PHILO to PHILEMON.
Non Vltra.
EAch day and houre (my friend) that shines on thee
Esteeme it as thy Liues Epitome;
Nor need I by a
Precept further show it,
Since 'tis so well aduis'd vs by the Poet:
"'Mongst hopes, cares, feares, and all the griefes thou hast,
"Imagine euery day to bee thy last:
So shall the sight of each approaching Day
Summon thee hence that thou may hast away:
Meane while contend in vertue and in grace,
Hastning to th' end of this thy
Pilgrims race,
This
Weauers Shuttle, Grasse, Post, Shadow, Span,
So short's the course, so small's the time of
Man.
Mans securitie, the Diuells opportunitie.
MAn thinks the shade of Night can couer sin,
But Night and Day be all alike to
Him,
Whose eyes as they are piercing, so they be
Pure, and doe loath the least impiety.
MORALL.
HOw oft haue I (O Lord) erred in this,
Thinking thee blinde when Night approched is;
Where if I rightly did distinguish light,
I'de thinke Mans Day farre darker then thy Night:
For there's no Night with
Thee; but such a Day,
As needs no Sun to chase the Night away.
Annotation vpon the precedent MORALL.
IT is obserued by the Learned, that
Adam after his fall or defection from God, seeing his owne nakednesse which hee procured to himselfe by his owne disobedience, being borne in a Primitiue freedome of will, to haue fled for refuge, or couert rather, to a shadie
Groue in the
Garden, imagining to exempt himselfe from the punishment due to his Sin, by flying to the shade to couer his Sin; implying
[Page] (say they)
that Man
no sooner erreth, then hee seeketh some sconce, some defence for the sinne which he commiteth. But hee that rewardeth in publike, discusseth the secrets of our hearts in priuate: The
Night is to him as the
Day, for hee seeth not as Man seeth; hee that securely pretendeth darkenesse for a couert to his sin, and in the presumption of his owne security expostulates with his Creator, saying,
Who seeth me? shall receiue his reward in the Land of
Darknesse; for the secrecie of his sinne cannot auoid the piercing and searching eye of the Lord. Let him therefore stand in feare of Gods Iudgement both in the
Morning and
Euening, that he may shun
the Arrow that flyeth at the noone-day, and the Pestilence that killeth in the Euening.
A Diuine EMBLEME.
Nosce et tace.
Tu te time si viues tute.
THou
Better part of Man: the inward
Eye,
Extended farre boue sense;
how should the path
(Erring and straying from Humanity)
Haue guidance but by
thee?
where each Man hath
A natiue pronenesse to Obliquity,
Subiecting Reason to
vnbounded wrath,
Reaching as high by's
Eye, as by his
Faith.
Where
Truth lyes hid, curb'd by iniurious time,
As in a Caue obscur'd:
til th' glorious Sun
Disperse this mist of
Error by his shine,
Discouering that which was
in darknesse done:
Still cheerefull be that faire
Aspect of thine
By whose refulgent beames
such acts be showne
As but for thee
(Deere Light) had nere bin knowne.
Age, which in some is as a
Tale that's told,
Wherein we rather
be
then seeme to
liue,
Tells me that it's not
many yeeres make old;
But
houres how well dispos'd,
since we must giue
Accompt for euery Talent which we hold;
And though the Lord seeme this
accompt to driue:
Time will approach when there is no repriue.
Then may my number be in
houres, not
yeares,
How good, and not how many,
liu'd,
not spent;
VVhere may my
Sinnes force sighs, my
Errors teares,
Liuing on Earth, yet leauing
Earths content
To Earthly-minded Moles, who sum their feares
By losse of
goods, and giue
no free assent
To ought, saue what is to their profit ment.
My Eyes not fixt but mouing in their Spheare,
Transcend fraile Objects,
nor can they behold
Ought worthy louing or affecting heere,
Where best of Natures treasures
is but mold;
Which in the Worlds eye how faire so ere,
They shew their gawdie lustre
is but gold,
Which when the Mizer has is onely told.
Let me haue
Riches inward; for the rinde
Of Earths exterior Beauty,
my desire
Rests well contented, howsoere I finde:
And further should our soule-rapt
thoughts aspire
Then to content the Body; for the
Minde,
As in her ranke of honour
she is higher,
Shee scornes (pure Mirror) to be soild with mire.
How hard is't to be good, and not decline
From that small
share of goodnes,
where the Age
In which we liue, bids vs to suite the time
And make no mention of
a Pilgrimage?
It's true indeed, we seldome see the prime,
Of Vertue made continuate;
for the Page
Which
lackies Patience oft ends with rage.
Hee liues the best who hath the least account,
Accounting euery day
to be his last:
That when he comes vnto his finall poynt,
To make recourse vnto
the yeares be past,
And sees to what the
Totall summe doth mount:
He may reioyce, t'haue made
so little wast
Of
precious Time, while he on Earth was plast.
How est offend we? and as rockt asleepe
Secure of Iudgement, in
the bed of Sin
Lie we as men exempt from vengeance;
Sheepe
Straid from their
Shepheard, which
hath euer bin
So kinde t'his
Flocke, as he hath sought to keepe
Them safe by his owne harme;
yet leaue we him,
Pursuing th' path of error we are in.
If there be
Hell, why doe we liue on earth
As if there were none? yea,
if common sense
Tells vs a Pilgrimage hath no true mirth;
Where this
day we are he ere,
next calls vs hence:
Why liue we heere as if we nere should forth
From this
vast Grate of griefe?
our residence
Is short on Earth; then let vs hasten hence.
Th'vnseemliest
Obiect Mans eye can behold
Is
Age attended on
by nought but yeares;
Where his
gray-hayres may tell vs he is old,
But there's no other signe
of
Age appeares:
Wherefore his
Age seemes as a
Tale that's told,
His life a
Medley of
desires and feares,
Desire of life to welcome Death with teares.
What is this curious modell
Man? whose shape
Diuinely featured
includes all faire
In
Him as in her
Abstract, but an
Ape,
That imitates all formes,
in habite, haire,
Carriage of Body, and whats'ere may make
His vanity admir'd,
now heere now there.
Distasting most the tast of's Country ayre.
If
Man consist of Body and of Soule,
And that the being of
the
first relies
Vpon the
latter; why should it controule
The first by which it liues?
or why despise,
Or striue to make her: chiefest Beauty foule
With her seducing
trifling vanities,
Which presse the
Soule so low it cannot rise▪
That
Know thy selfe, deriued her first birth
And Pettigree from Heauen,
and did appeare
On Earth to make it seeme an heauenly Earth;
But see what chanc'd:
Men so
besotted were,
Of their defectiue Knowledge, as a dearth
Fell amongst humble men,
learning to erre
And fall by Pride, as did that
a
Lucifer.
Quare ista omnia, nisi quia in mō tem illum ascenderūt, in quem primus ascendit Angelus, & descendit Diabolus.
August. in Soliloq. Cap. 29.
O let vs then confesse, (as well wee may)
Our Knowledge it is nothing;
and the
good
That's in vs is not
ours; nor can we say
Ought proper
ours saue
Sin,
so rank's the blood
Of our corrupted Nature: where each day
Paints out our frailety,
which if vnderstood,
Man has no cause at all for to be proud.
If euery
Euen were as it ought to be,
It should keepe count of all
the
day that's past;
Asking our sin-surcharged soule, what she
Hath done? which reckning should
be neuer rac't
Out of the Table of our Memory:
But haue it so, o're all
our actions plac't,
That th'
forme we haue may neuer be defac'd.
If every
houre we spend must beare record
When we shall summon'd be;
how carefull should
Man be of euery worke, and euery word,
Done, to be done, or spoke?
for how shall mould,
Clay, and corruption stand against the Lord?
On whom wee all are truely
said to hold:
Seeing the crimes we act so manifold.
Where each Mans
Conscience shall his
Tophet be,
His
Sinnes his
Testates, and
his last farewell
To Earth, his entrance into misery:
Where his owne
Soule appeares
his onely
Hell,
Th' Companions that attends him, doubts and feares,
Mouing Despaire to sound
her larum Bell,
To warne him to the place where he must dwell.
Mansion of horror, where the quenchles
fire
Burns without
ceasing, where
the gnawing
worme
Eates without
resting, and that wofull hire
Death neuer
dead, though
dying;
where the forme
Of all confusion formeth her retire;
Thrice happy
he if he
had neere beene borne
That's markt to come to such a place forlorne.
No Life but shade of Life; for what is Life,
But a continuall Death,
wherein we die
Each day a little? where dissention, strife,
Restlesse Ambition,
Treason, Periury,
Oppression, violence bee onely rife:
Where outward obiects daze
the inward eye,
And ill's made good by sinnes impunity.
Liue may I neither to my selfe nor
Time,
Since
Time-obseruers now
proue Parasites;
But to make streight that great accompt of mine,
After so many dayes,
so many nights,
Past in neglect: so may my Soule in fine
Possesse (then happy she)
those pure delights
Which doe include of comforts infinites.
Muse doe I much when I doe heare men call
(Whether Experience tell
them, or their Art)
Some yeares more safe, some
Climactericall;
Where if we looke into
our humane part:
In houres, dayes, yeeres, we shall perceiue how
all
Summon alike Deaths
parley to our heart;
From whom to get we striue, but cannot start
I haue long sought that
Essence of my being,
A faithfull friend; and I,
haue found in
Some,
A veine of protestation well agreeing
With
Friend, if
Christian, but
when I should come
To take a surer triall, he was fleeing,
Prouing a
Summer Swallow;
this's my doome
My friend's in Heauen, on Earth he has no roome.
When I obserue
Earth's as a
Ball in th' ayre,
I askt my selfe what may
I seeme to be,
That liues as if I had my Mansion there,
Planting my hopes on
mutability?
And I doe finde who otherwise liues heere
Then as a
forraigne Trauellor
though hee
Seeme wise to some, hee seemes a foole to me.
This House I liue in, like a shaking frame
Threatens each day a fall;
yet I secure
Where I must goe to, or from whence I came
Liue so, as if this Building
would endure,
And to eternity extend her name:
But 'lasse how weake am I,
seeming most sure,
While sin wounds deepe and doth despaire of cure.
Some, farre lesse
wise then
curious, doe delight
To glaze their windowes with
Perspectiue glasse,
Presenting sundry obiects to the sight,
As
Hils, Dales, Seas, and
whatsoere shall passe
Within an equall distance: but the light
Which the
Bay-windore of
my Mansion has,
Hath no such various Prospect, though it might,
But opens wide that she may see what's right.
May
Goodnesse be the
Abstract of my
Fayre,
My best aduice,
Direction
of the word:
May
Worlds-care be still my least of care,
May my
Selfe-loue be now
to loue the
Lord:
May I obserue a time to spend, to spare,
Not taking thought to waste,
or how to hoard,
But in
expence to keepe me on euen board.
Rich had I rather then accounted be,
Sayes the
Worldling: But I am
not of his minde;
For my
Account is dearer vnto me
Then this same
Barke of man,
this outward rinde;
Yet
Rich are men of most account we see;
It's true indeed, wee by
experience finde,
Oft goes the
Cart before, the
Horse behinde.
Arise to iudgement, is a doome of feare
To
Flesh; for why shee could
contented be
To build her selfe a Tabernacle heere,
Liuing to bee her owne
posterity;
But th'Soule mounts vpward to an higher Sphere
Striuing to breake from her
captiuity.
Nor can shee ioy till shee's at liberty.
Her
Nunc dimittis, is her cheerefulst Song,
Her passage th'entrance to
a safe repose,
Her comfort
this, (though her restraint was long)
Griefes past be counterpoiz'd
with present ioyes.
Her hope that she shall make her party strong,
Being both rid of her
perfidious foes,
And sphered there where sacred comfort flowes▪
In our first Birth we
shrike, in death we
sigh,
Thus discontent is
Man,
in birth and death;
In
Birth we
shrike because affliction's nigh,
In
Death we
sigh, sigh, sith
wee cannot breath:
Thus both in
Death and
Birth there's misery;
And more in
Death then
Birth,
if so his wreath
Of glory be reduc'd to wrath beneath.
An Elegie which the Author entituleth Bound yet free; Speaking of the benefit of imprisonment.
THou, whom we call lifes death,
Captiuity,
Yet canst contemplate in the darkest Cell
Of things aboue the reach of Vanitie,
Dost in my iudgement
Liberty excell;
In that thou teachest man to mortifie
His indisposed passions; and canst well
Direct him how to mannage his estate,
Confin'd to th'narrow prospect of thy
Grate.
Hee sees the passage of this Globe of earth,
And makes right vse of what his sight partakes:
Some he obserues expresse a kinde of mirth,
Of which he this due application makes;
If they did know the misery of Birth
With Deaths approach, they would not hazard stakes
Of Soules eternall glory, for a day
Of present ioy, which one houre takes away.
Others he heares bemoning of the losse
Of some deare friend; or't may be not so well,
Decrease of fortune, or some other crosse,
Which to forgoe they deeme a second hell,
[Page](So firmely fixed be their mindes on drosse)
As nought smels well but what of gaine doth smell.
These he condemnes, and proues it euery way,
The captiu'st wretch's in better state then they.
Others he notes obseruing of the time,
Meere Fashion-mongers, shadowes of the great;
And these attendance giue where th'Sunne doth shine,
And like to
Isis Asse admire the
Seat,
More then the
Person, cause the robes be fine
That hang about it: and
hee doth intreat
Their absence; for,
These cannot well (saith hee)
By liuing, leaue name to posteritie.
Others as base and farre more dangerous,
Notes he, as Politician
Machauels,
Who count that gaine which is commodious
Adhering to themselues, and to none els:
For
these make ancient houses ruinous,
And Charitie from out the Realme expels,
Reducing th'Orphans teare and Widdowes curse
To th'damn'd
Elixie of their well-cramm'd purse.
Others he notes, and they would noted be;
For painting, purfling, smoothing, cerusing,
Shew they would be obseru'd for vanitie,
Staruing their Soules by bodies cherishing.
And these
hee laughes at for their foolery;
For while they put the
Case to garnishing,
That Shell of frailty, they're indifferent
What shall become of th'Soule the
Instrument.
Others there be which seeme least what they are,
Pretending truth in falshood, and doe gull
The World with shadow, yet doth he compare
the passage of euents, and finds at full
Their end's attended with an endlesse care,
And th'pregnant wit which seemes so smooth proues dull,
When thousand Testates shall produced be,
For to disclose their close hypocrisie.
Others hee sees and taxeth, for they hold
proportion with the World, being made
After a better Image, yet they'r sold
to all collusion, making in their trade
This vilde Position:
Who'll be rich when old
must cheat being young: but see how they'r displaid,
So oft haue they deceiu'd as now they must,
Persorce deceiue themselues by mens distrust.
Others as Prollers of the time he sees,
but scornes to take acquaintance; for their fate
Presageth worst of ills, whose best increase
proceeds from good mens falls: yet mark their state
As indirectly got, so little peace
accrewes in state to any, for the hate
Of God and man attends them; and how then
Should there be peace wher's war with God & Men?
More hee beholds, and hee obserues them too,
and numbers their dimensions as they passe
The compasse of his
Prospect too and fro,
for this same
Grate he makes his Looking-glasse,
[Page]In which he sees more then the world can show,
conferring what is present with what was;
Extracting this from times experienc't Schoole,
The Captiue's freer then the Worlds foole.
For by the
first we shew but what we are,
and Moralize our selues in being pent
Close from the Worlds eye, which we compare
Vnto a
Prison, since th'enfranchisement
We haue's in Heauen: then howsoere we fare,
though
bound, if free in minde, th'imprisonment
We suffer, cannot so our spirits depresse,
That th'
freedome of our minds should seeme ought lesse:
Ought lesse; nay more! for we approue as true
What th'deuine Morall taught:
That one may haue
A fuiler and more perfect enteruiew
of the Starres beauty in a hollow Caue,
Then on the Superficies; for the shew
of pompe distracts our passions, and doth slaue
Our
reason to our
sense; whence we may know,
The dangers of high states are seene below.
Below; and what more low then to be shut
from open ayre, strang'd from the sight of Men,
Clos'd in obliuion, linked hand and foot
least their escape gaine liberty? what then
Shall this enthrall my soule? it cannot doo't,
it does aspire aboue the thoughts of
them
Who shed their Childish teares when they are sent
By higher powers to take them to restraint.
The truth of things, (saith sage
Democritus)
lies hid in certaine Caues, that is, the Cell
Of Thraldome which restraines and limits vs,
which makes vs happy if we vse it well;
For we're sequestred from th'pernicious
obiects of earth, and may in priuate tell,
What we in publike were, where we doe finde,
The freest man may haue the slauish'st minde.
For my experience tells me th'
Act of Sin,
proceeds from sinnes
occasion, which restrain'd,
To meditate soules freedome we begin,
and flie from earth when th'Body is enchain'd,
Making our thoughts contemplators of
Him,
whom if we get we haue sufficient gain'd:
So as the
Grate of our Captiuity,
Is th'
Gate that opens to soules liberty.
Whence 'tis wee see so many tast the ayre
of freedome, with neglect of what they are;
Making their will their Law; but when they share
their portion in affliction, then their care
Is in the honour of that inward
faire,
and they lament the state wherein they were:
For Man in state forgets himselfe and his,
Till his Affliction tells him what he is.
If life indeed were such a
Iubile,
that euery houre, day, yeare, did promise vs
Continuate health, and wealth, and liberty,
then had we better reason to excuse
[Page]The loue we haue to our mortality:
but since wee see we cannot will nor choose,
But must be rest of these, why should we grieue,
To leaue as men what men are forc'd to leaue?
Nor skills it much
where we be reft of these,
whether in
Thrall or
Freedome, but of th'two
I'de rather lose my fortune where I cease,
to make resort to any, and must know
No more of th'World or the Worlds prease;
but am retired from the publike show
Of this fraile
Theatre; and am confin'd
In
Flesh to tast true liberty of
Minde.
A
Minde as free as is the
Body thrall,
transcendent in her being, taking th'
Wings
Of th'
Morning to ascend, and make that
all
of hers immortall, sphearing it with Kings;
Whose glory is so firme it cannot fall:
where euery Saint in their reposure sings
Th'triumphant
Paean of eternity,
To
Him whose sight giues perfect
Liberty.
Then whether my
restraint enforce or no,
Ile be my selfe, but more in my
restraint;
Because through it I see the end of woe,
tasting in griefe the Essence of content:
That when from this same
double-ward I goe,
this same entangled
Prison; th' continent
Of heauenly
Freedome may receiue my
Soule,
Which
Flesh imprison might, but not controule.
Rest then (Retired Muse) and be thy owne,
though all thy owne forsake
thee, that when
Friends,
Fortune and
Freedome are but small or none,
thy hopes may ayme at more transcendent ends;
So by the
Body in strait
durance throwne
thy vnconfined
Soule may make amends,
For
that which
she had in her
Freedome lost,
In that most
blest wherein she seemd most
crost.
The Statue of AGATHOCLES.
The Argument.
AGATHOCLES, a Tyrant of Syracusa, caused his
Statue to be composed in this manner:
Caput de auro innuendo Regis dignitatem, Brachia de ebore intimando eius venustatem, caetera lincae menta de aere, denotando strenuitatem; pedes ver
[...] de terra indicando eius fragilitatens.
The Head of Gold, Armes of Iuorie, and other of the lineaments of purest Brasse; but the Feet of Earth: intimating of what weake and infirme subsistence this little-World
Man was builded. Whence wee may collect what diuine considerations the Pagans themselues obserued and vsually applyed to rectifie their morall life; where instructions of Nature directed them not onely in the course of humane society; but euen in Principles aboue the reach and pitch of Nature; as may appeare in many Philosophicall Axioms, and diuinely-inserted sentences in the Workes of
Plato, Plutarch, Socrates, and amongst the Latines, in the inimitable Labours of
Seneca, Boaethius, Tacitus and
Plinius secundus. Vpon the Morall of this
Statue of AGATHOCLES, insists the Author in this Poem, concluding with this vndoubted Position:
that as foundations on sand are by euery tempest shaken; so Man standing on feet of Earth, hath no firmer foundation then mutability to ground on.
The POEM.
AGathocles, me thinks, I might compare thee,
(So rare thou art) to some choyce Statuarie,
Who doth pourtray with Pencill he doth take,
Himselfe to th'Image which hee's wont to make.
How artfull
Thou, and gracefull to by birth,
A
King, yet showes that thou art made of
earth;
Not glorying in thy
greatnesse, but would seeme
Made of the
same mould other men haue beene:
A Head of Gold, as thou art chiefe of Men,
So chiefe of Mettalls make thy
Diadem;
Victorious Armes
of purest Iuorie,
Which intimates the persons purity;
The other
Lineaments compos'd of
Brasse,
Implies th'vndanted strength whereof thou was:
But
Feete of Earth, show th'grownd on which we stand,
That we're cast downe in turning of a hand.
Of which, that we may make the better vse,
Me thinks I could dilate the
Morall thus:
Man made of
Earth no surer footing can
Presume vpon then
Earth, from which he came,
Where firmenesse is infirmenesse, and the stay
On which hee builds his strongest hopes, is
Clay:
And yet how strangely confident he growes,
In Heauen-confronting boldnesse, and in showes
Bearing a Gyants Spirit, when in length,
Height, bredth, and pitch he is of Pigmies strength:
Yea, I haue knowne a very Dwarfe in sight,
Conceit himselfe a
Pyramis in height,
Ietting so stately, as it were in's power
[Page]To mount aloft vnto the ayery Tower.
But when
Man's proud, I should esteem't more meet,
Not to presume on's strength, but looke on's
feete,
Which Nature, we obserue, hath taught the
Swan,
And ought in reason to be done by
Man.
Weake are
foundations that are rear'd on sand,
And on as weake grounds may we seeme to stand;
Both subiect to be ruin'd, split, and raz't,
One Billow shakes the
first, one griefe the last.
Whence then or how subsists this
Earthly frame,
That merits in it selfe no better name
Then
Shell of base corruption? 'Tis not
Brasse,
Marble, or
Iuorie, which, when times passe,
And our expired Fates surcease to be,
Reserue in
them our liuing memorie;
No, no, this
Mettall is not of that proofe,
We liue as
Those vnder a shaking roofe;
Where euery moment makes apparant show
(For want of props) of finall ouerthrow.
Thus then me thinks
you may, (if so you please)
Apply this
Statue of Agathocles.
As he compos'd his royall
Head of
Gold,
The pur'st of Mettalls; you are thereby told
That th'
Head whence Reason and right Iudgement springs
Should not be pester'd with inferior things:
And as his actiue sinnewie
Armes are said
(To shew their
purenesse) to be
Iuored,
Like
Pelops milke-white shoulders; we are giuen
To vnderstand, our
Armes should be to Heauen
(As to their proper Orbe) enlarg'd, that we
Might there be made the Saints of purity:
[Page]By rest of th'
parts which were compos'd of
Brasse,
(Being of bigger bone then others was)
We may collect
Men made of
selfe same clay,
May in their strength doe more then others may.
Lastly, on
Earth as
Men subsistence haue,
Their
Earthly feet doe hasten to their
Graue.
Of SLEEPE.
SLeepe is the
Prison that restraines the
sense
From due performance of her offices,
Yet th'glorious
Soule is of that excellence
It mounts aloft, and scornes such
Bonds as these;
Shee acts when th'
outward senses are asleepe,
Building fantasticke Castles in the Ayre,
And diues sometimes into th'obscurest Deepe,
Conferring things that are with things that were;
She fills the labouring
Senses with extreames,
And dreames of Loue if that she bee in loue,
For what by day she thinkes by night she dreames;
Seeming all mouelesse when
shee's knowne to moue.
Oft
She betrayes the action of the day,
While th'labouring
Sense blabs on the dead of night,
And guilty of her selfe seemes to bewray
What we or did or thought, and though our sight
Is fixt on no one obiect; yet the
eye
Of
vnderstanding has her proper Sphere
Wherein
she moues and has her soueraignty,
And being once there, she is euer there.
[Page]Nor can
Man properly be said to rest,
When sweet-charmd
Morpheus shuts his leaden eyes:
Vnlesse it be by th'
outward sense exprest,
For th'
Soule nere rests, nere sleepes, nere vacant lies:
But as we see in Martiall pollicie
While
some doe sleepe
some still keepe
Centinall,
That they may notice giue if ought they see
Approching neere the breaches of the wall;
So this same watchfull spie is euer seene
Cautiue and circumspect least th'foe should win,
Her strait-beleaguer'd
fort and vanquisht cleane
The Bodies power by letting
Error in;
Yet see we oft the
temper of the
Soule
Follow the
Bodies various
temperature,
And as foule water comes from Springlins foule,
So if the
Body be disposed pure
Exempt from
Passions, she will euer keepe
A calme retension of her faculties:
For guilty minds are troubled still with these.
And this we see in
Passions of the minde
Or her Affections rather, there is none
But is to some one
humour more enclin'd
Then to another; as the
Chollerick one,
Whose Passion spurnes at Reason, and delights
In nothing lesse then to bee patient:
And this
he showes in darkest silent nights,
When
Sleepe aduiseth him to be content.
Next is the sullen sallow
Melancholly,
Whose nature's
Saint or
Diuell, and it dreames
Either of Subjects pure or most vnholy,
For of all
Humours this is in extreames.
[Page]The
third a warry crude, raw
Phlegmaticke,
(A bed-rid Humour) yet in youngest bloods,
And he is spitting still and Rhewmaticke▪
Whose
Dreames are neither bad, nor greatly good.
The last and best, for it doth show affection
In
red and
white is
Sanguine, and is mixt
So equally of all, as this
Complexion
Is th' onely one where Beauties Starre is fixt;
And th'
Dreames her
senses whisper are so cleare
From any thought of
Passion, as her will
Is o're her Passions so to domineere,
That no delight may traine
her vnto ill;
All these doe dreame; but there's no perfect rest
To any these, saue to a guiltlesse brest.
Vpon the foure Constitutions,
AS
cold and
drye attend on
Age,
so
hot and
moist on
Youth;
But
hot and
drye distempers show,
farre more then any doth:
The
last (not worst) might well be
first,
is
cold and
moist together,
Which giues digestion such free course,
as it exceeds the other:
All these appeare both heere and there,
but no distemper's worse
Our Gallants thinke, and so thinke I,
then
Drynesse of the Purse.
Of HOSPITALITY.
WHere art thou? no where? no, where's thy consort
Of old Black-iacks, Blew-coats? They'r flown to th' Court
Where they'r transformd. To what good
Dyonise?
To Pages like Pie-colourd Butterflies;
Alasse poore Country, thou hast nothing then
But vast penurious houses without Men;
A row of smoake-lesse Chimneyes which agrees,
With barme-lesse Hogsheds, empty Butteries,
VVorme-eaten Rafters, VVindores Spider-wouen,
VValls Snaile-belimed, a Loome-mudded Ouen
Estrang'd from Bake-meats, nasty Dayeries,
Halls hung with Caules and forlorne Nurseries.
And yet
Panurgus thou art more to blame
Then Court house-keepers, for thou thinks no shame
VVhen foot-bet Trauellers that's like to burst
VVith heat, come to thy house to quench their thirst,
To boult thy Buttry-dore and bid them goe
To th' Alehouse, where th' aue nothing to bestow:
VVherefore to saue their money, thou dost bring,
These wearied Trauellers to some wholsome Spring,
VVhere they may drink their fill; whenc't may appeare
Thou'lt rather wast thy water then thy Beere.
And thou
Cremutius that doest nere display
Thy Bounty but vpon thy Marriage day:
VVhere thou inuites thy
friends vnto thy store
Of Resty Bacon; for thou hast no more
Of
Cates, to make their welcomming exprest,
With one reserued Kilderkin of th' best;
Whose Key thou kept as I informed am,
[Page]Till thy
Feast-day, and then thou gaue't thy Man:
The wilie
Porrus, who had so much wit
As to appoint a time which might befit
His iolly Cumrades to drinke vp thy Beere
While thou and thy staru'd Guests conferring were:
But by what hap I know not,
he is found,
With his
Boon-socio's trauersing their round,
Which makes thee sweare, fearing thy Beere should lack,
To pull thy Blew-coate from poore
Porrus back,
But how did
Porrus mittigate thy rage?
Sir take your Coate, so you will pay my wage.
But this doth little moue thy worthlesse minde,
He weares thy
Coate, thou keepes his
wage behind.
And
Luscu, thou that neuer made expence,
In vaine disbursements aboue eighteene pence
In all thy time; me thinks I see in thee
The Misers Mirror or Anatomie
Rightly depictur'd, who hath wealth at will,
Yet (like th'
Hydropticke Man) is thirsty still:
Seest thou not
Luscus how thou starues thy selfe,
To Cram thy Coffers and encrease thy Pelfe?
And yet how fond art
thou, all thou dost saue,
Will in the end afford thee but a
Graue,
A
Shroud, thus ends thy care, thus ends thy store:
This Beggers haue and Princes get no more.
And yet, vnhappy thou, drains golden streames,
T'inhance thine owne by indirectest meanes.
Making this
Axiom with thy
humour fit,
Thou cares not how thou get, so thou may get:
But if
thou knewst what wiser men doe know,
Thou wouldst not get before thou question how.
The SHRIFT.
A Time there was, and diuers there be yet,
VVhose riper yeares can well remember it:
VVhen folke were
shriuen for th' sinnes they did commit
And had their
Absolution as was fit:
Mongst which, as one crime doth another get,
VVhere hope of
Pardon doth authorize it,
For
Vertues Turtle-like doe single sit,
But th'troope of
Vices still in squadrons meete;
A
Boone-Companion to his liquor giuen,
Came thither with his Neighbours to be
shriuen.
Steuen (quoth Frier) for's Christen name was
Steuen,
VVhat sinnes hast done to grieue the Lord of Heauen?
Speake freely man, and it is ten to seauen,
But by due
Pennance I will make all euen:
Confession is the way, when
Man is driuen
Into
Despaire, that guides him vnto Heauen.
I haue beene drunke last day and this day to,
And may be next day too for ought I know:
Tell me then (holy Frier) directly how
Or in what sort I may my
Pennance doe?
Drunke (quoth the
Frier) now by the faith I owe
I know not what it meanes, nor as I trow
Vnder Confession had I't ere till now,
Yet come next day thou's heare what thou shalt doe.
Meane while the
Frier would not neglect his time,
To know the secret of this drunken crime,
Therefore betime, ere foure a clock did chime,
This profane practice grew to be diuine:
[Page]For
Vpsefreese he drunke from foure to nine,
So as each Sense was steeped well in Wine,
Yet still he kept his
rouse, till he in fine,
Grew extreame sicke with hugging
Bacchus Shrine:
Vpward and downeward it did worke so sore,
As if his vitall spirits could worke no more,
Or that he were ariuing on the Shore
Where
Mortalls must ariue: but rid of store,
That did oppresse his stomach ore and ore,
At last he got a nap vpon the floore,
Which hauing tempered his Braines, he swore
To trye conclusions with the
Pot no more.
Stephen kept his steauen, and to the time
he gaue,
Came to demand what
Pennance he should haue?
What Pennance (quoth the Frier?) I'le tell thee knaue,
I thinke it fit this
Pennance to receiue:
"Goe and be drunke againe; for if it haue
"Th'effect with
thee it had with
mee, Ide craue
"No sharper
Pennance to the sinfullst slaue,
"For soone it would possesse me of my graue.
"Thus in this Sea of Sodome where each shelfe
"Menaceth ruine to the forlorne Elfe,
"The Drunkard is a Pennance to himselfe.
Quidam erat.
A Preaching Frier there was, who thus began,
The Scripture saith,
There was a certaine Man:
Acertaine Man: but I doe read no where
Of any
certaine Woman mention'd there;
A
certaine Man, a Phraze in Scripture common,
But no place shewes there was a
certaine Woman▪
And fit it is that wee should ground our Faith
On nothing more then what the Scripture saith.
The Signe in CANCER. An Epigram.
A Crabbed
Shrew, through sicknes weakly brought,
Wisht by all meanes a
Doctor should be sought;
Who by his
Art that hee her griefe might know,
Felt both her pulse and cast her water too:
Which done, he to her husband turn'd againe,
And wishd him be content all was in vaine:
For when the signe's in
Cancer, she would dye;
To whom her Husband answerd merrily:
"If that (my learned
Doctor) had beene so
"She had beene dead beleeue it long agoe;
"For these ten yeares and odde she has beene mine,
"And I nere knew her yet out of
that Signe.
A PRIZE.
THree Darlings haue I, and I know not which
To make a
[...];
First is mee
[...]ly
rich,
Faire,
[...]se, but we
[...] be different,
And where that is there can be no content.
The
Next as louing as the Turtle is,
Whose Lip distills pure Nectar with her kisse,
But this's my feare, her Nature is so prone
To giue content, she cannot keepe to
One.
The
Third is
rich and
wise and well adorn'd
With inward graces, but she is deform'd,
So as for all that I doe treasure lacke,
I would not get it on a
Cammels backe.
VVhich should I haue of
these they all loue me,
One must I haue, I cannot haue all three?
HIMENS Eglogue betweene Admetus and Menalchas.
MENALCHAS.
WHat makes
Admetus sad? What ere it be
Some cause there is that thus hath alter'd thee.
Is it the losse of Substance, or of Friends,
Or thy content in discontentment ends?
Is it some seruple in thy Conscience,
Which vnresolu'd doth leaue thee in suspence?
Is it that thou thy long wisht loue should leese?
ADMET.
[Page]
No, no
Menalchas it is none of these.
MENAL.
Thou art not sicke?
ADMET.
Nor sicke, nor greatly well.
MENAL.
VVhere lies thy griefe?
ADMET.
My Countenance can tell.
MENAL.
Smooth is thy brow, thy countenance fresh enough.
ADMET.
But Cares haue made my wreakfull minde as rough.
MENAL.
Of Cares
Admetus.
ADMET.
Yes, I haue my share.
MENAL.
Yet hope of cure.
ADMET.
No hope of cure to care.
MENAL.
Nay then I see 'tis loue that
thee doth wring;
ADMET.
Thou errst
Menalchas, there is no such thing.
MENAL.
If neither losse of
friends nor losse of
wealth,
VVant to enioy thy
Loue, nor want of
health,
If neither discontent, nor griefe, doe show
Care in thy face, nor sorrow in thy brow,
If thou be
free as we all know
thee free,
Engag'd to none, what is it greeueth thee?
ADMET.
VVouldst know
Menalchas?
MENAL.
Yes.
ADMET.
Ile tell thee than;
The Case is alterd:
I'me a Married-Man.
THANKFVLNES.
THe early
Larke, from Earth to Heauen doth raise
Her well-tun'd Note to chaunt her
Makers praise,
Why should not
Men (indew'd with Reason) show
Themselues more
thankfull, sith more thanks they owe?
FINIS.