . T. M. Gent.

The Authors Prologue . 1. Booke . DIsmounted from the hie aspiring hils , Which the all emptie airie Kingdome fils , Leauing the scorched mountains threatning heuen From whence fel fierie rage my soule hath driuen : Passing the downe steepe vallies all in hast , Haue tript it through the woods : & now at last Am vaild with a stonie sanctuarie , To saue my Ire stuft soule least it miscarie : From threating stormes ore'turning veritie , That shames to see truthes refined puritie : Those open plains , those hie skie kissing mounts , Wher huffing winds cast vp their airy accounts Were too too open , shelter yeelding none , So that the blasts did tyrannize vpon The naked Carkasse of my heauie soule , And with their furie all my all controule , But now enuiron'd with a brazen Tower , I little dread their stormie raging power : Witnesse this blacke defying Embassie , That wanders them beforne in maiestie : Vndaunted of their bugbare threatning words , Whose proud aspiring vaunts , time past records . Now windie Parasites or the the slaues of wine , That wind from al things saue the truth diuine , Winde turne and tosse into the depth of spight , Your diuellish venome cannot me affright : It is a Cordiall of a Candie taste , I le drinke it vp , and then let 't run at waste . Whose drugie Lees mixt with the liquid flood , Of muddy fell defiance as it stood , I le belch into your throates all open wide , Whose gaping swallow nothing runs beside : And if it venome , take it as you list : He spights himselfe , that spights a Satyrist .

THE FIRST BOOKE . Insatiat Cron.

Satyre 1. Cur eget indignus quisquam , te diuite . TIme was , when down declining toothlesse age , Was of a holy and diuine presage : Diuining prudent and foretelling truth , In sacred points , instructing wandring youth . But oh detraction of our latter daies , How much from veritie this age estraies ? Raunging the bryerie desarts of blacke sin , Seeking a dismall caue to reuell in . This latter age or member of that time , Of whom my snarling muse now thundreth rime Wandred the brackes vntill a hidden Cell , He found at length , and still therin doth dwell : The house of gaine insatiat it is , Which this hore aged pesant deemes his blis : Oh that desire might hunt amongst that fur , It should go hard but he would loose a cur : To rowse the fox , hid in a bramble bush , Who frighteth conscience with a wrimouth'd push : But what need I to wish or would it thus , When I may find him starting at the burs : Where he infecteth other pregnant wits , Making them Coheires to his damned fits . There may you see this writhen faced masse , Of rotten mouldring clay , that prating asse : That riddles wonders meere compact of lies , Of heauen , of hell , of earth and of the skies : Of heauen thus he reasons : heauen there s none , Vnles it be within his mantion . Oh there is heauen : why ? because there s gold , That from the late to this last age controld , The massie scepter of Earthes hauenly round , Exiling forth her siluer paued bound , The Leaders , brethren , brazen counterfets , That in this golden age contempt begets : Vaunt then I mortall I , I onely King , And golden God of this eternall being . Of Hell Cymerian thus Auarus reasons : Though hell be hot , yet it obserueth seasons : Hauing within his Kingdome residence , Ore which his godhead hath preheminence : An obscure angell of his Heauen it is , Wherein 's containd that Hell deuouring blis : Into this Hell sometimes an Angell fals , Whose white aspect black forlorn soules appals And that is when a Saint beleeuing gold , Old in that heauen , yong in being old . Falls headlong downe into that pit of woe , Fit for such damned creatures ouerthrow . To make this publike that obscured lies , And more apparant vulgar secrecies : To make this plaine , harsh vnto common wits , Simplicitie in common iudgement sits . This down-cast angell , or declining saint , Is greedy Croone , when Cron makes his compt : For his poore creditors falne to decay , Being bankerouts , take heeles and run away . Then franticke Cron , gald to the very hart , In some by corner playes a diuels part : Repining at the losse of so much pelfe , And in a humor goes and hangs himselfe . So of a saint , a diuell Cron is made , The diuel lou'd Cron , and Cron the diuels trade . Thus may you see such angels often fall , Making a working day a festiuall . Now to the third point of his deitie , And that 's th' earth , thus reasons credulitie : Credulous Cron , Cron credulous in all , Sweares that his kingdome is in generall . As he is Regent of this Heauen and Hell , So of the Earth , all others hee 'le expell : The Skies at his dispose , the Earth his owne , And if Cron please , all must be ouerthrowne . Cron , Cron , aduise thee Cron with the copper nose , And be not rulde so much by false suppose : Least Crons professing holinesse turne euil , And of a false god , proue a perfect diuil . I prithee Cron find out some other talke , Make not the Burse a place for spirits to walke : For doubtlesse if thy damned lies take place , Destruction followes , farwell sacred grace . Th' exchāge for goodly Merchants is appointed Why not for me sayes Cron , & mine annointed ? Can Marchants thriue and not the Vse'r nie ? Can Marchants liue without my companie ? No Cron helps all , and Cron hath help from none , What others haue is Crons , & Crons his owne . And Cron will hold his owne , or 't shal go hard , The diuel will helpe him for a small reward : The diuels helpe , oh t is a mightie thing , If he but say the word , Cron is a King . Oh then the diuel is greater yet then hee , I thought as much , the diuel would master bee . And reason too ( saith Cron ) for what care I , So I may liue as God , and neuer die . Yea golden Cron , death will make thee away , And each dog Cron , must haue a dying day . And with this resolution I bequeath thee , To God or to the diuel , and so I leaue thee .

Satyre 2. Prodigall Zodon WHo knowes not Zodon ; Zodon , what is he ? The true borne child of insatietie . If true borne , when ? if borne at all , say where ? Where conscience beg'd in worst time of the yeare , His name yong Prodigall , son to greedy gaine : Let bloud by folly , in a contrary vaine . For scraping Cron , seeing he needs must die , Bequeathed all to prodigallitie . The will once prou'd , and he possest of all , Who then so gallant as yong Prodigall ? Mounted aloft on flattering Fortunes wings , Where like an Nightingale secure he sings : Floating on Seas of scarce prosperitie , In girt with pleasures sweete tranquillitie . Sute vpon sute , satten too too base , Veluet laid on with gold or siluer lace : A meane man doth become , but yee must ride In cloth of fyned gold , and by his side Two footmen at the least , with choise of steeds , Attired when she rides in gorgeous weeds . Zodon must haue his Charrot gilded ore , And when he triumphes , fowre bare before , In pure white Satten to vsher out his way , To make him glorious on his progresse day , Vaile bonnet he that doth not passing by , Admiring on that Sunne inriching skie , Two dayes incag'd at least in strongest hold , Storme he that list , he scornes to be controld . What is it lawfull that a mounted begger , May vncontrolled thus beare sway and swagger ? A base borne issue of a baser syer : Bred in a cottage , wandring in the myer , With nailed shooes , and whipstaffe in his hand , Who with a hey and ree the beasts command : And being seuen years practizde in that trade , At seuen yeares end by Tom a iournyes made , Vnto the Citie of faire Troynouant , Where through extremitie of need and want , Hee s forc't to trot with fardle at his backe . From house to house , demaunding if they lacke A poore yong man that 's willing to take paine , And mickle labour , though for little gaine . Well , some kind Troyan thinking he hath grace , Keepes him himselfe , or gets some other place . The world now god be thanked's wel amended Want that erewhile did want , is now befrended . And scraping Cron hath got a world of welth , Now what of that , Cron 's dead , wher 's al his pelf ? Bequeathed to yong prodigall : That 's well , His God hath left him , and he 's fled to hell : See goulden soules , the end of ill got gaine , Reade and marke well , to do the like refraine . This youthful gallant like the prince of pleasure , Floting on golden seas of earthly treasure : Treasure ill got by ministring of wrong . Made a faire show , but endured not long . Ill got , worse spent , gotten by deceit : Spent on lasciuions wantons which await , And hourely expect such prodigallitie , Lust breathing leachers giuen to venerie . No day expired but Zodon hath his trull , He hath his tyt , and she likewise her gull . Gull he , Trull she , oh t is a gallant age , Men may haue hacknyes of good carriage : Prouided that their rayne a golden shower , Then come whose will , at th' appointed hower . Hower me no howers , howers breake no square , Where gold doth rai●● , 〈◊〉 to find them there . Well : Zodon hath his pleasure , he hath gold , Young in his golden age , in sin too old : Now he wants gold , all his treasures done , Hee s banished the Stewes , pittie findes none . Rich yesterday in wealth , this day as poore , To morrow like to beg from doore to doore . See youthfull spendthrifts all your brauery , Euen in a moment turnd to misery .

Satyre 3. Insolent Superbia . LIst ye profane faire painted images , Predestinated by the destenies , At your first being to fall eternallie Into Cymerian black obscuritie . Ilfauoured Idols , Pride anatomie , Foule coloured puppets , balls of infamie : Whome zealous soules do racket too and fro , Sometimes aloft ye flye , otherwhiles below : Banded into the ayres loose continent : Where hard vpbearing winds hold parlament . For such is the force of downe declining sin , Where our short feathered peacocks wallow in . That when sweete motions vrge them to aspire , They are so bathed ore by sweete desire In the odiferous fountaine of sweete pleasure , Wherein delight hath all embalmd her treasure . I meane where Sin the mistris of disgrace , Hath residence , and her abiding place . And sin though it be foule , yet faire in this , In being painted with a show of blis . For what more happie creature to the eie , Then is Superbia in her brauerie ? Yet who more foule disrobed of attire ? Perld with the botch as children burnt with fire , That for their outward cloake vpon the skin , Worser enormities abound within . Looke they to that , truth tels them there amis , And in this glasse , all telling truth it is . When welcome Spring had clad the hils in green , And pretty whistling birds were heard and seen , Superbia abrode gan take her walke : With other peacocks for to finde her talke . Kyron that in a bush lay closely couched , Heard all their chat , and how it was auouched : Sister sayes one , and softly packt away , In what faire company did you dine to day ? Mongst gallant dames , & then she wipes her lips , Placing both hands vpon her whalebone hips , Puft vp with a round circling farthingale , That done : she gins go forward with her tale : Sitting at table caru'd of walnut tree , All couered with damaskt naperie , Garnisht with saults of pure beaten gould , Whose siluer plated edge of rarest mould , Mou'd admiration in my searching eie , To see the goldsmiths ritch artificie . The Butlers placing of his manchets white , The plated cupbord for our more delight . Whose goulden bewty glauncing from on hie , Illuminated other chambers nie . The slowly pacing of the seruing men , Which were appointed to attend vs then , Holding in either hand a siluer dish , Of costly cates of farfetcht daintie fish , Vntill they do approch the table nye , Where the appointed caruer carefully Dischargeth them of their full freighted hands , Which instantly vpon the table stands . The musick sweet which al that while did sound , Rauish the hearers , and their sence confound . This done , the master of that sumptuous feast , In order gins to place his welcome gest . Bewtie first seated in a throne of state , Vnmatchable disdaining other mate Shone like the sun , wheron mine eies stil gazed , Feeding on her perfections that amazed : But oh , her siluer framed Coronet With low downe dangling spangles all beset , Her sumptuous perewig , her curious curles , Her hie prizde necklace of entrailed perles : Her pretious Iewels wondrous to behold , Her basest I em framde of the purest gold . Oh I could kill my selfe for very spight , That my dim stars giue not so cleere a light . Hartburning ire new kindled , bids dispaire , Since Bewtie liues in her , and I want faire . Oh had I dyde in youth , or not bin borne , Rather then liue in hate , and dye forlorne . And dye I will , therewith she drew a knife To kill her selfe , but Kyron sau'd her life . See heere proud puppets hie aspiring euils , Scarse any good , most of you worse then diuels . Excellent in ill , ill in aduising well , Wel in that s worst , worse then the worst in hell . Hell is starke blind , so blind most women bee : Blinde & yet not blind when they should not see . Fine Madam Tiptoes in her veluet gowne , That quotes her paces in Characters downe : Valuing each step that she had made that day , Worth twenty shillings in her best aray . And why forsooth some little durty spot Hath fell vpon her gowne or petticote . Perhaps that nothing much , or something little , Nothing in manies view , in hers a mickle : Doth thereon surfet , and some day or two Shee s passing sick , and knowes not what to do . The poore handmaid seeing her mistres wed ▪ To frantick sicknes , wishes she were dead : Or that her diuellish tyranizing fits May mend , and she enioy her former wits . For whilst that Helth thus counterfets not well , Poore here at hand , liues in the depth of hell . Wher is this baggadge , wher 's this girle , what ho ( Quoth she ) was euer woman troubled so ? What huswife Nan , and then she gins to brall , Then in comes Nan , sooth mistris did you call ? Out on thee queane , now by the liuing God , And then she strikes & on the wench layes load . Poore silly maide with finger in the eye , Sighing and sobbing takes all patiently . Nimble Affection stung to the very hart , To see her fellow mate susteine such smart , Flies to the Burse gate for a match or two , And salues th' amis , there is no more to do . Quickfooted kindnes , quick as it selfe thought With that wel pleasing newes but lately bought By loues assiduat care and industry , Into the Chamber runs immediatly . Where she vnlades the fraight of sweet content , The hagler pleasd doth rise incontinent . Then thought of sicknes is not thought vpon , Care hath no being in her mantion . But former peacock pride , grand insolence , Euen in the highest thought hath residence . But it on tiptoe stands , well : what of that ? It is more prompt to fall and ruinate : And fall it will when deaths shrill clamorous bell Shall summon you vnto the depth of hell : Repent proude Princocks , cease for to aspire , Or dye to liue , with Pride in burning fire .

Satyre 4. Cheating Droone . THere is a Cheater by profession , That takes more shapes then the Camelion . Sometimes he iets it in a black furd gowne , And that is , when he harbours in the towne . Sometimes a cloake to mantle hoary age , Ilfauoured like an ape in spightfull rage : And then he walks in Paules a turne or two , To see by Cheating what his wit can do . Perhaps hee le tell a Gentleman a tale , Will cost him twenty angels in the sale : But if he know his purse well linde within , And by that meanes he cannot finger him , He 'le proffer him such far set curtesie , That shortly in a Tauerne neighbring by , He hath encag'd the silly Gentleman , To whom he proffers seruice all he can . Sir , I perceiue you are of gentle bloud , Therefore I will , our Cates be new and good : For well I wot , the Country yeeldeth plenty , And as they diuers be , so are they dainty . May it please you then a while to rest you merry . Some Cates I will make choise of and not tarry . The silly Cunny blith and merrily , Doth for his kindnes thanke him hartily . Then hies the Cheater very hastily , And with some Pesant where he is in fee Iugles , that dinner being almost ended , He in a matter of weight may then be frended . The Pesant for an angell then in hand , Will do what ere his worship shall command : And yeelds , that when a reckoning they call in , To make reply ther 's one to speake with him . The plot is laid , now comes the Cheater back , And calls in hast for such things as they lack . The table fraighted with all dainty cates , Hauing well fed , they fall to pleasant chates : Discoursing of the mickle difference , Twixt perfit truth and painted eloquence . Plaine troth that harbours in the country swain The Cunny stands defendant , the Cheaters vain Is to vphold an eloquent smooth toong To be truths Orator righting euery wrong : Before the cause concluded tooke effect , In comes a crew of fidling knaues abiect , The very refuse of that rabble rout , Halfe shooes vpon their feet torne round about , Saue little Dicke the dapper singing knaue , He had a threadbare coate to make him braue : God knowes scarce worth a tester , if it were Vallewed at most , of seuen it was too deere . Well take it as they list , shakerag came in , Making no doubt but they would like of him : And t were but for his person a pretty lad Well quallified , hauing a singing trade . Well so it was the Cheater must be merry , And he a song must haue , cald hey down derry . So Dick begins to sing , the fidler play , The melancholly Cunny replies , nay , nay : No more of this : the tother bids play on , T is good our spirits shuld something work vpon . Tut gentle sir , be pleasant man ( quoth he ) Yours be the pleasure , mine the charge shall be . This do I for the loue of gentlemen , Hereafter happily if we meete agen , I shall of you expect like curtesie , Finding fit time and opportunitie : Or else I were vngratefull quoth the cunny , It shall go hard , but we wil find some mony . For some we haue , that some wel vsd gets more , And so in time we shall increase our store . Meane time said he , imploy it to good vse , For time ill spent , doth purchase times abuse . With that more wine he calls for and intends That either of them carouse to all their frends . The cunny nods the head , yet sayes not nay , Because the other would the charge defray : The end tryes all , and here begins the iest , My gentleman betooke him to his rest . Wine tooke possession of his drowsie head , And Cheating Droone hath brought the foole to bed . The fidlers were dischargd , and al things whist , Then pilfring Droone gan vse him as he list . Ten pound he finds , the reckoning he doth pay : And with the residue passeth sheere away . Anon the Conny wakes , his coyne being gon , He exclaymes against dissimulation . But t was too late , the Cheater had his pray , Be wise young heads , care for an afterday .

Satyre 5. Ingling Pyander . AGe hath his infant youth , old trees their sprigs , Orespreading branches their inferior twigs : Old beldam hath a daughter or a sonne True borne , or illegitimate all s one : Issue she hath : the father ? aske you mee ? The house wide open stands , her lodgings free . Admit my selfe for recreation Sometimes did enter her possession , It argues not that I haue bin the man , That first kept reuels in that mantian , No no , the hagling common place is old , The Tenement hath oft bin bought and sold : T is rotten now , earth to earth , dust to dust , Sodoms on fire , and consume it must : And wanting second reparations , Pluto hath ceasd the poore reuertions . But that hereafter worlds may truly know , What hemlocks & what rue there erst did grow : As it is Sathans vsuall pollicie , He left an issue of like quallitie : The still memoriall if I aime aright , Is a pale Chequered black Hermophrodite . Sometimes he ●ets it like a Gentleman , Otherwhiles much like a wanton Curtesan : But truth to tell a man or woman whether , I cannot say shee s excellent in ether . But if Report may certifie a truth , Shee s nether of ether , but a Cheating youth . Yet Troynouant that all admired towne , Where thousands still do trauell vp and downe , Of Bewties counterfets affoords not one , So like a louely smiling parragon , As is Pyander in a Nymphes attire , Whose rowling eye sets gazers harts on fire : Whose cherry lip , black brow & smiles procure Lust burning buzzards to the tempting lure . What shall I cloake sin with a coward feare , And suffer not Pyanders sin appeare ? I will I will : your reason ? why , I le tell , Because time was , I loued Pyander well : True loue in deed , wil hate loues black defame , So loathes my soule to seeke Pyanders shame . Oh but I feele the worme of conscience sting , And summons me vpon my soule to bring Sinfull Pyander into open viewe , There to receiue the shame that will ensue . Oh this sad passion of my heauie soule , Torments my heart , and sences do controule : Shame thou Pyander , for I can but shame , The meanes of my amisse , by thy means came : And shall I then procure eternall blame , By secret cloaking of Pyanders shame , And he not blush ? By heauen I will not , I le not burne in hell , For false Pyander though I lou'd him well : No no , the world shall know thy villany , Least they be cheated with like rogery : Walking the Cittie as my wonted vse , There was I subiect to this foule abuse , Troubled with many thoughts pacing along , It was my chance to shoulder in a throng , Thrust to the Channel I was , but crowding her , I spide Piander in a Nymphes attire : No Nymph more faire , then did Pyander seeme , Had not Pyander , then Pyander beene : No Lady with a fairer face more graced , But that Pyanders selfe , himselfe defaced Neuer was boy so pleasing to the hart , As was Pyander for a womans part : Neuer did woman foster such an other , As was Pyander , but Pyanders mother : Foole that I was in my affection , More happie I , had it bene a vision . So far intangled was my soule by loue , That force perforce , I must Pyander proue : The issue of which proofe did testifie , Ingling Pyanders damned villanie : I loued indeed , and to my mickle cost , I loued Pyander , so my labour lost . Faire words I had for store of coyne I gaue , But not enioyde the fruite I thought to haue . Oh so I was besotted with her words , His words that no part of a she affords : For had he bene a she iniurious boy , I had not bene so subiect to annoy . A plague vpon such filthy gullery , The world was nere so drunke with mockery : Rash headed Caualeires learne to be wise , And if you needs will do , do with aduise , Tye not affection to each wanton smile , Least doting Fancie truest loue beguile : Trust not a painted puppet as I haue done , Who far more doted then Pigmalion : The streetes are full of iugling parasites , With the true shape of Virgins counterfets : But if of force you must a hackney hire , Be curious in your choise , the best will tire : The best is bad , therefore hire none at all , Better to go on foot , then ride and fall .

Satyre 6. Wise Innocent . Why for an Innocent ho : what a pure foole ? Not so ( pure asse ) asse , wher went you to schoole ? With Innocents , that makes the foole to prate : Foole will you any ? yes the foole shall hate . Wisedome what shal he haue ? the foole at least : Prouinder for the Asse ho : stalk vp the beast , What shall we haue a railing Innocent ? No gentle gull , a wise mans president . Then forward wisedome , not without I list , Twentie to one , this foole 's some Satirist , Stil doth the foole haunt me , fond foole be gon , No I will stay , the foole to gaze vpon . Well foole stay still , stil shall the foole stay ? no : Then pack simplicitie , good Innocent , why so ? Nor go nor stay , what will the foole do then ? Vexe him that seemes to vexe all other men . It is impossible , streames that are bard their course , Swel with more rage , & far more greater force : Vntill there full stuft gorge a passage makes Into the wide mawes of more scopious lakes : Spight me : not spight it selfe can discontent , My steeled thoughts , or breed disparagement : Had palefac't coward feare bene resident Within the bosome of me Innocent : I would haue housde me from the eyes of ire , Whose bitter spleen vomits forth flames of fire A resolute Asse , oh for a spurring Rider , A brace of Angels : what is the foole a briber ? Is not the Asse yet wearie of his load ? What with once bearing of the foole abroad ? Mount againe Foole : then the Asse will tire And leaue the Foole to wallow in the mire . Dost thou think otherwise ? good Asse them be gon I stay but till the Innocent get on . What wilt thou needs of the foole bereaue mee ▪ Then pack good foolish Asse , & so I leaue thee .

FINIS .

Epilouge to the last Satyre of the first booke . THus may we see by folly of the wise , Stumble and fall into fooles paradise : For iocand wit of force must iangling bee , Wit must haue his will and so had hee . Wit must haue his will , yet parting of the fray , Wit was enioynd to carrie the foole away . Qui Color albus erat , nunc est contrarius albo . FINIS .