A whippe for worldlings or The centre of content Taylor, Stephen, fl. 1637. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A13526 of text S111398 in the English Short Title Catalog (STC 23818). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 31 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 11 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A13526 STC 23818 ESTC S111398 99846754 99846754 11741 2240922512

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 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. A13526) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 11741) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 399:13) A whippe for worldlings or The centre of content Taylor, Stephen, fl. 1637. [24] p., plate s.n., [S.l. : 1637?] "To the reader" signed: Stephen Taylor. In verse. The title page is engraved. Publication date conjectured by STC; "printed abroad". Signatures: A-C⁴. Reproduction of the original in the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery. eng eebo A whippe for worldlings or The centre of content Taylor, Stephen, 1637 21 5133 6 0 0 0 0 0 11.69 C The rate of 11.69 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the C category of texts with between 10 and 35 defects per 10,000 words. 2011-10 Assigned for keying and markup 2011-10 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2012-01 Sampled and proofread 2012-01 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2012-05 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

A WHIPPE FOR WORLDLINGS OR THE CENTRE OF CONTENT

Vt Paūsūs Viperam Su P●●●s Vanitatem engraved title page

To the Reader . MY modest lines thy milder censure craves , They kicke not at authoritie , outbraves No poore deiected soul , faine would they tell , That greatnes , goodnes , should together dwell , The rich , in spirit poore , the poore should be Rich in all graces , with humilitie . That Monarches , Iudges , Magistrates , yea all The Civill as Ecclesiasticall , Should so discharge their places in love , feare , As shortly to receive their loane else where ; That those of lowe degree themselves demeane , As may their blest profession best beseeme , Giving all men their due , below , above , So shall they die in peace , who liv'd in love ; That neither wise in wisedome , strong in might , Rich in his riches glorie ; but as right Give God the praise , so vse those giftes him lent As a good steward , Gods blest instrument ; That the afflicted , those with tempests toss'd , Vncomforted , give not themselves for lost , Although their drinke be teares commix'd with gall , He that did wound , can heale , can kill , recall To life , affliction touchstone like doth trie The reines , the hart ; as fire doth purifie The Gold , so they the Saints ; though now they mourne , Their sweet release to greater ioy shall turne . Right precious in his sight are all Gods Saints , At rest , forgets not God , distress'd , not faints , Living , vnto the Lord they live , and die In him , to live with him eternally . Good , gentle , peacefull Reader , I present This masse thus dress'd vnto thee ; my intent Is good , if here be ought that 's for thy vse If thou find profite by it , no abuse , Receive it from thy freind in love , and say Th' art promis'd , if God will , an higher lay . Thine STEPHEN TAYLOR .
Ad Avarum O sorem huiusce libelli & rosorem . FAsciculum 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Florum ( Diodore ) paravit Dic mihi , quid sentis ? non probo . Sentis inest . Dic , vbi te pungit ? digitos . Mentiris inepte . Non digitos pungit , pungit at hic animum . Tu curas depone tuas , quae sunt magè sentes , Et rosa tunc redolens , quod modò sentis , erit . Authori Amico obtulit Mich: Edmonds .
A WHIPPE FOR WORLDLINGS OR THE CENTRE OF CONTENT . WHy should the boundles ill-disposed mind Of brittle man , vnconstant as the wind , With swelling pride , disdainefull arrogance , Seeke to himself the worlds sole governance ? Alas , so small a part would him suffice , ( If glorie vaine blent not his Reasons eyes ) That he should find that who possesseth least Ha's most content , which is that God-like Feast ; That onely Summum bonum here belowe , That myrrour cleare through which we most things knowe ; That glasse of glorie , by whose helpe we see Those secret mysteries of divinitie , That richest Iewell , which the Gods impart To those that them adore with simple heart ; Whose powers ; blessednes , no tongue can tell Saue that which dipp'd hath bene in th' living well . Why are wee puffed vp ? or rather why ( Knowing our weakenes our deepe miserie , ) With humbled soul , heart thankefull , chearfull grace , Do'nt we his mercies bountifull embrace ? No , no , our natures are so prone to ill , That little good we knowe ; if knowe , not will . Much like the daughters of the watry leach By wisedomes Magazine describ'd , which reach Out their wide throates after the bloodie prize , The more insatiate they gulpe , the more their cries Are , give , give ; Such is our wretched state , Fretting our souls with cares intemperate , With restles thoughts , & carkings pining seeke We Mammons pois'ned treasures , which to keepe Our minds are charg'd with doubts , & bloudles feares , Our spirits all consumes , exciccates , seares . We plunge our selves into the lowest deeps With raving madnes , where vs nothing meets But moaning sorrowe , greife remediles , Heart-burning hate , wasting disquietnes , Squint-ey'd suspect , foaming revenge , despight , All-dreaded horrour , shaking pale-look'd affright , Blood-stained treason , faithles disloyaltie , Corrupted iustice , self eating Iealousie Deceite , whose faire fil'd tongue is ever found To his hart discord , sharpe , yet no true sound ; And after followes him that monster vilde With gastfull lookes , eyes hollowe , all defilde About his chinne , his loathsome beard & brest With filthy-colour'd stinking matter prest Through his blacke irkesome teeth , that him to see , Would turne a stomacke strong ; ( call'd Periurie ) Then simonie , too welcome now a ghest To greatest Prelates , & the surest rest ( In these corrupted times ) to those that be Poorer in parts than purse , in Arts than fee , But murder lurkes this while , & vnespi'de Would gladly scape our sight , & steale aside ; His colour is too splendent , his path way Too much is beaten , so that every day , Nay every houre , where e'r we be , report Dolefull is made of him in heavie sort . Light-shunning shame with causes first and last Make hast to followe them before that past . Then comes despaire , in whose distracted looke Well may you read her lesson without booke , With speaking gesture , most vnconstant gate , With raving words still cryes out , ( all too late , ) Voice heavie , hollowe , hoarce , with a resound Much like an emptie caue farre vnder ground ; Faine would she weepe , to give her self som ease , But cannot weepe , nor greife in least appease , The fountaine's drie , her braine the spring is spent , All moisture gone , nought left saue sad lament . With leaden feet her numbred steps she treads Sometimes where Fortune , not where Iudgment leads , When she augments her torments , tortures dire , And adds light fuell to her flaming fire . Now bends her browes against the sparkling skie , And then cast downe groueling in dust doth lie , Cursing the Fates , the Powers aboue , and all That either made her man , or man let fall . And then againe as mildly doth she bless The state of men , ( than Angells not much less ) That flie in time Satans temptation , And worke with feare their owne salvation ! But sodainely vpstarting from this Muse , She flies as fast as if she wings did vse ; Or as the speedie poste of heaven had lent Her ( for more hast ) th' aire cutting instrument . All bootes not thoe , she finds where e'r she flie Death , death eternall doth within her lie : The vulture , as on Tityus , so doth gnawe Her wastles bowels , easeles pangs to drawe ; And with Ixion turned on a wheele , Rack'd as Typhaeus , while each joynt doth feele Worse than Perillus paines , ( that did invent The brasen Bull his owne deaths instrument . ) Thus , wretched earth wormes , doe we pull amaine Our souls losse on vs for the slightest gaine , Gaine did I call it ? When no tongue can tell , How great 's the losse , when heavens exchang'd for hell . No matter what the man is , so ha's wealth , How qualify'd in mind , if riche in pelfe : His Father dy'd but lately , left him store , His Vncle 's sicke , whose death shall bring much more ; Sweet daughter , give his first access some grace , A pleasant smile from that thy lovely face , No matter though his stiffe benummed joynts Haue vs'd the flaile , more than those nicer points Of gentile exercise ; can he not dance ? Nor curbe the cornefed steed with couched lance In hand ? nor sing , nor court , nor play On lute , or violl , or on that they say Arion did repay the Dolphines loue ? What then ( my Doll ) this must thy thoughts not moue , These complete youths , when they haue spent their ' states , May goe and scrape in consort with their mates . My pretty girle , thy mother well did knowe , ( O giue mee aqua vitae , else I goe To meet her in Elysium , for her name Makes sodaine cold to runne through every veine ) I say she knew , good Creature , how that I , Though ne'r instructed in such fopperie , Could play my part , and frisking skippe about The merrie Maypole , till I her cull'd out From 'mongst the route , those were the happy daies , We were not then so nice , so coy ; what saies My darling ? how ? gippe gossip , hoe Are you so proud now growne , well , you shall knowe That I your Father am , ha's he no wit ? He cannot speake , nor looke , nor goe , nor sit , What though he cannot write nor read a letter ? Is not than all of these his meanes much better ? One casts her self away in best of age Vpon a cree ping goate meerly for gage , And daignes that rotten bulke to cull & kisse , And smiling tells him he Adonis is . When as his toothles gummes , his restles cough She hates in heart and privately does scoffe , Is he not wel at ease ? O then she cries , My dearest Lord , my all-delight , my joyes , Where is your paine ? tell mee where lies your smart , I need not aske , I feele it at my heart . So doe we Symphathize . O I could rend The haire from of my head , but to what end ? All will not help ; good Sir , consider well Be fore your death your poorer freinds that dwell In the next village , for they haue children small , And little meanes ( God knowes ) to help withall , For mee there'l be enough , I am but one , And when you die , with mee the world is gone ; Or if , that care you doe impose on mee , My loue to you in them the world shall see . Now ha's she wonne him , straight he does enfeoft Her in his whole estate , and nothing's left Vndone , but to enioy ; yet him recover'd In mind she cannot brooke , but undiscover'd , Covers with vaile of false dy'd joy , & he , Ravish'd therwith , seemes now in heaven to be , But yet for her , this wind no haver shakes , For more content some other shifte she makes ; Fall backe , fall edge , man ha's no perfect power ; If not as wife , she 'l haue it as a — . Nor the endowments rare of largest mind In Ethicles , to vertues lore inclin'd , Nor yet his personage , admired grace , Nor honours due moue Lycia faire an ace ; With the same sauce too is Melissus seru'd , Passius his dish delighted in ha's caru'd . For he was rich , his father left him heire Of all his goods , & basenes to an haire . But those Heroicke spirits , right Noble brests , True glories darlings , Pallas delighted ghests , The Muses favourites , base earth disdaines , And all those tempting trifles from her veines Suck'd by her leane-chopd slaues , their eyes are bent Vpon the mind , not these goods contingent ; Nor painted weeds , bigge lookes , affected gate Of Pluto's gorgeous sonnes infatuate Their sounder judgments , but where vertue cleare Or any parts deserving shall appeare , Though clad in ragges , & coverd with the scorne Of fortunes butterflies , seeming forlorne , Them they will honour , and respect much more Than thousand Braggadocho's nam'd before . Not meanes , but men ; not state , but studies deepe , Not pride , but fruitfull lore their favours keepe . What though the vpstart gallants of these times , Mounted aloft by Parents damned crimes , Spreading their tailes as Peacockes , thee deride With obscure house , base blood on either side ? Forgetting what their fathers were , and how They purchas'd that of which they vaunt so now . One by long suite , and some small feeling by Vnto the favour'd of his Majestie , In forraigne service , or last expedition , Or else at home in one less-lou'd Commission , Procur'd an office , when he so well did licke His fingers , that his sonnes doe find it sticke Still by their ribbes . Another ha's suck'd drie Three better gentlemen , that dwelt him by , Their charge was great , large debts they had to pay , The times were hard , their tenants begg'd delay In paiment of their rents , so they much strain'd , Made use of this their neighbour , when he gain'd His hearts desire , then he himself does bless Hugging his fortune , and wish'd happiness . With countenance compos'd , & long drawne speech ( After excuse ) his mony will not reach Vnto so high a summe , he lets them knowe ; But glad would be , if that he could but showe In that or any service , his affection deare Which he to them and theirs did ever beare . well , they 'l make shifte then with what he can spare : And one vpon his sonne bestowes a mare In token of acceptance ; Sr. forbeare , Your bountie's vnderseru'd , he sha'nt I sweare . well , I must rest your debtor ; yet , Sr , I pray That this your morgage may be seal'd to day , For we are mortall all , & knowe not when Our living souls shall leave their fleshie den . His will obtain'd by reasons large alledg'd , All deemes he as his owne , for surely wedg'd He finds himself in their estates , and plods Now how to set them that were freinds at odds . He knowes that lawyers loadstones are , they 'l looke What fish there comes to net by hooke or crooke To make their prize , than which he seekes not more ( He payes not great that cannot lesser score , Nor can he much that is not world before . ) In fine , possession he ha's got & holds , This is their glorie , this their heart embolds . Another was Protector to a child , His kinsman neare , of nature good and mild , For love of whose great Fortunes he does send To some part farre remote , his daies to spend , Telling him travells much enrich the mind , And the affections rude in order bind ; When counsell he ha's got of Doctors graue , Who told him plainely , there 's no hope to saue His life , if thither he his course doe steare , Which as his natures antype doth appeare . If this tricke misse , his braine affords one more , Prosper not that , he finds out yet a score ; For die he must , his thoughts can have no rest , Till of those goods & lands he be possess'd . Vnnam'd there rests one yet , who knew full well ( For which he howles now 'mongst the feinds in hell ) To raise himself , and gaine a noted name , By being Authour of his daughters shame : She was a comely creature , in whose face All men would say beautie sate link'd with grace ; Too sweet a girle , so base a Sire to have , Better for her if th' wombe had bene her grave . He plaies the Pander , what 's her part you 'l judge , But this is to a Lord , that will not grudge Nor stand to question his demands , but grant What he in fewest words pretends to want . May not these outsides then well boast of blood , Of honour'd stocke , of house as old as Lud ? But let me leave such froathes , & shadowes vaine , Leading my Muse to our digressed aime : What though these heape upon thee bitter scorne ? Thy worth shall aye appeare as brightest morne , Or as that starre daies noted harbinger , Wish'd comfort to the home-bent travailer . A Pilgrimage thou know'st this life to be , Pilgrimes should fast , not feast in jollitie . If great thy burden , slower is thy pace , How lesser laden , bettet is thy case : The way is heavy , full of thornes & briars , With doubt full windings many men that tires , Hast thou wher with fraile nature to suffice ? Thou ha'st enough ; thou art in happie guise , And little her contents , why then should we Needles with such great weights oppressed be ? Thou think'st thy share but small , thy lot too meane , Thy part most matchles tragicke in the sceane , Yet let not Passions raging tirannie Robbe reason of her due regalitie , Then shalt thou set the case is altred quite , Thou art not miser , but an happie wight . Thou art not King , nor Keiser in degree , Cares attend crownes , dire feares regalitie ' . Scarce can the charmes of Morpheus blacke constraine Their wearied sences to obay his raigne , When others sleepe in quiet , they opprest With ferall perturbations find no rest . If eate , or drinke , or ride , or sit , or lie , In every place , and in all companie , Both daie night and with restles thoughts & doubts They cruciate their souls , yet nothing bootes . How many mightie Monarchs of the earth Have liv'd in constant trouble from their birth ? How ha's Dame Fortune toss'd them as a ball ? When at the height of glorie then they fall . Ag'd Priamus descended of high loue , Whome fiftie sonnes did father call , that stroue With Greeces cheifest Champions , what more greife Rain'd forth his bleeding life without releife Iust at the Altar ? Why should I stand to name That greatest Caesar by the Senate slaine ? Or Cleopatra , Egipts queene , that di'd By winding serpents poison'd stings , to glide To her beloved Anthony , before Who tooke his journey to the stygian shore ? Or yet that craftie King ( Iugurtha nam'd , For policie , & feates of armes much fam'd ) Of Numidea great Commander ; t'ane By Marius , brought vn to Rome there slaine ? Or powerfull Bellisarius , whose highs deeds Rome , yea and all the world with wonder feeds , And yet constrained was through want to pray For small releife to them that pass'd his way ? No Catalogue of this I seeke to make Of greatest Peires that share in Fates did take ; This is no Chronicle , my taske's not such ; ( Onely as fit ) I give you but a touch . Goe further yet , and see those Princes rare That ( Atlas like ) the world on Shoulders bare , Whose Divine wisedome makes their neighbours quake Those less in strength , whose very words doe make Those that were mortall foes to lay downe armes , And then ( as Beacon ) being fired them warnes Vnto Bellona's Court , which way he bends , Observantly their resolution tends : They humbly seeke his counsell farre & neare , And as an Oracle his sentence feare ; Yet for all this he murmur'd at shall be By the rude sencesuall sence lesse Com'naltie . O those most blessed daies , that they haue seene Caus'd by the warres with such a King or Queene Still yelpe they out ; or heare they news of warres Their note is chang'd , what good is got by jarres ? Keepes he a Court magnificent ? they crie Such riot brings our land to beggerie . Or is he frugall to encrease the store The treasurie exhausted long before ? Then he 's ignoble , then he seekes their shame , He loues not honour , is no child of fame . If yong , he spends his time in dalliance With his faire Queene , neglecting governance . If strucke in yeares , tush , then he 's growne a sot , Ne what of state or rule knowes he a jot . Or haue their crying sinnes with a strong hand Pull'd from the Lord a judgement on the land ? Whether by dearth , or warre , or faintnes chill , A coldnes at the heart , a listles ill , Which makes their lookes more setled , bloodles , sad , Than if an ague strong them shaken had , Which takes away all charitie and loue , ( That onely makes man like the Gods aboue ) All due respect , freindship , good neighbour hood , Dries vp affection even in nearest blood , When we can see without relenting heart Our brothers wretched , wofull , easeles smart , When we vnmou'd as sencles blockes can see Subject of pittie , depth of miserie : When traffique is block'd vp within the land , And mony ( life of trade ) in misers hand , When every one seekes to devoure each other , ( Like ravening wolues ) let him be freind or brother : When these , and such like plagues are felt so soare , They looke not to the cause , but basely roare Out bitter exclamations 'gainst their King For this their just deserved suffering . Like as th' Ichneumon ( little beast ) does steale Into the bellie of the Crocodile , Beaking himself vpon the sunny shoare Of fertile Nile , gorg'd till he can no more , And there lies gnawing of his panch so vast , Till he his life from monstrous corps ha's cast . Or as that living Mountaine , natures wonder , That by his powerfull passage causes thunder In the Atlanticke sea , cutting with strength The foamie waues , and floods does cast in length Many a furlong with resistles finnes , Which Triton much amaz'd , from revellings And Courtly entertainment makes to rise , Sending about to every part his spies For quicke advise , if any there should be , That might in question call his soveraigntie , Answere is brought , the whale strength of disdanie ; By the small sword fish late receiv'd his bane . The loftie Pine is subject to the ire Of raging loud-tongu'd Boreas , all on fire To hasten wrackfull mischeife , & the fall Of him aspiring and the Cedar tall . When as the shrubbes , the lesser trees , that growe Under their shadowe , ( shrowded safely lowe ) Find no disturbance , but in peace doe liue And kindly fruites in season due doe giue . Is a slight Cottage blowne vnto the ground ? We take no notice of so dead a sound ; But when a towre , whose spire most eminent , Threatning the Clouds by thunder bolt is rent , Or cast to humble earth by kindled wrath Of all-commanding Iupiter , dismai'th , And makes with fearfull cold their blood to freeze , That dwel within the hearing , or that sees Its roaring downefal ; so man of meane degree Lives more at ease , and less in jeopardie . Is not thy state so high ? thy store so great ? Thy bagges so stuff'd with coine ? nor yet thy seat So pleasant or commodious ? what then ? Wilt thou repine ? O no , but thinke on them , On them most wretched creatures , slaues to woe , That never fortune knew but as a foe ; Who never sawe an happie day or houre , But always liv'd a pris'ner in the towre Of miserie ; the chearfull lookes of joy They seldome could discover ; greife , annoy , Sorrowe , laments , afflictions , heavines , Teares , discontents , troubles , disquietnes , Where e'r they goe , attendance strictly giues , And followes them precise as relatiues . Many a wearie steppe they faintly tread Without the sust'nance of a peice of bread , When fierie Titan drives his scortching teame Bet wixt the glitt'ring Cup and Diademe . Nor house , nor shelter haue they , to defend Them selves from cruell blasts , & stormes which rend Strong Oakes vp by the roots ; the pinching cold , And biting frostes they must endure , which old Sterne wrathfull winter casts vpon the earth , By thee allay'd and qualify'd with mirth ; When thou in bed of downe thy limbes doest stretch , With peircing pangs their feeble breath they fetch , Thou art encompass'd with thy freinds about , With feeling words to answere every doubt , That quick'ning counsell , tempred with sweet voice , Will freely , in due season , in termes choice , Administer to thy distracted mind , Casting thy cares , feares , scruples , farre behind ; Thrice happie wert thou , if thou didst but knowe with what great good thy Cup doth overflowe . The Ape vnto the Mole complaint did make Of his tailes want , ( his ornament , ) but take Th' ansvvere , vnworthy creature , thou shouldst be More thankfull , when my blindnes thou do'st see . If all the world their greivances should bring Of bodie , mind , and fortune , for to fling In one place all together , wouldst thou share In their division equall ? no , I feare . with Eagles eyes , thou pry'st into thy wants , But seest not thine excess ; whilest thousands vaunts Of the bare hopes , they haue for to enjoy Some part of that thou slightest , mak'st a toy , A thing of nought ; the grace & bounteous love Of thy good God despising ; do'nt remove , O do'nt remove by thy repining cares His sweet refreshinge favour , which he beares To thee not worthie of thy blest creation , A man , a Christian , nor of preservation . How many at this instant lie inthrall'd , Their wasted leggs with massie irons gall'd , That coursest bran for meate , & puddle drinke , And yet therof are scanted , while they sinke Vnder their weightie burthens , taskes impos'd By Pagans crueltie , strictly enclos'd And pent in grisly Cells of bondage , slaues , Whilest nought they hope for , but their quiet graues ? How many in a moment are bereau'd Of all they had , by sodanie fire conceiu'd Through lightning , or neglect , or tyrannie Of rogues , bad neighbours , common enemie ? The same which we enjoying least regard We more affect depriued of : 't is hard Iustly to valew our felicitie , But when 't is clouded with some miserie . No man can haue his will in all , but may Restraine his wishes from a fruitles stray . If all should sleepe together , tell mee then What difference 'twixt Kings , Lords & common men ? The day of dissolution is at hand , That general day , when Gods wheate shall be fand , And brought into his garner ; or to thee Thy day of death approacheth speedily . Then shall the teares be wiped from thine eyes . Then shalt thou cleane forget thy bitter cries , Then art thou free'd from all disasters , paines , Then hast thou perfect cure for all thy maines . Thou shalt no more be servile , but in love Be made Co-heire with Christ of heaven above . Cast from thee then , thou Punie , those vaine feares Which shakes thy sounder faith , ignobly beares Thy thoughts much lower than the sordide ground , And then againe does catch them at rebound . If constant be thy troubles , without doubt Less violent , and time will weare them out : And as for those that are more violent They be but flashes , seldome permanent . Thou art not weake in bodie ; say thou be , Thou art in Spirit as strong as strongest he . Thou art not poore ; but yet suppose it so , In gods loue richer much than many moe . Come , art thou crooked or deform'd ? what then ? Thou maist be right in heart towards God & men . Thou bear'st no rule , enjoy'st no souveraigntie , Thou rul'st thy lusts , that 's cheife regalitie . Say thou wert maim'd , decrepite , vlcerous , blind , Thy soul is sound , sees more than most we find . Hast thou no freinds ? alas , he that can raise Of stones posteritie to Abram , saies That he will be a father to thee , freind , And never will forsake thee to thy . END .