The metamorphosis of Pigmalions image And certaine satyres.

PIGMALION . 1. PIgmalion , whose hie loue-hating minde Disdain'd to yeeld seruile affection , Or amorous sute to any woman-kinde , Knowing their wants , and mens perfection . Yet Loue at length forc'd him to know his fate , And loue the shade , whose substance he did hate . 2. For hauing wrought in purest Iuorie , So faire an Image of a Womans feature , That neuer yet proudest mortalitie Could show so rare and beautious a creature . ( Vnlesse my Mistres all-excelling face , Which giues to beautie , beauties onely grace . ) 3. Hee was amazed at the wondrous rarenesse Of his owne workmanships perfection . He thought that Nature nere produc'd such fairenes In which all beauties haue their mantion . And thus admiring , was enamored On that fayre Image himselfe portraied . 4. And naked as it stood before his eyes , Imperious Loue declares his Deitie . O what alluring beauties he descries In each part of his faire imagery ! Her nakednes , each beauteous shape containes . All beautie in her nakednes remaines . 5. He thought he saw the blood run through the vaine And leape , and swell with all alluring meanes : Then feares he is deceiu'd , and then againe , He thinks he see'th the brightnes of the beames Which shoote from out the fairenes of her eye : At which he stands as in an extasie . 6. Her Amber-coloured , her shining haire , Makes him protest , the Sunne hath spread her head With golden beames , to make her farre more faire . But when her cheeks his amorous thoughts haue fed , Then he exclaimes , such redde and so pure white , Did neuer blesse the eye of mortall sight . 7. Then view's her lips , no lips did seeme so faire In his conceit , through which he thinks doth flie So sweet a breath , that doth perfume the ayre . Then next her dimpled chin he doth discry , And views , and wonders , and yet view's her still . " Loues eyes in viewing neuer haue their fill . 8. Her breasts , like polisht Iuory appeare , Whose modest mount , doe blesse admiring eye , And makes him wish for such a Pillowbeare . Thus fond Pigmalion striueth to discry Each beauteous part , not letting ouer-slip One parcell of his curious workmanship . 9. Vntill his eye discended so farre downe That it descried Loues pauillion : Where Cupid doth enioy his onely crowne , And Venus hath her chiefest mantion : There would be winke , & winking looke againe , Both eies & thoughts would gladly there remaine . 10. Who euer saw the subtile Citty-dame In sacred church , when her pure thoughts shold pray , Peire through her fingers , so to hide her shame , When that her eye her mind would faine bewray . So would he view , and winke , and view againe , A chaster thought could not his eyes retaine . 11. He wondred that she blusht not when his eye Saluted those same parts of secrecie : Conceiting not it was imagerie That kindly yeelded that large libertie . O that my Mistres were an Image too , That I might blameles her perfections view . 12. But when the faire proportion of her thigh Began appeare . O Ouid would he cry , Did ere Corinna show such Iuorie When she appear'd in Venus liuorie ? And thus enamour'd , dotes on his owne Art Which he did work , to work his pleasing smart . 13. And fondly doting , oft he kist her lip . Oft would he dally with her Iuory breasts . No wanton loue-trick would he ouer-slip , But still obseru'd all amorous beheasts . Whereby he thought he might procure the loue Of his dull Image , which no plaints coulde moue . 14. Looke how the peeuish Papists crouch , and kneele To some dum Idoll with their offering , As if a senceles carued stone could feele The ardor of his bootles chattering , So fond he was , and earnest in his sute To his remorsles Image , dum and mute . 15. He oft doth wish his soule might part in sunder So that one halfe in her had residence : Oft he exclaimes , ô beauties onely wonder , Sweet modell of delight , faire excellence , Be gracious vnto him that formed thee , Compassionate his true-loues ardencie . 16. She with her silence , seemes to graunt his sute . Then he all iocund like a wanton louer , With amorous embracements doth salute Her slender wast , presuming to discouer The vale of Loue , where Cupid doth delight To sport , and dally all the sable night . 17. His eyes , her eyes , kindly encountered , His breast , her breast , oft ioyned close vnto , His armes embracements oft she suffered , Hands , armes , eyes , tongue , lips , and all parts did woe . His thigh , with hers , his knee playd with her knee , A happy consort when all parts agree . 18. But when he saw poore soule he was deceaued , ( Yet scarce he could beleeue his sence had failed ) Yet when he found all hope from him bereaued , And saw how fondly all his thoughts had erred , Then did he like to poore Ixion seeme , That clipt a cloud in steede of heauens Queene . 19. I oft haue smil'd to see the foolery Of some sweet Youths , who seriously protest That Loue respects not actuall Luxury , But onely ioy 's to dally , sport , and iest : Loue is a child , contented with a toy , A busk-point , or some sauour still 's the boy . 20. Marke my Pigmalion , whose affections ardor May be a mirror to posteritie . Yet viewing , touching , kissing , ( common fauour , ) Could neuer satiat his loues ardencie : And therefore Ladies , thinke that they nere loue you , Who doe not vnto more then kissing moue you . 21. For my Pigmalion kist , viewd , and imbraced , And yet exclaimes , why were these women made O sacred Gods , and with such beauties graced ? Haue they not power as well to coole , and shade , As for to heate mens harts ? or is there none Or are they all like mine ? relentlesse stone . 22. With that he takes her in his louing armes , And downe within a Downe-bed softly layd her . Then on his knees he all his sences charmes , To inuocate sweet Venus for to raise her To wished life , and to infuse some breath , To that which dead , yet gaue a life to death . 23 Thou sacred Queene of sportiue dallying , ( Thus he begins , ) Loues onely Emperesse , Whose kingdome rests in wanton reuelling , Let me beseech thee show thy powerfulnesse In changing stone to flesh , make her relent , And kindly yeeld to thy sweet blandishment , 24 O gracious Gods , take compassion . Instill into her some celestiall fire , That she may equalize affection , And haue a mutuall loue , and loues desire . Thou know'st the force of loue , then pitty me , Compassionate my true loues ardencie . 25 Thus hauing said , he riseth from the floore , As if his soule diuined him good fortune , Hoping his prayers to pitty moou'd some power . For all his thoughts did all good luck importune . And therefore straight he strips him naked quite . That in the bedde he might haue more delight . 26 Then thus , Sweet sheetes he sayes , which nowe doe couer , The Idol of my soule , the fairest one That euer lou'd , or had an amorous louer . Earths onely modell of perfection , Sweet happy sheetes , daine for to take me in , That I my hopes and longing thoughts may win . 27 With that his nimble limbs doe kisse the sheetes , And now he bowes him for to lay him downe , And now each part , with her faire parts doe meet , Now doth he hope for to enioy loues crowne : Now doe they dally , kisse , embrace together , Like Leda's Twins at sight of fairest weather . 28 Yet all 's conceit . But shadow of that blisse Which now my Muse striues sweetly to display In this my wondrous metamorphosis . Daine to beleeue me , now I sadly say . The stonie substance of his Image feature , Was straight transform'd into a liuing creature . 29 For when his hands her faire form'd limbs had felt , And that his armes her naked wast imbraced , Each part like Waxe before the sunne did melt , And now , oh now , he finds how he is graced By his owne worke . Tut , women will relent When as they finde such mouing blandishment . 30. Doe but conceiue a Mothers passing gladnes , ( After that death her onely sonne hath seazed And ouerwhelm'd her soule with endlesse sadnes ) When that she sees him gin for to be raised From out his deadly swoune to life againe : Such ioy Pigmalion feeles in euery vaine . 31. And yet he feares he doth but dreaming find So rich content , and such celestiall blisse . Yet when he proues & finds her wondrous kind , Yeelding soft touch for touch , sweet kisse , for kisse , He 's well assur'd no faire imagery Could yeeld such pleasing , loues felicity . 32. O wonder not to heare me thus relate , And say to flesh transformed was a stone . Had I my Loue in such a wished state As was afforded to Pigmalion , Though flinty hard , of her you soone should see As strange a transformation wrought by mee . 33. And now me thinks some wanton itching eare With lustfull thoughts , and ill attention , List's to my Muse , expecting for to heare The amorous discription of that action Which Venus seekes , and euer doth require , When fitnes graunts a place to please desire . 34. Let him conceit but what himselfe would doe When that he had obtayned such a fauour , Of her to whom his thoughts were bound vnto , If she , in recompence of his loues labour , Would daine to let one payre of sheets containe The willing bodies of those louing twaine . 35. Could he , oh could he , when that each to eyther Did yeeld kind kissing and more kind embracing , Could he when that they felt , and clip ▪ t together And might enioy the life of dallying , Could he abstaine midst such a wanton sporting From doing that , which is not fit reporting ? 36. What would he doe when that her softest skin Saluted his with a delightfull kisse ? When all things fit for loues sweet pleasuring Inuited him to reape a Louers blisse ? What he would doe , the selfe same action Was not neglected by Pigmalion . 37. For when he found that life had tooke his seate Within the breast of his kind beauteous loue , When that he found that warmth , and wished heate Which might a Saint and coldest spirit moue , Then arms , eyes , hands , tong , lips , & wanton thigh , Were willing agents in Loues luxurie . 38. Who knowes not what ensues ? O pardon me Yee gaping eares that swallow vp my lines Expect no more . Peace idle Poesie , Be not obsceane though wanton in thy rimes . And chaster thoughts , pardon if I doe trip , Or if some loose lines from my pen doe slip , 39. Let this suffice , that that same happy night So gracious were the Gods of marriage Mid'st all there pleasing and long wish'd delight Paphus was got : of whom in after age Cyrus was Paphos call'd , and euermore Those Ilandars do Venus name adore . FINIS .

SATYRES .

The Authour in prayse of his precedent Poem . NOw Rufus , by old Glebrons fearefull mace Hath not my Muse deseru'd a worthy place ? Come come Luxurio , crowne my head with Bayes , Which like a Paphian , wantonly displayes The Salaminian titillations , Which tickle vp our leud Priapians . Is not my pen compleate ? are not my lines Right in the swaggering humor of these times ? O sing Peana to my learned Muse. Io bis dicite . Wilt thou refuse ? Doe not I put my Mistres in before ? And pitiously her gracious ayde implore ? Doe not I flatter , call her wondrous faire ? Vertuous , diuine most debonaire ? Hath not my Goddesse in the vaunt-gard place , The leading of my lines theyr plumes to grace ? And then ensues my stanzaes , like odd bands Of voluntaries , and mercenarians : Which like Soldados of our warlike age , March rich bedight in warlike equipage : Glittering in dawbed lac'd accoustrements , And pleasing sutes of loues habiliments . Yet puffie as Dutch hose they are within , Faint , and white liuer'd , as our gallants bin : Patch'd like a beggars cloake , and run as sweet As doth a tumbrell in the paued street . And in the end , ( the end of loue I wot ) Pigmalion hath a iolly boy begot . So Labeo did complaine his loue was stone , Obdurate , flinty , so relentlesse none : Yet Lynceus knowes , that in the end of this , He wrought as strange a metamorphosis . Ends not my Poem then surpassing ill ? Come , come , Augustus , crowne my laureat quill . Now by the whyps of Epigramatists , I le not be lasht for my dissembling shifts . And therefore I vse Popelings discipline , Lay ope my faults to Mastigophoros eyne : Censure my selfe , fore others me deride And scoffe at mee , as if I had deni'd Or thought my Poem good , when that I see My lines are froth , my stanzaes saplesse be . Thus hauing rail'd against my selfe a while , I le snarle at those , which doe the world beguile With masked showes . Ye changing Proteans list , And tremble at a barking Satyrist .

SATYRE . I. Quedam videntur , et non sunt . I Cannot show in strange proportion , Changing my hew like a Camelion . But you all-canning wits , hold water out , Yee vizarded-bifronted - Ianian rout . Tell mee browne Ruscus , hast thou Gyges ring , That thou presum'st as if thou wert vnseene ! If not . Why in thy wits halfe capreall Lett'st thou a superscribed Letter fall ? And from thy selfe , vnto thy selfe doost send , And in the same , thy selfe , thy selfe commend ? For shame leaue running to some Satrapas , Leaue glauering on him in the peopled presse : Holding him on as he through Paules doth walke , With nodds and leggs , and odde superfluous talke : Making men thinke thee gracious in his sight , When he esteemes thee but a Parasite . For shame vnmaske , leaue for to cloke intent , And show thou art vaine-glorious , impudent . Come Briscus , by the soule of Complement , I 'le not endure that with thine instrument ( Thy Gambo violl plac'd betwixt thy thighes , Wherein the best part of thy courtship lyes ) Thou entertaine the time , thy Mistres by : Come , now let s heare thy mounting Mercurie , What mum ? giue him his fiddle once againe , Or he 's more mute then a Pythagoran . But oh ! the absolute Castilio , He that can all the poynts of courtship show . He that can trot a Courser , breake a rush , And arm'd in proofe , dare dure a strawes strong push . He , who on his glorious scutchion Can quaintly show wits newe inuention , Aduauncing forth some , thirstie Tantalus , Or els the Vulture on Promethius , With some short motto of a dozen lines . He that can purpose it in dainty rimes , Can set his face , and with his eye can speake , Can dally with his Mistres dangling seake , And wish that he were it , to kisse her eye And flare about her beauties deitie . Tut , he is famous for his reueling , For fine sette speeches , and for sonetting ; He scornes the violl and the scraping sticke , And yet 's but Broker of anothers wit . Certes if all things were well knowne and view'd He doth but champe that which another chew'd . Come come Castilion , skim thy posset curd , Show thy queere substance , worthlesse , most obsurd . Take ceremonius complement from thee , Alas , I see Castilios beggery . O if Democritus were now aliue How he would laugh to see this deuill thriue ! And by an holy semblance bleare mens eyes When he intends some damned villanies . Ixion makes faire weather vnto Ioue , That he might make foule work with his faire loue , And is right sober in his outward semblance , Demure , and modest in his countenance ; Applies himselfe to great Saturnus sonne , Till Saturns daughter yeeldes his motion . Night-shining Phoebe knowes what was begat , A monstrous Centaure , illegitimate . Who would not chuck to see such pleasing sport . To see such troupes of gallants still resort Vnto Cornutos shop . What other cause But chast Brownetta , Sporo thether drawes ? Who now so long hath prays'd the Choughs white bill That he hath left her ne're a flying quill : His meaning gain , though outward semblance loue ; So like a Crabfish Sporo still doth moue . Laugh , laugh , to see the world Democritus Cry like that strange transformed Tyreus . Now Sorbo with a fayned grauity Doth fish for honour , and high dignity . Nothing within , nor yet without , but beard Which thrice he strokes , before I euer heard One wise graue word , to blesse my listning eare . But marke how Good-opinion doth him reare . See , he 's in office , on his foot-cloth placed ; Now each man caps , and striues for to be graced With some rude nod of his maiestick head , Which all doe wish in Limbo harried . But ô I grecue , that good men daine to be Slaues vnto him , that 's slaue to villany . Now Sorbo swels with selfe conceited sence , Thinking that men doe yeeld this reuerence Vnto his vertues : fond credulity ! Asse , talke of Isis , no man honours thee . Great Tubrios feather gallantly doth waue , Full twenty falls doth make him wondrous braue . Oh golden Ierkin ! royall arming coate ! Like ship on Sea , he on the land doth slote . He 's gone , he 's shipt , his resolution Pricks ( by heauen ) to this action . The poxe it doth : not long since I did view The man betake him to a common stew . And there ( I wis ) like no quaint stomack't man Eates vp his armes . And warres munition His wauing plume , falls in the Brokers chest . Fie that his Ostridge stomack should disgest His Ostridge feather : eate vp Venis-lace . Thou that did'st feare to eate Pore-Iohns aspace . Lie close ye slaue at beastly luxury ; Melt and consume in pleasures surquedry . But now , thou that did'st march with Spanish Pike before , Come with French-pox out of that brothell dore . The fleet 's return'd . What newes from Rodio ? Hote seruice , by the Lord , cryes Tubrio . Why do'st thou halt ? Why six times throgh each thigh Pusht with the Pike of the hote enemie . Hote seruice , hote , the Spaniard is a man , I say no more , and as a Gentleman I serued in his face . Farwell . Adew . Welcome from Netherland , from steaming stew . Asse to thy crib , doffe that huge Lyons skin , Or els the Owle will hoote and driue thee in . For shame , for shame , lew'd liuing Tubrio Presume not troupe among that gallant crue Of true Heroike spirits , come vncase , Show vs the true forme of Dametas face . Hence , hence ye slaue , dissemble not thy state But hence-forth be a turne-coate , runnagate . Oh hold my sides , that I may breake my spleene , With laughter at the shadowes I haue seene . Yet I can beare with Curios nimble feete Saluting me with capers in the streete , Although in open view , and peoples face , He fronts me with some spruce , neate , sincopace . Or Tullus , though when ere he me espies Straight with loud mouth ( a bandy Sir ) he cries . Or Robrus , who adic't to nimble fence , Still greetes me with Stockadoes violence . These I doe beare , because I too well know They are the same , they seeme in outward show . But all confusion seuer from mine eye This Ianian-bifront hypocrisie .

SATYRE . 2 Quedam sunt , et non videntur . I That euen now lisp'd like an Amorist , Am turn'd into a snaphaunce Satyrist . O tytle , which my iudgement doth adore ! But I dull-sprighted fat Boetian Boore , Doe farre of honour that Censorian seate . But if I could in milk-white robes intreate Plebeians fauour , I would shew to be Tribunus plebis , gainst the villany Of these same Proteans , whose hipocrisie , Doth still abuse our fond credulity . But since my selfe am not imaculate , But many spots my minde doth vitiate , I 'le leaue the white roabe , and the biting rimes Vnto our moderne Satyres sharpest lines ; Whose hungry fangs snarle at some secret sinne . And in such pitchy clouds enwrapped beene His Sphinxian ridles , that old Oedipus Would be amaz'd and take it in foule snufs That such Cymerian darknes should inuolue A quaint conceit , that he could not resolue . O darknes palpable ! Egipts black night ! My wit is stricken blind , hath lost his sight . My shins are broke , with groping for some sence To know to what his words haue reference . Certes ( sunt ) but ( non videntur ) that I know . Reach me some Poets Index that will show . Imagines Deorum . Booke of Epithites , Natales Comes , thou I know recites , And mak'st Anatomie of Poesie . Helpe to vnmaske the Satyres secresie . Delphick Apollo , ayde me to vnrip , These intricate deepe Oracles of wit . These darke Enigmaes , and strange ridling sence Which passe my dullard braines intelligence . Fie on my senceles pate ; Now I can show Thou writest that which I , nor thou , doo'st know . Who would imagine that such squint-ey'd sight Could strike the worlds deformities so right . But take heede Pallas , least thou ayme awry Loue , nor yet Hate , had ere true iudging eye . Who would once dreame that that same Elegie , That faire fram'd peece of sweetest Poesie , Which Muto put betwixt his Mistris paps , ( When he ( quick-witted ) call'd her Cruell chaps , And told her , there she might his dolors read Which she , oh she , vpon his hart had spread ) Was penn'd by Roscio the Tragedian . Yet Muto , like a good Vulcanian , An honest Cuckold , calls the bastard sonne , And brags of that which others for him done . Satyre thou lyest , for that same Elegie Is Mutos owne , his owne deere Poesie : Why t is his owne , and deare , for he did pay Ten crownes for it , as I heard Roscius say . Who would imagine yonder sober man , That same deuout meale-mouth'd Precisean , That cries good brother , kind sister , makes a duck , After the Antique grace , can alwayes pluck A sacred booke , out of his ciuill hose , And at th' op'ning , and at our stomacks close Sayes with a turn'd-vp eye a solemne grace Of halfe an houre , then with his silken face Smiles on the holy crue , And then doth cry O manners ! ô times of impurity ! With that depaints a church reformed state , The which the female tongues magnificate : Because that Platos odd opinion , Of all things ( common ) hath strong motion In their weake minds . Who thinks that this good man Is a vile , sober , damn'd , Polititian ? Not I , till with his baite of purity He bit me sore in deepest vsury . No Iew , no Turke , would vse a Christian So inhumanely as this Puritan . Diomedes Iades were not so bestiall As this same seeming-saint , vile Canniball . Take heede ô world , take heede aduisedly Of these same damned Anthropophagy . I had rather be within a Harpies clawes Then trust my selfe in their deuouring iawes . Who all confusion to the world would bring Vnder the forme of their new discipline . O I could say , Briareus hundred hands Were not so ready to bring Ioue in bands As these to set endles contentious strife Betwixt Iehoua , and his sacred wife . But see who 's yonder , true Humility The perfect image of faire Curtesie . See , he doth daine to be in seruitude Where he hath no promotions liuelihood . Marke , he doth curtsie , and salutes a block , Will seeme to wonder at a wethercock , Trenchmore with Apes , play musick to an Owle , Blesse his sweet honours running brasell bowle : Cries ( brauely broake ) when that his Lordship mist , And is of all the thurnged scaffold hist. O is not this a curteous minded man ? No foole , no , a damn'd Macheuelian . Holds candle to the deuill for a while , That he the better may the world beguile That 's fed with shows . He hopes thogh som repine , When sunne is set , the lesser starres will shine : He is within a haughty malecontent , Though he doe vse such humble blandishment . But bold-fac'd Satyre , straine not ouer hie , But laugh and chuck at meaner gullery . In fayth yon is a well fac'd Gentleman , See how he paceth like a Ciprian : Faire Amber tresses of the fairest haire That ere were waued by our London aire , Rich laced sute , all spruce , all neat in truth . Ho Linceus ! What 's yonder brisk neat youth Bout whom yon troupe of Gallants flocken so ? And now together to Brownes common goe ? Thou knowst I am sure , for thou canst cast thine eie Through nine mud wals , or els odd Poets lie . T is loose legg'd Lais , that same common Drab , For from good Tubro looke the mortall stab . Ha ha , Nay then I 'le neuer raile at those That weare a codpis , thereby to disclose What sexe they are , since strumpets breeches vse , And all mens eyes saue Linceus can abuse . Nay steed of shadow , lay the substance out , Or els faire Briscus I shall stand in doubt What sex thou art , since such Hermaphrodites Such Protean shadowes so delude our sights . Looke , looke , with what a discontented grace Bruto the trauailer doth sadly pace Long Westminster , ô ciuill seeming shade , Marke his sad colours , how demurely clad , Staidnes it selfe , and Nestors grauity Are but the shade of his ciuility . And now he sighes . O thou corrupted age , Which slight regard'st men of sound carriage , Vertue , knowledge , flie to heauen againe Daine not mong these vngratefull sots remaine . Well , some tongs I know , some Countries I haue seene And yet these oily Snailes respectles beene Of my good parts . O worthles puffie slaue ! Did'st thou to Venis goe oft els to haue ? But buy a Lute and vse a Currezan ? And there to liue like a Cyllenian ? And now from thence what hether do'st thou bring ? But surpheulings , new paints and poysonings ? Aretines pictures , some strange Luxury ? And new found vse of Venis venery ? What art thou but black clothes ? Say Bruto say Art any thing but onely say array ? Which I am sure is all thou brought'st from France , Saue Naples poxe , and French-mens dalliance . From haughty Spayne , what brought'st thou else beside , But lofty lookes , and their Lucifrian pride ? From Belgia what ? but theyr deepe bezeling , Their boote-carouse , and theyr Beere-buttering . Well , then exclaime not on our age good man , But hence poluted Neopolitan . Now Satyre cease to rub our gauled skinnes , And to vnmaske the worlds detested sinnes . Thou shalt as soone draw Nilus riuer dry , As clense the world from foule impietie .

SATYRE . 3. Quedam et sunt , et videntur . NOw grim Reprofe , swel in my rough-heu'd rime . That thou maist vexe the guilty of our time . Yon is a youth , whom how can I ore'slip , Since he so iumpe doth in my mashes hit ? He hath been longer in preparing him Then Terence wench , and now behold he 's seene . Now after two yeeres fast and earnest prayer , The fashion change not , ( least he should dispaire Of euer hoording vp more faire gay clothes ) Behold at length in London streets he showes . His ruffe did eate more time in neatest setting Then Woodstocks worke in painfull perfecting . It hath more doubles farre , then Aiax shield When he gainst Troy did furious battell weild . Nay he doth weare an Embleme bout his necke . For vnder that fayre Russe so sprucely set Appeares a fall , a falling-band forsooth . O dapper , rare , compleat , sweet nittie youth ! Ie'u Maria ! How his clothes appeare Crost , and recrost with lace , sure for some feare , Least that some spirit with a tippet Mace Should with a gastly show affright his face . His hat , himselfe , small crowne & huge great brim , Faire outward show , and little wit within . And all the band with feathers he doth fill , Which is a signe of a fantasticke still , As sure , as ( some doe tell me ) euermore A Goate doth stand before a brothell dore . His clothes perfum'd , his fustie mouth is ayred , His chinne new swept , his very cheekes are glazed . But ho , what Ganimede is that doth grace The gallants heeles . One , who for two daies space Is closely hyred . Now who dares not call This Aesops crow , fond , mad , fantasticall . Why so he is , his clothes doe sympathize , And with his inward spirit humorize . An open Asse , that is not yet so wise As his derided fondnes to disguise . Why thou art Bedlam mad , starke lunaticke , And glori'st to be counted a fantastick , Thou neyther art , nor yet will seeme to be Heire to some vertuous praised qualitie . O frantick men ! that thinke all villanie The compleate honors of Nobilitie . When some damn'd vice , som strange mishapen sute , Makes youths esteeme themselues in hie repute . O age ! in which our gallants boast to be Slaues vnto riot , and lewd luxury ! Nay , when they blush , and thinke an honest act Dooth their supposed vertues maculate ! Bedlame , Frenzie , Madnes , Lunacie , I challenge all your moody Empery Once to produce a more distracted man Then is inamorato Lucian . For when my eares receau'd a fearefull sound That he was sicke , I went , and there I found Him layd of loue , and newly brought to bed Of monstrous folly , and a franticke head . His chamber hang'd about with Elegies , With sad complaints of his loues miseries : His windowes strow'd with Sonnets , and the glasse Drawne full of loue-knots . I approcht the Asse , And straight he weepes , and sighes some sonnet out To his faire loue . And then he goes about For to perfume her rare perfection With some sweet-smelling pinck Epitheton . Then with a melting looke he writhes his head , And straight in passion riseth in his bed ; And hauing kist his hand , stroke vp his haire , Made a French conge , cryes . O cruell feare To the antique Bed-post . I laught a maine That down my cheeks the mirthful drops did raine . Well he 's no Ianus , but substantiall , In show , and essence a good naturall . When as thou hear'st me aske spruce Duceus From whence he comes . And hee straight answers vs , From Lady Lilla . And is going straight To the Countesse of ( ) for she doth waite His comming . And will surely send her Coach , Vnlesse he make the speedier approch . Art not thou ready for to breake thy spleene At laughing at the fondnes thou hast seene In this vaine-glorious foole ? When thou dost know He neuer durst vnto these Ladies show His pippin face . Well , he 's no accident , But reall , reall , shamelesse , impudent . And yet he boasts , and wonders that each man Can call him by his name , sweet Ducean : And is right proude that thus his name is knowne . I , Duceus , I , thy name is too farre blowne . The world too much , thy selfe too little know'st Thy priuate selfe . Why then should Duceus boast ? But humble Satyre , wilt thou daine display These open naggs , which purblind eyes bewray ? Come , come , and snarle more darke at secrete sin , which in such Laborinths enwrapped bin , That Ariadne I must craue thy ayde To helpe me finde where this soule monster 's layd , Then will I driue the Minotaure from vs , And seeme to be a second Theseus .

REACTIO . NOW doth Ramnusia Adrastian , Daughter of Night , and of the Ocean Prouoke my pen . What cold Saturnian Can hold , and heare such vile detraction ? Yee Pines of Ida , shake your fayre growne height , For Ioue at first dash will with thunder fight . Yee Cedars bend , fore lightning you dismay , Yee Lyons tremble , for an Asse doth bray . Who cannot raile ? what dog but dare to barke Gainst Phaebes brightnes in the silent darke ? what stinking Scauenger ( if so he will Though streets be fayre , ) but may right easily fill , His dungy tumbrel ? sweep , pare , wash , make cleane , Yet from your fairnes he some durt can gleane . The windie-chollicke striu'd to haue some vent , And now t is flowne , and now his rage is spent . So haue I seene the fuming waues to fret , And in the end , naught but white soame beget . So haue I seene the sullen clowdes to cry , And weepe for anger that the earth was dry After theyr spight , that all the haile-shot drops Could neuer pierce the christall water tops , And neuer yet could worke her more disgrace But onely bubble quiet Thetis face . Vaine enuious detractor from the good what Cynicke spirit rageth in thy blood ? Cannot a poore mistaken title scape But thou must that into thy Tumbrell scrape ? Cannot some lewd , immodest beastlines Lurke , and lie hid in iust forgetfulnes , But Grillus subtile-smelling swinish snout Must sent , and grunt , and needes will finde it out ? Come daunce yee stumbling Satyres by his side If he lift once the Syon Muse deride . Ye Granta's white Nymphs , come & with you bring Some sillabub , whilst he doth sweetly sing Gainst Peters teares , and Maries mouing moane , And like a fierce enraged Boare doth foame At sacred Sonnets . O daring hardiment ! At Bartas sweet Semaines , raile impudent At Hopkins , Sternhold , and the Scottish King , At all Translators that doe striue to bring That stranger language to our vulgar tongue , Spett in thy poyson theyr faire acts among . Ding them all downe from faire Ierusalem , And mew them vp in thy deserued Bedlem . Shall Painims honor , their vile falsed gods With sprightly wits ? and shall not we by ods Farre , farre , more striue with wits best quintessence To adore that sacred euer-liuing Essence ? Hath not strong reason moou'd the Legists mind , To say the fayrest of all Natures kinde The Prince by his prerogatiue may claime ? Why may not then our soules without thy blame , ( which is the best thing , that our God did frame ) Deuote the best part to his sacred Name ? And with due reuerence and deuotion Honor his Name with our inuention ? No , Poesie not fit for such an action , It is defild with superstition : It honord Baule , therefore polute , polute , Vnfit for such a sacred institute . So haue I heard an Heritick maintaine The Church vnholy , where Iehouas Name Is now ador'd : because he surely knowes Some-times it was defil'd with Popish showes . The Bells profane , and not to be endur'd , Because to Popish rites they were inur'd . Pure madnes peace , cease to be insolent , And be not outward sober , inlye impudent . Fie inconsiderate , it greeueth me An Academick should so senceles be . Fond Censurer ! Why should those mirrors seeme So vile to thee ? which better iudgements deeme Exquisite then , and in our polish'd times . May , run for sencefull tollerable lines . What , not mediocria firma from thy spight ? But must thy enuious hungry fangs needs light On Magistrates mirrour ? must thou needs detract And striue to worke his antient honors wrack ? What , shall not Rosamond , or Gaueston , Ope their sweet lips without detraction ? But must our moderne Critticks enuious eye Seeme thus to quote some grosse deformity ? Where Art , not error shineth in their stile , But error and no Art doth thee beguile . For tell me Crittick , is not Fiction The soule of Poesies inuention ? Is' t not the forme ? the spirit ? and the essence ? The life ? and the essentiall difference ? Which omni , semper , soli , doth agree To heauenly discended Poesie ? Thy wit God comfort mad Chirurgion What , make so dangerous an Incision ? At first dash whip away the instrument Of Poets Procreation ? fie ignorant ! When as the soule , and vitall blood doth rest And hath in Fiction onely interest ? What Satyre sucke the soule from Poesie And leaue him spritles ? ô impiety ! Would euer any erudite Pedant Seeme in his artles lines so insolent ? But thus it is when pitty Priscians . Will needs step vp to be Censorians . When once they can in true skan'd verses frame A braue Encomium of good Vertues name . Why thus it is , when Mimick Apes will striue with Iron wedge the trunks of Oakes to riue . But see , his spirit of detraction Must nible at a glorious action . Euge ! some gallant spirit , some resolued blood will hazard all to worke his Countries good And to enrich his soule , and raise his name will boldly saile vnto the rich Guiane . What then ? must straight some shameles Satyrist with odious and opprobrius termes insist To blast so high resolu'd intention with a malignant vile detraction ? So haue I seene a curre dogge in the streete Pisse gainst the fairest posts he still could meete . So haue I seene the march wind striue to fade The fairest hewe that Art , or Nature made . So Enuy still doth barke at clearest shine And striues to staine heroyick acts , deuine . well , I haue cast thy water , and I see Th' art falne to wits extreamest pouerty , Sure in Consumption of the spritely part . Goe vse some Cordiall for to cheere thy hart : Or els I feare that I one day shall see Thee fall , into some dangerous Litargie . But come fond Bragart , crowne thy browes with Bay Intrance thy selfe in thy sweet extasie . Come , manumit thy plumie pinion , And scower the sword of Eluish champion , Or els vouchsafe to breathe in wax-bound quill , And daine our longing eares with musick fill : Or let vs see thee some such stanzaes frame That thou maist raise thy vile inglorious name . Sommon the Nymphs and Driades to bring Some rare inuention , whilst thou doost sing So sweet , that thou maist shoulder from aboue The Eagle from the staires of freendly Ioue : And leade sad Pluto Captiue with thy song , Gracing thy selfe , that art obscur'd so long . Come somewhat say ( but hang me when t is done ) Worthy of brasse , and hoary marble stone ; Speake yee attentiue Swaines that heard him neuer Will not his Pastorals indure for euer ? Speake yee that neuer heard him ought but raile Doe not his Poems beare a glorious faile ? Hath not he strongly iustled from aboue The Eagle from the staires of friendly Ioue ? May be , may be , tut t is his modesty , He could if that he would , nay would if could I see . Who cannot raile ? and with a blasting breath Scorch euen the whitest Lillies of the earth Who cannot stumble in a stuttering stile ? And shallow heads with seeming shades beguile ? Cease , cease , at length to be maleuolent , To fairest bloomes of Vertues eminent . Striue not to soile the freshest hewes on earth With thy malitious and vpbraiding breath . Ennie , let Pines of Ida rest alone , For they will growe spight of thy thunder stone , Striue not to nible in their swelling graine With toothles gums of thy detracting braine : Eate not thy dam , but laugh and sport with me At strangers follies with a merry glee . Let s not maligne our kin . Then Satyrist I doe salute thee with an open fist .

SATYRE . 4 Parua magna , magna nulla . AMbitious Gorgons , wide-mouth'd Lamians , Shape-changing Proteans , damn'd Briareans , Is Minos dead ? is Radamanth a sleepe ? That yee thus dare vnto Ioues Pallace creepe ? what , hath Ramnusia spent her knotted whip ? That yee dare striue on Hebes cup to sip ? Yet know Apolloes quiuer is not spent But can abate your daring hardiment . Python is slaine , yet his accursed race , Dare looke deuine Astrea in the face : Chaos returne , and with confusion Inuolue the world with strange disunion : For Pluto sits in that adored chaire which doth belong vnto Mineruas heire . O Hecatombe ! Hue vsque Xylinum . ô Catastrophe ! From Mydas pompe , to Irus beggery . Promethius , who celestiall fier Did steale from heauen , therewith to inspire Our earthly bodies with a sence-full mind , whereby we might the depth of Nature find , Is ding'd to hell , and vulture eates his hart which did such deepe Philosophy impart To mortall men . when theeuing Mercury That euen in his new borne infancy Stole faire Apollos quiuer , and Ioues mace , And would haue filch'd the lightning from his place , But that he feard'd he should haue burnt his wing And sing'd his downy feathers new come spring ; He that in gastly shade of night doth leads Our soules , vnto the empire of the dead . When he that better doth deserue a rope Is a faire planet in our Horoscope . And now hath Caduceus in his hand Of life and death that hath the sole command . Thus petty thefts are payed , and soundly whipt , But greater crimes are slightly ouerslipt : Nay he 's a God that can doe villany with a good grace , and glib facility . The harmles hunter , with a ventrous eye When vnawares he did Diana spie , Nak'd in the fountaine he became straightway Vnto his greedy hounds a wished pray , His owne delights taking away his breath , And all vngratefull forc'd his fatall death . ( And euer since Hounds eate their Maisters cleane , For so Diana curst them in the streame . ) When strong backt Hercules in one poore night With great , great ease , and wondrous delight In strength of lust and Venus surquedry Rob'd fifty wenches of virginity . Farre more then lusty Laurence . Yet poore soule He with Acteon drinks of Nemis bole , When Hercules lewd act , is registred , And for his fruitfull labour Deified . And had a place in heauen him assigned When he the world , vnto the world resigned . Thus little scapes are deepely punished , But mighty villanes are for Gods adored . Ioue brought his sister to a nuptiall bed , And hath an Hebe , and a Ganemede , A Leda , and a thousand more beside , His chast Alcmena , and his sister bride : Who fore his face was odiously defil'd And by Ixion grosely got with child . This thunderer , that right vertuously Thrust forth his father from his empery Is now the great Monarko of the earth , Whose awfull nod , whose all commaunding breath Shakes Europs ground-worke . And his title makes Rey●… mi●… De●… que As dread a noyse , as when a Canon shakes The subtile ayre . Thus hell-bred villany Is still rewarded with high dignity . When Sisyphus that did but once reueale That this incestious villane had to deale In I le Phliunte with Egina faire , Is damn'd to hell , in endles black dispaire Euer to reare his tumbling stone vpright Vpon the steepy mountaines lofty height . His stone will neuer now get greenish mosse Since he hath thus encur'd so great a losse As Ioues high fauour . But it needs must be whilst Ioues doth rule , and sway the empery And poore Astrea's fled into an Ile And liues a poore and banished exile : And there pen'd vp , sighs in her sad lament , wearing away in pining languishment . If that Sylenus Asse doe chaunce to bray , And so the Satyres lewdnes doth bewray , Let him for euer be a sacrifice , Prick , spurre , beate , loade , for euer tyranise Ouer the foole . But let some Cerberus Keepe back the wife of sweet tongu'd Orpheus , Gnato applaudes the Hound . Let that same child Of Night , and Sleepe , ( which hath the world defil'd with odious railing ) barke gainst all the work Of all the Gods , and find some error lurke In all the graces . Let his lauer lip Speake in reproch of Natures workmanship , Let him vpbraid faire Venus if he list For her short heele . Let him with rage insist To snarle at Vulcans man , because he was Not made with windowes of transparant glas That all might see the passions of his mind . Let his all-blasting tongue great errors find In Pallas house , because if next should burne It could not from the sodaine perill turne . Let him vpbraide great Ioue with luxury Condemne the Heauens Queene of ielousie . Yet this same Stygius Momus must be praysed And to some Godhead at the least be raised . But if poore Orpheus sing melodiously , And striue with musicks sweetest symphonie To praise the Gods , and vnaduisedly Doe but ore-slip one drunken Deitie , Forthwith the bouzing Bacchus out doth send His furious Bacchides , to be reueng'd . And straight they teare the sweet Musition , And leaue him to the dogs deuision . Hebrus , beare witnes of their crueltie , For thou did'st view poore Orpheus tragedie . Thus slight neglects are deepest villanie , But blasting mouthes deserue a deitie . Since Gallus slept , when he was set to watch Least Sol or Vulcan should Mauortius catch In vsing Venus : since the boy did nap , Whereby bright Phoebus did great Mars intrap . Poore Gallus now , ( whilom to Mars so deere ) Is turned to a crowing Chaunteclere ; And euer since , sore that the sunne doth shine , ( Least ) Phoebus should with his all-peircing eyne Disery some Vulcan , ) he doth crow full shrill , That all the ayre with Ecchoes he doth fill . Whilst Mars , though all the Gods doe see his sin , And know in what lewd vice he lieuth in , Yet is adored still , and magnified , And with all honors duly worshipped . Fi●●e ! small faults to mountaines straight are raised , Slight scapes are whipt , but damned deeds are praised . Fie , fie , I am deceiued all thys while , A mist of errors doth my sence beguile ; I haue beene long of all my wits bereauen , Heauen for hell taking , taking hell for heauen ; Vertue for vice , and vice for vertue still , Sower for sweet , and good for passing ill . If not ? would vice and odious villanie Be still rewarded with high dignity ? Would damned Iouians , be of all men praised , And with high honors vnto heauen raised ? T is so , t is so ; Riot , and Luxurie Are vertuous , meritorious chastitie : That which I thought to be damn'd hel-borne pride Is humble modestie , and naught beside ; That which I deemed Bacchus surquedry , Is graue , and stained , ciuill , Sobrietie . O then thrice holy age , thrice sacred men ! Mong whom no vice a Satyre can discerne , Since Lust , is turned into Chastitie , And Riot , vnto sad Sobrietie . Nothing but goodnes raigneth in our age , And vertues all are ioyn'd in marriage . Heere is no dwelling for Impietie , No habitation for base Villanie . Heere are no subiects for Reproofes sharpe vaine , Then hence rude Satyre , make away amaine ; And seeke a seate where more Impuritie Doth lye and lurke in still securitie . Now doth my Satyre stagger in a doubt , Whether to cease , or els to write it out . The subiect is too sharpe for my dull quill . Some sonne of Maya show thy riper skill . For I 'le goe turne my tub against the sunne , And wistly marke how higher Plannets runne , Contemplating their hidden motion . Then on some Latmos with Endimion , I 'le slumber out my time in discontent , And neuer wake to be maleuolent , A beedle to the worlds impuritie ; But euer sleepe in still securitie . If thys displease the worlds wrong-iudging sight , It glads my soule , and in some better spright I 'le write againe . But if that this doe please , Hence , hence , Satyrick Muse , take endlesse ease . Hush now yee Band-doggs , barke no more at me , But let me slide away in secrecie . Epictetus FINIS .