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^
1
THE WORKS
OF
THOMAS MIDDLETON.
VOL. V.
CONTAINING
NO {h]S!p} UKE a WOMAN'S.
THE INNER-TEMPLE MASQUE.
THE WORLD TOST AT TENNIS.
PART OF THE ENTERTAINMENT TO KINO JAMES.
THE TRIUMPHS OF TRUTH.
CIVITATIS AMOR.
THE TRIUMPHS OF LOVE AND ANTIQUITY
THE SUN IN ARIES.
THE TRIUMPHS OF INTEGRITY.
THE TRIUMPHS OF HEALTH AND PROSPERITY.
THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON PARAPHRASED.
MICRO^YNICON.
ON THE DEATH OF BURBAGE.
TO WEBSTER, ON THE DUCHESS OF MALFl.
THE BLACK BOOK.
FATHER HUBBURD*S TALEa
APPENDIX. THE TRIUMPHS OF HONOUR AND INDUSTRY
INDEX TO THE NOTES.
THE WORKS
OF
THOMAS MIDDLETON,
WITH
SOME ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR,
AND
NOTES,
BY
THE REVEREND ALEXANDER DYCE.
IN FIVE VOLUMES.
VOL. V.
LONDON:
EDWARD LUMLEY, CHANCERY LANE.
1840.
^1
1
?8580'
NO {^pLpj LIKE A WOMAN'S.
VOL. V.
B
*■» "^
A Womofu. A Comedy, By Tho, Middleton, Gent, London:
Printed for Humphrey Moteley, at the Princess Arms in St. Pauls
Churchyard, 1657. 8vo. — is generally found appended to the
Two New Playes, &c. of the same date : see vol. iii. p. 553,
and vol. iv. p. 513.
Among Shirley's Poems ( Works, vol. vi. p. 4^2) is A PrO'
logue to a play there [at Dublin], aUled, No Wit to A Woman*s
^-rnost probably to the present play.
PROLOGUE.
How is't possible to sufRce
So many ears, so many eyes 1
Some in wit, some in shows
Take deliglit, and some in clothes ;
Some fo( mirth they chiefly come.
Some for passion/ — for both some;
Some for lascivious meetings, that's their ni
Some to (letraet, and ignorance their ivarrai
How is't possible to please
Opinion toss'd in such wild seas ?
Yet I doubt not, if attention
Seize you above, and apprehension
You below, to take things quickly,
We shall both make you sad and tickle ye.
] The rhyme requiring tli?
DRAMATIS I'ERSON.£.
StU OtITEa TWILIOIIT, a ktlighf.
PuiLir TwiLioHT. tiiiten.
S«aDiIELEi,/rtr«d(s Philip TiHighl. nd in liin t
SOCET, am M gtmttntatt.
LnT-ViEK, a dteafiJ gtnlUma*.
SltiCti.nBi LiVRitoii
WuTHtawMK,
ir 7bi%M; lirt r«di^l /w ingkitt to Snnul.
' ' ^mtttt, tmt rtallf Gract daaghln
NO (help) ^'^^ ^ AVOMAN'S.
ACT I. SCENE I.
Before Sib Oliver Twilight's houie.*
Enter Philip Twilioht and Savourwit.
Phil. I'm at my wit's ends, Savourwit.
Sav, And 1
Am even following after you as fast
As I can, sir.
Phil. My wife will be forc'd from me,
My pleasure!
Sav. Talk n
Be any liope i'
! middle, when we're
n the beginning? my \\
o gravell'd since I first set out upon't.
. Nor does my stop stick only in this wheel,
Though't be a main vexation; but I'm grated
In a dear, absolute friend, young n
Sav. Ay, there's another rub ti
Phil. Who supposes
Thai I make love to his affected n
When 'tis my father works against the peace
irSandfield —
ha^i I hav
ctr Twitight'i Aduic] There U nothing ii
in determiaiof; where ii lakes place.
Diirked it right]; ; but ihe locatiun nan )
e whole, to be ihat which is leaal objec
' hit offttUd tniitrtit] i. e. the n
II wham he aSccti,
KO WIT, KO nSLP
Of both our ipirita, and wooes unknown lo in«:
He ttrikei out «parks of undeserved anger
Twixt old «tcel friendship and new tiony hate j
A% much forgetful of the merry houri
The cireujti of our youth have*" spcnl and worn,
A( if they had not been, or we not born.
Sav. See where he come*.'
Enter Sandfisld.
Sawd. Unmerciful in torment 1
Will ihia diaeaie never for>ake mine eye T
PuiL. It muRt be kill'd firat, if ii grow to painfi
Work it out atrongly at one time, that ih' anguiil
May never more come near thy precious sight.
Ifmy eternal sleep will give thee rest,
Clo«e up mine eyes with opening of my breast.
Saxu. 1 feci thy wrongs at midnight, and t
weight
Of thy close treacheries : thou hast a friendship
A* dangerous &i a Rtrumpcl's, that will kiss
Men into poverty, distress, and ruin ;
ADd to make clear the face of thy foul deeds,
Tbon work'sl by seconds. ^Drawing hit n
Pait. Then may the sharp point of an ini
Itorrof
Strike me to earth, and tare thy weapon guiltit
Sav». Not in thy father !
Phil. How much u truth abua'd
' Wbea 'lia kept atlent t O defend me, friendshi]
* itm}^Mt4.-huk.••
' ' - • - • -im] I paM(Si s eflpy of this plaj, ■
used bj die pronptet lowmrd* Ihc (i
r, •cveral puuf^s lK>ng alund, sad r
'is Sfwcimcn of the fonni:"
mtUieMlf md tatps al a
I
2
Sav. True,' your anger's in an error all cU
But that a lover's weapon ne'er'' hears re:
'Tis out fitill, like a madman's ; hear but me, sir ;
'Tis my young master's injury, not youra.
That you quarrel with him for ; and lliis shews
As if you'd challenge a lame man the field,
And cut ofTs head, because lie has lost his legs
His grief makes him dead ftesli, as it appear'd
By offering up his breast to you ; for, believe it, »
Had he not greater crosses of his own,
Your hilts could not cross him
Sand. How !
Sav. Not your hilta, sir.
Come, 1 must have you friends; o pox of weaponi
There's a whore gapes for't ; put it up i' the set
Sasd. [^sheathing his wcorrf] Thou'rl a mad slavi
Sav. Come, give me both your hands,
You're in a quagmire both ; should I release yt
Your wits would both come home in a stinking
Your father's old nose would smell you out pre-
sently.
Phil. Tell him the secret, which no mortal knoi
But thou and I ; and then he will confess
How mi^ch he wrong'd the patience of his friend.
" "' " s the marigold opens at the spiel
doui
Of a hot,
'Tis not unkno'
My mistress, his gooi
About the age of six, crossing
friendship 'twixt you both.
to your ear, some ten years sini
iih a daughter
Guernsey,
' Trw] Qy. "TuiU"t
Waa taken by the Dunkirlu,' sold boili, ■nd lepa-
As the lail news brings liot, — the firit and last
So much discover "d ; for in nine years' space
No certain tidings of their life or death,
Or what place held 'em, earth, the sen, or heaven,
Came to the old man's eari, the knight my master.
Till about five months since a letter csrae.
Sent from the mother, which related all
Their taking, selling, separation.
And never meeting: and withal requir'd
Sin hundred crowns for ransom ; which my old
master
No sooner heard the floimd, but told the sum,
Gave him' the gold, and sent us both aboard :
We landing by the way — having a care
To lighten us of otir carriage, because gold
Is such a heavy metal — eas'd our pockets
In wenches' aprons : womeo were made to bear.
But for us gentlemen 'tis most unkindly. ■
Sand. Well, sir?
PtiiL. A pure rogue still !
Sav. Amongst the rest, sir,
'Twas my young master's chance there to doai fine!
Upon a sweet young gentlewoman, but one
That would not sell her honour for the Indies,
Till a priest struck the bargain, and then half
A crown despatch 'd it ; ■
To be brief, wedded her and bedded her.
Brought her home hither to his father's house.
And, with a fair tale of mine own bringing up
She passes for his sister that was sold.
• llu Dankirlti^ Set aou. Vol. iU. p. 132.
' Ail-] i. e. PhUip.
■ tmkiaJlgi i. c. uaoMaral (noi sccoidiog to kind — :
^
Sakd, Let me not lose myseirin wonderiii<|nt tliee!
But how niatle you your bcotc even for the niollier ?
Sav, Pish, easily ; we told him liow her fortunes
Mock'd us as they mock'd her ; when we were o'
the sea
She nas o' tlie
land ; and,
BS report wa
given.
When we wer
landed, sh
gone to
heaven.
So he believt^a
r bred,
The daughier
ransom'd, a
d th
niolhe
dead.
Sand. Let r
ne admire thee, a
nd withal confess
My injuries to
friendship
Phil, They
re all pardo
nd:
These are ihe
arms I bore
agai
nst my friend.
Sav. But whafs all this
toll
e prese
t? tbisd
Leaves you i' the bog still.
Phil. On, good Savourwit.
Sav. For yet our policy has cross'd ourselves;
For the old knave, my master, little thinking her
Wife to his son, but his own daughter still,
Seeks out a match for her
Phil. Here I feel the surgeon
At second dressing.
Sav. And has entertain'd.
Even for pure need, for fear the glass should crack
That is already broken but well solder'd,
A mere sot for her suitor, a rank fox.
One Weatherw'ise, that wooes by the almanac.
Observes the full and change, an arrant moon-calf;
And yet, because the fool demands no portion
But the bare dower*" of her amock, the old fellow,
Worn lo ihe bone with a dry, covetous' itch,
To save his purse, and yet bestow his child,
IS
so WIT, KO HELP
^
ConitniB ro wute [her on] lumps oralmsnac-ituflT
Knetl wiihMay-buiier.' Now, ss I have thought on't,
rU spoil him in the baking.
Sakd. Pritliee, as how, sirrah ?
Sav. I'll ^ive him >uch a crnck in oneo' rhe lidct.
He ihRll qnite run out of my mnsicr'a favour.
PitiL. 1 should but too rnuch love ihee for that.
Sav. Thug, then.
To help you both at once, and so good night to you ;
After my wit has ihipp'd away the fool,
A* he shall part, I'll buzz into the car
Of my old master, that you, sir, master Sandfield,
Dearly affect bis daughter, and will take her
With little or no portion ; well Blood out in't;
Meibinks I see him caper at that news,
And in the full cry. O 1 This hrouubt about
And wittily dissembled on both parts —
You to afli-ei hi) love, he to love yours —
I'll so bepiiile the father at the marriage.
That each shall have his own ; and both bein^
welcom'd
And cbamber'd in one house,-
To have bis children's children got successively
On his forefathers' feather-beds, — in the daytirnes,
To please the old man's eyesight, you may dally.
And set a kiss on the wrong lip — no sin in't.
Brothers and aiaters do't, cousins do more ;
But, pray, take heed you be not kin to them ;
So in the night-lime nothing can deceive you,
Let each know his own work ; and there I leave yo'
' May-lnillir] " It during the moiitih of May before } I
■alt your butter you lauc > lumpf (hneof, and put it if
veuttl, and » kI it into Ihe Sun the tpace of Cial moi
you thall linde it cicerding loUFrtigne and mrJicinabl
wounda. atraintt, achea, and luch likr gricvanCH." G. Mat
ham'i Efifliih HoHirvife, p. 199. ed. 1(i3T.
LIKE A WOUAH S.
13
e applaud thee !
Phu. Blest be all thy ends
That mak'st arm'd enemies embracing friends !
About it speedily. [Exit mth Sahdfield.
Sav. I need no pricking ;
I'm of that mettle, so well pac'd and free,
There's no good ridera that use spur to me.
Enter Grace.
O, are you come !
Grace. Are any comforts coming?
Sav. I never qo without 'em.
BpoTicat joys that utterance cannot
Grace. The
perfect.
" , Hark,
Grace. Yes, long before I left 't
And all intend to bring the widow homeward.
Sav. Depart then, mistress, to avoid suspect;
Our good shall arrive time enough at your heart.
(Exit Grj
Poor fools, that
e take
How soon they'll hold op their laps to receive com-
fort!
The music that 1 struck made her soul dance —
Peace —
Enter Lady Goi.denfleece with Sia Gilbert Lamb-
stone, Pepperton, aurf Overdone ; after them.
Sir Oliver Twilioht and Sunset, with Grace
Here comes the lady widow, the late wife
To the deceas'd sir Avarice Goldenfleece,
Second to none for usury and extortion.
As too well it appears on a poor gentleman.
One master Low-water, from whose estate
14 KO WIT, 510 BKLP
Ht pull'd thai fleece that makes hii widow weight. I
Thoie are her suiton now, air Gilbert Lambaton^
Manter PtpiKTton, [and] master Overdone. [y4$u'
L. Gold. Nay, good sir Oliver Twilight, nuul
We'll (rouble you no farther.
[ No trouble, aweet mndain.
Sun,
S[R G. Lamb. We'll lee the wid.
shall be our charge that.
L. Gold. It shall be ao indeed.
Thanka, good air Oliver ; and to you both
I am indebted for those courtesica
Thai will ask inc a long time to requite.
SirO.Twi. Ah, 'tis but your pleasant condition' *
to give it out so, madam.
L. Gold. Mistress Grace and mistress Jane, t j
wish you both
A fair contented fortune in your cboico,
And that you happen right.
. ' } riianks to you, good madam ;
Grace. There's more in that word right than
you imagine. [Aiidt.
L. Gold. I now reptmt, girls, a rash oath I look.
When you were both infants, to conceal a secret.
GitACE. What does't concern, good madam t
I. Gold. No, no j
Since you are both so well, 'tis well enough ;
It must not be reveal'd ; 'ris now no more
Than like mistaking of one hand for t'other:
- A happy time to you both I
W^^'}'''^*' '•'"' ^ y°"* madam!
^^^^^^^>ttmJUIai) L •. ditpMilion, nature.
LIKE A WOMAN 5
r
■ Grace. I shall long much to have this riddle
V open'd, [^*i<fc.
* Jane. I would you were ao kind to my poor
kinswoman,
And the distressed gentleman her husband,
Poor master Low-water, who on ruin leans ;
You keep this secret as you keep his means.
[.Iside.
L. Gold. Thanks, good'' sir Oliver Twilight ; —
welcome,
Sweet master Pepper ton ; — master Overdone, wel-
[Exeunt all except Sir Oliver Twilioht
and S*vouRwiT.
Sir O. Twi. And goes the buaineaa well 'twixt
those young lovers?
Sav. Betwixt your son and master Sunset's
daughter
The line goes even, air.
Sir O. Twi. Good lad, I like thee.
Sav. But, sir, there's no proportion, height, or
evenness,
Betwixt that equinoctial and your daughter.
Sir O. Twi. 'Tis true, and I'm right glad on't
Sav. Are you glad, sir,
There's no proportion in't 1
Sir O. Twi. Ay, marry am I, -sir :
I can abide no word that ends in portion ;
I'll give her nothing.
Sav. Say you should not, sir —
As I'll ne'er urge your worship 'gainst your nature —
there no gendeman, think you, of worth and
1
wiu
credit.
open
1 bed to warm a naked maid ?
' Ttank; goad, &c] Hake* in old ei
s»».
16
A hundred gallant r«l)owa, umI be glad
To be 80 »el a-work : »irginiiy
Ii no Bucli cheap Mar« u j|ou make »
Tlint it had need with ^rtion be mi off;
For ihal seU offa pc" — '- "'- — -" —
SmO.Twi. Play™
Oy I could hear thi«
When there*B no ib'
Strike on, good lad
S*T. Do not wise ,
Ten ihouund pount*
If »<:>, what jewel cai
More precious than .
Why thnuld the p>llo<
\ be irrec'd
With that brave
brac'd ;
And then, perhaps, ere the third *pnn)i come on.
Send] home your diamond crack 'd, the beaaiy ({one;
And more to know her, 'cau«e you «ha]) not iloubt ]
bar,
A Dumber of poor ipark* twinkling nhont her.
". Twi. Now thou play'it Dowlaod'a La'
your eyei witb • merrT jig
crywtf' to thy m
hi ■ball I dry
A»J nakeyoa took lik« lunihins in a thawerT
$ra O. T'l. How, hoW| my lioneat boy, meet I
S*«oiirwitr
Saadfieid, gallant matter
■a •■•ftWfc"— ■ "nr 'Jt*''^ *°
ml ' Li^rtmM or wiYtn Tearn flgurtd
fmmm, whh diven other Pau*ni, Oil-
rt iwlb be Ifac LoM, VIoli, or Violooi.
Marital work, MmpMcd b)r
^
LIKE A WOMAN
17
Sav. Affects youT daugliter strangely.
SmO. Tni. Brave master Sandfield ! — let me
hug thy zeal
Onto thy master's house; — ha, master Sandfield!
But he'll expect a portion.
S&v. Not a whit, sir,
As you may use the matter.
Sib O. Twi. Nay, andi" tlie matter fall into my
The devil a penny that he gets of me I
Sav. He lies at the mercy of your lo
your lock and key,
You may use him as you list.
Sia O. Twi. Say'st thou me so ?
Is he so far in doing ?
Sav. Quite over head and ears, sir ;
Nay, more, he means to nin mad, and break his
Off some high steeple, if he have her not.
Sir O. Twi. Now bless the young gentleman's
gristles! I hope to be
A grandfather yet by "em.
Sav. That may you, sir.
To, marry, a chopping girl with a plump buttock.
Will hoist a farthingale at five years old.
And call a man between eleven and twelve
To take part of a piece of mutton with her.
Sir O. Twi. Ha, precious wag! hook him in
Sav. Make clear the nay for him ftrst, set the
gull going.
Sir O. Twi. An ass, an ass, I'll quickly daah his
vooing.
Sav. Wliy, now the clocks
a«d]i.
.if.
18 KO WIT, wo HELP
Go riglil again : it must be a strange wit
That makes the nlieels of youth and age ■<
The one are dry, worn, rusty, furr'd, and Koi]*d,
Love's wheels are glib, ever kept clean and oil'd.
[jitidf, and ejeit.
Sir O. Twi. I cannot choose but think of thit
good fortune; JIH
Thai gallant master Sandfield ! ^^^|
Enter Weatherwise. ^^|
Wea. Stay, stay, stay !
What comfort gives my almanac" to-day !
[ Takirif! out an alnuniac.
Luck, I beseech thee! [Reads} Good dayi, — evil
days, — June, — July; — speak a good word for me
now, and I have her : let rnc &ee. The fifth day,
'tn-iil hawk and buzzard; The iixlh day, backipaTd
and forward, — that was beastly to me. I remember j
The tecenth day, on a tlippery pin ; The eighth day,
fire and tow ; The ninth day, the market it marred, —
that's 'long of the hucksters, I warrant you ; but
now the tenth day — luck, I beseech thee now, be-
fore 1 look into't ! — The tenth" day, against the hair,
— a pox on't, would that hair had been left out!
against the hair? that hair will go nigh to choke
me ; had it been against any thing but that, 'twould
not have troubled me, because it lies croas i' the
way. Well, I'll try the fortune of a good face yet,
though my almanac leave me i' the sands. [Aitde,
Sir O. Twi. Such a match too, I could not wish
a better ! [^jliide.
WiA. Mais, here he walks. [Jside.'] — Save you,
tweet sir Oliver — sir Oliver Twilight.
i. p. S37, uid note.
LIKE A WOMAK s,
Sir O. Twi. O, pray come to me a quarter of a
year hence ;
I have a little busiaess now.
Wea. How, a tjuarler of a year hence ? what,
(hall I come to you in September 1
Sia O, Twi. Nor in November neither, good my
Wea. You're not a mad knight ! you will not let
your daughter hang past August, will youT she'll
drop down under tree then : she's no winter-fruit,
I assure you, if you think to put her in crust after
Christmas.
SiK 0. Twi. Sir, in a word, depart ; my girl's not
for you ;
I gave you a drowsy promise in a dream,
But broad awake now, I call't in again :
Have me commended to your mit, — farewell, sir.
[Exit.
Wea. Now the devil run away with you, and
some lousy Hddler with your daughter ! may Clerk-
enwell have the first cut of her, and Houndsditch
pick the bones I I'll never leave the love of an
open-hearted widow for a narrow-eyed maid again ;
go out of ihe roadway, like an aas, to leap over
hedge and ditch ; I'll fall into the beaten path again.
list seek ont n
e the widow home t
'ays,
: let who
I'll be at my journey's end
My a
n tliink to speed against the hair." [_Exit.
" agalnil Iht hair] L e. i^inat the grain, contrary to nilure.
20 ao WIT,
»easu
SCENE n.
A rooM m Low
WAtca'a kMT.
-wAoa.
MU.LOW. Uili
««».Mh<lpM
ligiog.,
For « diiirciiJ^d gi
1 li*r bv r
Hu viitiic no re«c.
• aOliwar
I* the Horld'i Ituc f-
c drrih b<ad-lM
lord?
0, bciw wu curiid«i
» heir, pal by r
Law wonid not do m
t.l«oa. deed.
ThoOKl. with the f«U o. a
.-'t lad been he'd.
Wbe,^ are our hop« in 1
I wu bonnty.
A yoimttcr »i»iDr, nitbooi
ponioD left.
Nod'-'Ty it, ihi' i-)iambe
Omi .'
Twt: . ruw
ihrre
no bkwcd nuMi.
N( r lin.Q that I may ktw Uf
MuHi- 1 ' . ' < r to bcffgwy IcaOi
My tiiiiiil liiitiu toundf is &ere no way to intai
it?
!•'! h'ti injuiiice UiM a widow lauglii.
And lay* iwr mourning pari upon a wife f
' init\ oU td. " D«viU."
' a>i«Vf>] A pl*f on Ih* woid— gold ooioi wonh about (en
•lilttlnic* DMb.
■< rHM Ik"* . ■ . M i^n^artaiiU tltain\ Caiii[i*re Bkellon'*
" Till tlnptti othtr tayiiM [vcin>] u oiure Indi bim
'Hip «i)rl. I* HI
tlLn-d.
" lllJIa rliiiiK nui oftutry Ilanck,
In wllilr MptiidvTa iltaf/ni."
Ursftuu'i JMwn Ulttiim, p. 3, td. 1G3D.
LtKS A WOHAH's. 21
I'hat she should have llie garment, I the heart 7
My wealth her uncle left her, and me her grief.
Yet, stood all miseries in their loathed'st forms
On this hand of me, thick like a foul mist ;
And here the bright enticements of the world
In clearest colours, flattery and advancement,
And all the bastard glories this frame jetsi in, —
Horror nor splendour, shadows fair nor foul,
Should force me shame my husband, wound my soul.
Enter Jahe.
Cousin, you're welcome ; this is kindly done of
To visit the despis'd.
Jane, I hope not so, coz ;
The want of means cannot make you despis'd;
Love not by wealth, but by desert, is priz'd.
Mis. Low. You're pleas'd to help it well, coz.
Jane. I'm come to you,
Beside my visitation, to request you
To lay your wit to mine, which is but simple,
And help me to untie a few dark words
Made up in knots, — they're of the widow's knitting.
That ties all sure, — for my wit has not strength
Nor cunning lo unloose 'em.
Mis. Low. Good : what are they 1
Though there be little comfort of my help.
Jane, She wish'd sir Oliver's daughter and my-
self
Good fortune in our choices, and repented her
Of a rash oath she look, when we were both infanta,
A secret to conceal; but since all's well.
She holds it best to keep it unreveal'd :
Now, what this is, heaven knows.
1 jell] i. e. «tnil».
1 gncM:
The course of her whole life and ker d«d !
Wu ever Tull of cuch dishonevt nddleB,
To keep right heir* from knowledge of ifcett ••■ :
And now I'm put i' the mind oa*l, I believe
It was some priced of lamt or nioaej ^*e*.
By some depurtin); friend upon tltrif d
Perhain tu yunraelf ; and air Olirer'a i
May wrongfully enjoy it, and ahe htr*d-
For ihe was but an hireling in ifaoa* days^
To keep the injury secret.
Jane. The most likeliest
That ever you could think on !
Mis. Low. Is it not?
Jake. Sure, coa, I think you hare untied the knot;
Hy thouglits lie at more ease : as in all otber
things,
In this I thank your help ; and may yon live
To conquer your own troubles and cross ends.
As you are ready to supply your friends !
Mis. Low. 1 thank you fur the kind truth of your
In which I flourish when all means depart. —
Sure in that oath of hers there sleeps some wroos
Done to my kinswoman. [^jltide.
Enter Footman.
Jane. Who'd you speak wiihal?
Foot. The gentlewoman of this bouse, forsooth.
Jane, Whose footman arc you ?
Foot. One sir Gilbert Lambslone's.
Jane. Sir Gilbert Lambsione's ? there my cousin
walks.
Foot. Thank your good worship. [£xtr Jane.
Mis. Low, How now? whence are you ?
•• frUt\ Qy. "pleca")
Foot. This letter will make known.
[^Giring letter to Mis. Low-water.
Mis. Low. Whence comes it, sir 1
Foot. From the knight my master, sir Gilbert
Mis. Low. Return'l; I'll receive none on't.
l^Thron'ing dotvtt letter.
Foot. There it must lie then ; I were as good
run lo Tyburn a-foot, and hang myself at mine own
charges, as carry it back again. [Exit.
Mis. Low. 'Life, had he not his answer? what
strange impudence
Governs in man when lust is lord of him !
Thinks he me mad ? 'cause I've no monies on earth,
That I'll go forfeit my estate in heaven,
And live eternal beggar ? he shall pardon me,
That's my soul's jointure — I'll starve ere I sell that.
O, is he gone, and lei\ the tetter here 7
Yet I will read it, more to hate the writer. [Reads.
Mistress Lom-mater, — If you desire to understand
your on'U comfort, hear me ttut ere you refuse me.
I'm in the tray Tioni to double the yearly meant that
first I offered you ; and to stir ymi more to me, I'll
empty your enemy's bags to maintain you; for the
rich niidow, the lady Guldei\fteece, to whom I have been
a longer tuitor than you an adversaTy,'^ hath given
me so much encouragement lately, insomuch that I am
perfectly assured the next meeting strikes the bargain.
The happiiieis that follows this 'twere idle to inform
you of; only eonient to my desires, and the tuidon-'t
notch shall tie open to you. This much to your heart ;
1 know you're mise. Farewell. Thy friend lo his pomtr
and another's, Gilbert Lambstone,
In this poor brief what volumes has he thrust
Of treacherous perjury and adulterous lusi !
1 nn arftfriory] Old pd. "a longer arfiWMry,"
' firi'f^ i- *■ *iior( writing.
24 KO WIT, NO HEI-r
So foul a monitcT docs thi* wrong appcnr,
That 1 give pity to mine enemy here.
What 3 most fearful love reignt in some liearts,
Th«t dare oppose nil judgment in get means.
And wed rich widows only to keep queans !
What a strange path he lakes to my ■tfcction.
And thinks 't the nearest way ! 'twill never be ;
Goes through mine enemy's ground to come to mi
This letter is most welcome; 1 repent now
That my last anger threw thee at my feet.
My bosom shall receive ihce.
[Putcing letter in her boiom.
Enter Sir Gilgeht Lahdstone.
SiaG. Lamb. 'Tis good policy too
To keep one thai so mortally hates the widow ;
She'll have more care to keep it close herself:
And look, what wind her revenge goes withal,
The sHr-same gale whisks up the sails of love I
I shall lose' much good sport by that, [_Aiide.^ —
Now, my sweet mistress!
Mis. Low. Sir Gilbert! you change suits' oft,
In black but lately.
Sir G. Laub. My mind never shifts though.
Mis, Low. A foul mind the whilst :
But sure, sir, this is but a dissembling glass'
You sent before you ; 'tis not possible
Your heart should follow your hand.
Sir G. Lamb. Then may both perish !
Mis. Low. Do not wish that so soon, sir : can you
' Iftt] Viei here perhaps ironicsUy : but qj. " EBstc " I
' mill] Old ei " Suiwrt."
■ glauj A rriend suggest! "gXou:" bul in set ii. k. 1.
Lndy G. wys of ihe letter in queslion, " here's a ghii will
A ihree-montlifl' love to a. ricli willow's bed,
And lay tier pillow under a quean's head ?
I know you can't, howe'er you may dissemble 't ;
You've a heart brought up belter.
Sir G. Lamb. Faith, you wrong me in't ;
You shall not find it so ; 1 do protest to thee,
I will be lord of all my promises,
And ere 't be long, thou shalt but turn a key.
And find 'em in thy coffer ; for my love
In matcliing with the widow is but policy
To strengthen my estate, and make me able
To set off all thy kisses with rewards;
That the worst weather our delights behold.
It may hail pearl, and shower the widow's gold.
Mis. Low. You talk of a brave' world, sir.
Sir G. Laub. 'Twill seem better
When golden happiness breaks forth itself
Out of the vast part of the widow's chamber.
Mis. Low. And here it sets.
Sin G. Lamb. Here shall the downfal be ;
Her wealth shall rise from her, and set in thee.
Mi8. Low, You men have th' art to overcome
Pray give my thoughts the freedom of one day.
And all the rest take you.
Sir G. Lamb. 1 straight obey.—
This bird's my own ! {^Atitie, and eiril.
Mis. Low. There is no happiness but has het
Herein" the brightness of her virtue shines :
The husk falls off in time, that long shut' up
The fruit in a dark prison ; so sweeps by
The cloud of miseries from wretches' ejes,
■ Htrtin] Qy. " Wherein " (
That yet, though fain, at length they Ke to rise
The secret powers work nondrously and duly.
Enter Low-water.
Low. Why, how now. Kale?
Mia. Low. O, are you come, sir ? husband.
Wake, wake, and let not patience keep thee poor,
Rouse up thy spirit from this falling slumber !
Mftke thy dislress aecm but a weeping drtram.
And this the opening morning of thy comforts ;
Wipe ilie salt dew off from thy careful eyes.
And drink a draught of gladness next thy heart,
T' expel the infection of all poisonous sorrows !
IjOW. You turn me past my senses \
Mis.I>aw. Will you but second
The purpose I intend, I'll be first forward ;
I crave no more of thee but a following spirit,
Will you but grant me that
Low. Why, what's the business
That should transport thee thus ?
Mis. Low. Hope of much good.
No fear of the least ill ; take that to comfort thee..
Low. .Yea?
Mis. Low. Sleep not oit't, ibia is no slumbering
business ;
'Tis like the sweating sickness, I must keep
Your eyes still wake, you're gone if once you sleep.
Low. I will not rest then till thou hast thy wishes.
Mis. Low. Peruse this lovc-papcr as you go.
l^Gicing UttcT.
Low. A letter? \_Ei.cuM.
Aroo
I in Sir Olivek Twilight's house.
Sir O. Twi. Good master Sandfield, for the great
affection
You bear toward m^ girl, I am well pleas'd
You should enjoy her beauty ; heaven forbiO, sir,
That I should cast away a proper gentleman,
So far in love, with a sour mood or so.
No, DO ;
I'll not die guilty of a lover's neck- cracking.
Marry, as for portion, there I leave you, sir,
To the mercy of your destiny again ;
I'll have no hand in that.
Sand. Faith, something, sir,
Be't but t' express your love.
Sir O. Twi. I've no desire, sir,
T' express my love that way, and so rest satisfied ;
I pray lake heed in urging that too much
You draw not my love from me.
Sand. Fates foresee, sir.
Sia O. Twi. Faith, then you may go, seek out a
high steeple.
Or a deep water — there's no saving of you.
Sav. How naturally he plays upon himself!
[/iside.
Sir O. Twi. Marry, if a wedding-dinner, as 1 told
you,
And three years' board, well lodged in mine house,
And eating, drinkiog, and a sleeping portion,
May give you satisfaction, I'm your man, air;
Sakd. I'm conient to embrace it, sir.
Rather iliati hazanl languisLment or ruin.
SirO. Twt. I love thee for ihy wisdnm ; luchaj
Will cheer s fnilier'a heart : welcome, iweet masur>]
Satidficlci.
Whither away, boys? Philipl'
Phil. To visit my love, sir,
Old master Sunset's daughter.
Sir O. Twi. That's my Philipl—
Ply'l hard, my good boys boih, put 'era to't fineljffl
One day, one dinner, and one house shall join you.
^"""■iTbat's our desire, sir.
Phil. )
[Eimmt SANoritLD and PhiliT(I
SirO. Twi. Pisl!' come hither, Savourwit ;
Observe my son, and bring me word, sweet boy.
Whether has a speeding wit or no in wooing,
Sav. TJial will 1, sir— That your own eyes might^
tell ye"
I think it speedy; your girl has a round belly. [£x>(.fl
SiaO.Twi. How soon the comfortable shine of joyS
Breaks through a cloud of grief!
Tbe tears that t let fall for my dead wife
Are dried up with the beams of my girl's fortunes 1 1
Her life, her death, and her ten years' distress,
Are even forgot with me ; the love and care
That I ougbt' her, her daughter sh' owes" it all ;
It can but be bcstow'd, and there 'tis ncU.
• PUii i.e. Hi.t: comiureval. ii-p. tflO.—Olded. "Piih."
• jir] Old cd. "you" — but l1ii> line was meant lo rbytne
■ ought] i. c. owed.
• ilT auni] Olded. "ilions:" — nrei, i.e. ono*, poiKiKi.
indeed, sir ;
e very welcome.
Desires some conTerence with you.
SiB O. Twi. How ! a Dutch merchant f
Pray, send him in to me. [Exit Servant.'] — Whai
news with him, iron?'
Enter Dutch Merchant, with a little Dutch Bny m
great slops. '^
D. Meb. Sir Oliver Twilight?
.Sir O. Twi. That's
I pray, be cover'd," sii _
D. Meb. This is my buainess, sir; I look into
my charge
A few words to deliver to yourself
From a dear friend of yours, that wonders strangely
At your unkind neglect.
Sir O. Twi. Indeed I what might
Hebe, lir?
D. Meh. Nay, you're i' the wrong gender now ;
'Tis that distresaSd lady, your good wife, sir.
Sm O. Twi. What say you, sir ? ray wife !
D. Meb. Yes, sir, your wife :
This strangeness now of yours seems more to hardi'it
Th' uncharitable neglect she tax'd you for.
Sib O. Twi, Pray, give me leave, sir ; is my wife
alive ?
D. Meb. Came any news to you, sir, to the con-
Sir O. Twi. Yes, by my faith, did there.
■ trninl i. e. think you,
' grtal ilirpi] i. t. wide irousen.
* ic RHvr'i/] i. e. put on your lint.
no WIT, NO HELP
O. Mer. Pray, how long since, sir?
SibO.Twi. Ti» now some ten wee!
D. Meb. Feith, within this month, i
I saw her (alk and eat ; and those, in our calendar.
Are signs of life and health.
.Sib O. Twi. Mass, so tbey are in ours !
D. Mer. And these were the last words her
passion' threw me, —
No grief, quoth she, siu to my heart so close
As his unkindnesB, and my daughter's loss.
.SibO.Twi, You make roe weep and wonder;
for I swear
I sent her ransom, and that di
D. Meb. Here! that will
her of one grief;
I long to see her, for the piteous moan
Her mother made for her.
Sir O. Twi. That shall you, sir.—
Within there .'
Re-enter Senanl.
Seb. Sir?
Sib O. Twi. Call down my daughter.
Seh. Yes, air. [Exit.
SibO.Twi. Here is strange budgelling;'' 1 tell
lughter'i here.
come well to lighten
ThoB
you, sir,
: that I put in trust were near
in would think they should r
'
Vly own so
D. Meb.
n and my
And yet t
ervant
fttimes
sir, wh
se people, sir.
It worse knave
to a
han he th
t eats his
meatT
■ paitionl i. e. sorrow,
begetting.-
farm of
•iggling.
A rridiil suggeali
A WOMAN S.
Sir O. Twi. Troth, you say true, sir :
I sent 'em simply, and that news tliey brouglit,
My wife had left the world ; and, with that son'
I sent to her, this brought his sister home :
Look you, sir, this ia she.
Enter Grace.
D.Mer. Ifmy eye sin not, sir.
Or misty error falsify the glass,
I saw that face at Antwerp in an inn,
When 1 set forth first to fetch home this boy.
SinO.Tw,. How 7 in an inn?
Grace. O, I'm betray'd, I fear! {^Aiide,
D. Mer. How do you, young mistress?
Grace. Your eyes wrong your tongue, sir,
And make'' you sin in both ; I am not she.
D, Meb. No? then I ne'er saw face twice.— Sir
Oliver Twilight,
I tell you my free thoughts, I fear you're blinded ;
I do not like this story ; I doubt much
The sister ia as false as the dead mother-
Sin O. Twi, Yea, soy you so, sir? I see nothing
lets"^ me
But to doubt so too then, —
So, to your chamber; we have done with you.
Grace. I would be glad you had : here's a strange
storm ! — {^Ande.
Sift it out well, sir ; till anon I leave you, sir. [Exit.
O. Mea. Business commands me hence ; but, as
a pledge
Of my return, I'll leave my little son with you,
Who yet takes little pleasure in this country,
'Cause he can speak no English, all Dutch he.
* fori] Qy. "sum'T but perhaps "lliii" io the nent line
meant SRVoumril.
' makt\ Oldrd. "makes." ' fed] i. b. hinders.
Sir O. Twi. A fine boy ; he is welcome, sir, to me.
D. Mer. Where's your leg and your thanka (o
the gender
n?
_ -- ^^^ -gkgen an pou thonket you,
hk doftckyou, rcr cm edcrttum rrcndfg kUe.
SirO. Twi. What says he, sir?
D. Mer. He thanks you for your kindness.
SirO. Twi. Pretty kna^e!
D. Mer. Had not some business held me by the
way,
This news had come to your ear ten days ago.
SirO. Twi. It cornea too soon now, methinks;
I'm your debtor.
D. Mer. But I could wish it, sir, for better ware.
Sir O. Twi. We must not be our own choosers
in our fortunes, ^Exit Dutch Merchant.
Here's a cold pie to breakfasi ! wife alive.
The daughter doubtful, and the money spent !
How am I juggled withal !
Re-entcT Savou
WIT.
Sav
It hits
i'faith, air;
Thew
ork ffoe
9 even.
SirO. Twi
0, come, come.
come!
Are y
u come
.sir?
Sav
Life, what's the matter
now!
Sir
O. Twi
There's a new
reckoning
Sav. Pox on't,
I thought all had been paid ; 1 can't abide
These after- reckonings. \^Aiidi:.
SirO. Twi. I pray, come near, sir, let's be ac-
quainted with you ;
You're bold enough abroad with ray purse, sir.
Sav. No more than beseems manners and good
LIKE A wouan's. 33
SmO. Twi, Did not you bring me word, some
My nife was dead ?
Sav. Ym, true, sir, very true, sir.
Sib O. Twi. Pray, slay, and lake my horse along
And with the ransom that 1 sent for her,
That you redeem'd ray daughter !
Sav, Right as can be, sir ;
I ne'er found your worship in a false tale yet.
SihO. Twi. I thank you for your good word,
sir; but I-m like
To find your worship now in two at once.
Sav. I should be sorry to hear that.
Sir O. Twi. I believe you, sir :
Within this month my nife was sure alive.
There's six weeks bated of your ten weeks' lie;
As has been credibly reported to me
By a Dutch merchant, father to that boy.
But now come over, and the words scarce cold.
Sav. O strange I — [^Aside.
'Tis a most rank untruth ; where is he, sir ?
SirO. Twi. He wiU not be long absent.
Sav. All's confounded I — \_/itide.
If he were here, I'd' tell him to his face, sir.
He wears a double tongue, that's Dutch and Eng-
lish.
Will the boy say't ?
SiB O. Twi. 'Los, he can speak no English.
Sav. All the better ; I'll gabble something to
him. [Asidt.'\ — HoysU kalotite, kalooikin ee t'ou, dar
*une, alia gaskin ?
D. Boy. Ick net neat matt hey xackl ; Ick unver-
slon nee neat.
' /'d] Old ed. ■■ ni."
{^mk^
S4T. Why.KI*M^a
S4kO.T«1. VWlMBAi
Say. Ht MTC W ftMK a
perfectMa M OM dBB flTlfe BMB, Mid Mlk» Bl
KUkdHMO.
SimO.Tvt. V\tt,im»Amhajmjmf
Sat. 1 kww tWt« «M w^w^ Ht :
Yout <*tf« ftkrel «a ]■■ Wlirw aiD tain, wrl
Su O. T«v Na;, «m«w w; b» taU ^ ha i
tlu* w«wK,
Which yott hniaflM haaw, M Aacwfp n m im
■Y<\i[*] IM, l-ai pUaly «m«'4 afdl Iwda.
'TJB uot nv imtfjum mmAn^
Stv. AQ'ihrclMawl—
How! net ywu dAN^Mr. ar I I
(jHiifiiniitiN inilnmmn, aJk omt
huff l^fi* U iiMt«r iAa»s kMH Ut
I). Uot. /rt n. laaU « ^ k^
/ rfinJrf utt trim ■»»—>.
Sav. O, (m >nMa
'twoiilil jtrov* i' ih' end :— the boj m;* ibey tkerer
i-uiiic iioiT Ai)i«er|i, » i|aiu cnutvry way, raund
ttiiout hy I'arma.
Hu O. Twi. Wliu'i Ihe Mne m^ smm
H*t. TliBi ii, he saw no >wcli wench ii
'lid wvtl I came in luch happv time, to )i«t it out tif
ihu hay beton hi* Tathcr TcturtXHl agun : pnjr, b«
waty, «lr, the world'* aubOo ; come ajtd pratei
rlinritable liu*inc*» in poUcy, and wotk out a p
■if iiiitney on you.
Kir 0, Twt. Mn**, art advised of that T
Kav, Th> aK« i* cunning, kit ; beiide. a Dutch-
niaii will live upon any ground, nrd work butter
"ut tit a thi»tle.
Km 0, Twi. Troth, tbou say'tt true in tbat;
they're the best thriven
LIKE A WOMAN S. 3a
In turnips, harti chalks, and cabbiahes;'
Our English are not like them.
Sav. Olie, no, sir!
Sir O. Twi. Ask him Trom whence the}r came
when they came hither.
Sav. That I nill, sir. — Cullaaron lagooso, tageen,
lagan, rtiffi, punkatee ?
D. Boi. Nimd ameigh de cack,
Sav. What, what? 1 cannot btame Iiim then.
Sia O. Twi, What saya he to thee t
Sav. The poor boy bluahea for him : he tells me
his father came from making merry with certain of
his countrymen, and he's a little steeped in English
beer ; there's no heed to be taken of his tongue now.
SiB O. Twi. Hoyday ! how com'st thou by all
this ? I heard him
Speak but three words to thee.
Sav. O sir, the Dutch is a very wide language ;
you shall have ten English words even for one; as,
for example, gullfler-gooie — there's a word for you,
Sir O. Twi, Why, what's that same guilder-goose?
Sav. How do you and all your generation!
Sir 0. Twi. Why, 'tis impossible! how prove you
that, air?
Sav. 'Tia thus distinguished, sir ; gttU, how do
you ; der, and ; goose, your generation.
SiaO. Twi. 'Tia a most saucy language; how
cam'st thou by't?
Sav, ! was brought up to London in an eel-ship.
There was ihe place I caught it first by the tail, —
I shall be tript anon ; pox, would 1 were gone ! —
{Aadt.
I'll go seek out your son, sir ; you shall hear
What thunder he'll bring with him.
■ kartichalki and cabhliei] i. e. artichokes ind cabbagei.
SiaO. r«i. Do, do, RsToarwit ;
111 harejtm all (»n ti> (an.
Sa*. CwU m*. trfaai cIm, htT —
Aitd* yoa lake me lo near tlie dpi afain,
III gire jon leave to lauat'iDc; I'tcteap'd (kirljr: ]
We're OBdofie in h; t ' * "
SibO.Twi. Never ■
taleaf
I IcDow nut wliicb I Thich to trvii ;
The bo; here » tbi lell trntli,
Because the world'a carrupi ia not jct
At fViIl year* in him ; aure hr cannot know
What deceit mean*, 'ti» Knelish yet to hiin :
And n)icn I think again, why ihonld the father
Diaicmblc fur no profit ? ho gets none,
Whate'er he buficH for, and I think he 1ia|>et not.
The man's in a good case, hein^ old and wf^ary.
He dnrr* not Iran hi* arm tin hit lon'ii ihouldcr.
For fear he lie i' the dirt, but miiil ho rnilirr
BehoUling< to n «tran|;er for hii prop. [Mide.
Itr-cntrr DxUeh ^fcTchnn^.
D. Miia. I make bold oner again, «ir, for a boy J
hfrc. I
SmO. Twi. O air, you're welcome! pray, re-'
solve" mc one thing, i "
• /*«J1 i.e.if.
' »giiijij Jtmicun {Sm, ta Bt. , . . „., _. _,
" Sj*<ii. to ilHkc with tbv open hand, particularly on lh» I
breech," In which ntnt the word ttetaa lo h* uhiI aboro.
■ IlrliMiiig'] I.e. BeboIdcD — a furin ofiha oard ti
in old wrlirra.
LIKE A woman's.
37
Did you within this month, with your own eyes,
See my wife living?
D. Mer. I ne'er borrow'd any:
Why should you move that question, sir ? disaem-
Is no part of my living.
SinO. Twi. I have reason
To urge it so far, sir — pray, be not angry though —
Because my man, was here since your departure,
Withstands all stiiBy; and to make ii clearer,
Question'd your boy in Dutch, who, as he told me,
Beiurn'd this answer first to him, — that you
Had imperfection at one time o' the moon.
Which made you talk so strangely-
D. Mer. How! how's this? — Zekke yongon, kk
lien ick quelt medien dullek lieghl, ee untoil van the
D. Boy. fVee ek }ieigh lieght in ae bohkas, dee't site.
D. Mer. Why, la, you, sit, here's no such thing !
He lies in's throat that says it.
S(« O. Twi. Tlien the rogue lies in's throat, for
he told me so ;
And that the boy should answer at next question.
That you ne'er saw this wench, nor came near Ant-
werp.
D.Meb. Ten thousand devils! — Zekke hee ewe
ek kneeght, yongon, dal wee neeky by Antwarpon ne
lion cammen no seene de doaghler dor.
D. Bor. lek hub ham hean lulka dongon he saut,
hei es an skallom an ruhbout.
D. Mer. He says he told hlra no such matter;
e and a rascal.
Sir O. Twi. Why, hov
me one thing,
What's gullder-gootc in Dutch?
1 1 abus'd ! Pray, tell
38 XO WIT| VO BBLP
D. Mer. How! gulUer^goote f there's no
Such thing in Dutch ; it may be an ats in English*
Sir O. Twi. Hoyday ! then am I that ass in plain
English ;
Vm grossly cozen'd, most inconsiderately I
Pray, let my house receive yon for one night.
That I may quit^ these rasods, I beseech you» sir.
D. Mer. If that may stead you, sir, I'll not re*
fuse you.
Sir O. Twi. A thousand thanks, and welcome^*-
On whom can fortune more spit out her foam,
Work'd on abroad, and play'd upon at home I
ACT 11. SCENE I.
A large room in Weatuerwise's house.
Enter Weatherwise while Servants are setting imi
a table, and Pickadill looking on.
Wea. So, set the table ready ; the widow's i' the
next room, looking upon my clock with the days
and the months and the change of the moon; I'll
i'etch her in presently. {_Exii.
Pick. Sbe*s not so mad to be fetched in with the
moon, I warrant you : a man must go roundlier to
work with a widow, than to woo her with the hand
of a dial, or stir up her blood with the striking part
of a clock ; I should ne'er stand to shew her such
things in chamber. [Exeunt Servants.
Re-enter Weatherwise handing in Lady Goldem-
FLEECE, Sir Gilbert Lambstone, Pefperton,
and Overdone.
Wka. Welcome, sweet widow, to a bachelor's
* quiti i. e. requite.
LIKK A UOltAN S. 39
house lierc! a single man I, but for two or three
maiils that I keep.
L. Gold. Why, are joii double with them,
tben?
Wba. An exceeding good mourning-wit! women
are wiser than ever tbey were, since they wore
doublets. You must think, sweet widow, ifa man
keep maids, they're under his subjection.
L. Gold. That's most true, sir.
Wea. They have no reason to have a lock hut
the master must have a key to't.
L. Gold. To him, sir Gilbert! he fights with me
r Gilbert strike, my weapon
falls,'
I fear no thrust but his : here are more shooters.
But they have shot two arrows without beads,
They cannot stick i' the butt yet : hold out, knight.
And I'll cleave the black pin in the midst o' the
wliite. {^Aside, and exit.
L. Gold. Nay, and he led me into a closet, sir,
where he shewed me diet-drinks for several months;
as 3curvy>grasB for April, clariHed whey for June,
and the like.
SiiL G. Lamb. O, madam, he is a most necessary
property,' an'i be but to save our credit ; ten pound
in a banquet.
L. Gold. Go, you're a wag, sir Gilbert.
Sin G. Laub. How many there be in the world
of his fortunes, that prick their own calves with
briars, to make an easy passage for others ; or,
like a toiling usurer, sets his son a-horseback in
■■ and] i. e. if.
' Ptttaary praptrtg] ThU expreisioQ c
. 59B 1 see nute, p. 6i0 of that vol., ud no
cloth'of-gold breeches, ivhile he hirnsclf goes to the
devil a-foot in a pair of old strossera !'
But shall I give a more familiai sign?
His are the sweetmeats, but the kisses mine.
[A'iwM ber.
Over. Excellent! — Apoxa'yourfortune! \jisidt.
Pep. Saucy courting has brought all modest
wooiog clean out of fashion: you shall have tew
maids now-a-days got without rough handling, all
the town's so used to'tj and most commonly, too,
they're joined before they're married, because they'll
be sure to be fast enough.
Over. Sir, since he strives t' oppose himself
against us,
Let's so combine our friendships in our straits.
By all means graceful, to assist each other ;
For, 1 protest, it shall as much glad me
To see your happiness, and his disgrace.
As if the wealth were mine, the love, the place.
Pep, And with the like faith I reward your
friendship ;
I'll break the bawdy ranks of his discourse.
And scatter his libidinous whispers straight. —
Madam - — —
L- Gold. How cheer you, gentlemen ?
Sir G. Lamb. Pox on 'em,
They wak'd me out of a fine sleep 1 three minutes
Had fastcn'd all the treasure in mine arms. [Aside.
Pep. You took no note of this conceit, it seems,
madam 7
L. Gold. Twelve trenchers,"" upon every one a
month !
January, February, March, April
., &c.-
c. tight ilrawen :
Pep. Ay, and tbeir posies under 'era.
L. Gold. Pray, what says May ? she's tbe spring
Pep. \ reads]
Norn gallant May," in her array,
Dolh make the Jielil pleasanl and gay.
OvEn. [reads]
This month of June m« clarified whey
Boil'd TvHh cold herbs, and drink aln'ay.
L. Gold. Drink't all away, he should say.
Pep. 'Twere much better indeed, and whole-
somcr for his liver.
Sir G. Lamb. September's a good one here:,
madam.
L. GoiD. O, have you chose your month ? lei's
hear'i, sir Gilbert.
SiK G. Lamb, {reads]
Now may'st thou physics safely take.
And bleed, and bathe for Iky health's sake;
Eat figs, and grapes, and spicery,
For to refresh thy members dry.
L, Gold. Thus it is still, when a man's simple
meaning lights among wantons : how many honest
words have sufTered corruption since Chaucer's
days ! a virgin would speak those words then that
a very midwife would blush to hear now, if she
have but so much blood left to make up an oimce
of grace. And who is this 'long on, but such wags
as you, that use your words like your wenches?
you cannot let 'em pass honestly by you, but you
must still have a flirt at 'ent.
Pep. You have paid some of us home, madam.
Now, gallant, &c.] Is retul. in old ed., by lady Golden
-12
1
Re-enter Weatiierwise.
Wea. If conceit" will strike tliia stroke, li
the widow's plum-tree ! I'll put "cm down all for
a banquet. \_Aride.'] — Widow and gentlemen, my
friends and servants, I make you wait long here for
a bachelor's pittance.
L. Gold. O, sir, you're pleased to be modest.
Wea. No, by my troth, widow, you shall find it
otherwise.
[^Miuic. The banquel^ h brought in, *ia of
Wbatuebwise's tenantt carryins the Twelve
Sign*, Ariet, Taimii, Gemini, Cancer, Leo,
I irgo. Libra, Scorpio, Sagillariun, Cnpricom,
AqunriuM, and Piicci, made of bampuiting-
eluff.
L. Gold. What, the Twelve Signs !
Wea. These arc the sii;ns of my love, widow.
" rmeril] i. «. fanciful IhoURht, itiircnioui device — alluding
10 the Signi sliich are prcunily brouf^hi in.
° /.art al, &c.] Compare lol. iii. p. 350.
' baHgutl} Equivalenl (ai 1 have already obaerveit, aec note,
voL ill. p. 352.) to what He now cnll t. deiierL C, Iklarhham,
in hi* Engliih ilmiaetft, baa the fallowing puaage. " I will
noir proceed to the ordering or letting forih of a Banquet,
vberein you (hall obierve, that Marchpaaea haie the Ural
place, Ibe middle place and latt place ; your preierved fruili
■hall be diah'd up Grit, your paitea next, your wet Suckcti
after ihem, then your dryed SiictieU, then your Mamialadea,
and Goodiniakea, then yourComfelaofall kindta; Next your
PsBrei, AppleH, Warden! back'd, raw or roated, and your
Orenees and Lemoni iliced; and laatly, your WaftT-cakei.
Tliut you shall order Ibeni in the cloiel; but when lliey gue
to Ibe Table, you iball firal aend forth a diih made fur the*
unly, Hi Deail, Bird, Fiih. Potvle, according to the invention :
tlien your Marchpane, then preserved fruile, then a Paile,
llien a vrel Sucket, then a dry Sucket. Marmalade. Ccmfeti,
Applea, Pcarea, Wardeni, Orengo and Lemoni, iliced ; and
then Wiferi, and anotber diih of preKTved &wtei, and lo
LIKE A WOMAN 1.
L. Goto. Worse meat would have serv'd us, i
by my faith,
I'm sorry you should be at such charges, a:
To feast us a whole month together here.
Wea. Widow, thou'rt welcome a whole
and ever !
L. Gold- And what be (hose, sir, that brought in
the banquet?
Wea. Tiiose are my tenants ; they stand for fast-
inft-days.
Sia G. Lamb. Or the six weeks in LenL
Wea. You're i" the right, sir Gilbert.—
Sweet widow, take your place at Aries here,
That's the head sign ; a widow is the head
Till she be married. [Lady Gold, till,
L.GoLD. What is she then?
Wea. The middle.
L. Gold. 'Tis happy she's no worse,
Wea. Taurus — sir Gilbert Lambatone, that's for
you;
They say you're a good town-hull.
Sir G. Lame. 0, spare your friends, sir! [Sits.
Wea. And Gemini for master Pepperton,
He had two boys at once by his last wife.
Pep. I hear the widow Gnd no fault with that,
sir. iSUt.
Wea. Cancer, the crab, for master Overdone ;
For when a thing's past fifty, it grows crooked.
L. Gold. Now for yourself, sir.
Wea. Take tio care for me, widow ; i I can be
cantcquenily all ihe rsit before, no two iliihea of one kincle
jioiug' or standing logelher, and this nili nnt Dno[y appoare
delicate to the eye, but invile the appetite with tbu much
variety tberenf." P. iSG.td. 1637.
1 Take no tan far lae, icfdw] I may jiut observe, ihaE thii
44 KO WIT, VO HELP
any where : here's Leo, heart and back ; Virgo, guts
and belly ; I can po lower yet, and yet fare better,
since Sagittarius fits me the thighs; 1 care not if
I be about the thighs, I Biiall find meat enough.
[Siu.
L. Gold. But, under pardon, sir,
Though you be lord o' the feast and the conceit
both.
Methinks it had been proper for the banquet
T' have had the signa all lill'd, and no one idle,
Wea. I know it had; but who's fault's that,
widow ? you should have got you more suitors to
have stopt the gaps.
L. Gold. Nay, sure, they should get us, and not
we them :
There be your tenants, sir ; we are not proud,
You may bid them sit down.
Wea. By the mass, it's true too !— Then sit down,
tenants, once with your hats on ; but spare the meat,
I charge you, as you hope for new leases : I must
make my signs draw out a month yet, with a bit
every morning to breakfast, and at full moon with a
whole one ; that's restorative : sit round, sit round,
and do not speak, sweet tenants ; you may be bold
enough, so you eat but little. [^Tenants «(.] — How
like you this now, widow ?
L. Gold. It shews well, sir.
And like the good old hospitable fashion.
Pick. Howl like a good old hospital? my mis-
iress makes an arrant gull on him. [Aside.
L. Gold. But yet, methinks, there wants clothes
for ihe feet.
speech of Wcatherwiie, and hit next speech bulone, " By the
mags," &c., teem (o have been intended for blank vene : and
prolmbly arc BomevibsC corrupted.
use A WOUAN S.
45
I
Wea. That part's uncovered yet :
matter for the feet.
L. Gold. Yes,' if the feet catch cold, the head
will feel it.
Wea, Why, then, you may draw up your legs,
and lie rounder together.
Sir G. Lamb. Has answered you nell, madatn !
Wea. And' you draw up your legs too, widow,
my tenant will feel you there, for he's one of the
calves.
L, Gold. Better and better, sir ; your wit fat-
tens BB he feeds.
Pics. Sh'as took the calf from his tenant, and
put it upon his ground now. [^.Iside.
Enter Servant.
Wea. How now, my lady's man? what's the
news, sir ?
Ser. Madam, there's a young gentleman below
Has earnest business to your ladyship.
Wea. Another suitor, I hold my life, widow.
L. Gold. What is he, sir I
See. He seems a gentleman,
Tliat*s the least of him, and yet more I know not.
L. Go^D. Under the leave o' the master of the
bouse here,
I would he were admitted.
Wea. With all my heart, widow; I fear him not,
Come cut and long tail." [Exit Servant.
SiK G, Lamb. I have the least fear
.\nd the most firmnesE, nothing can shake me.
• PmA] See note, vol. i. p. 29.
• l>i] Qy."Vet"t
• Ctntt cut and hig tail] L e, co
■ md] i. e. it
: who will — dogi of M
Wea. If he be a gentleman, he's welcome : there'*
a sign ilocs nothing, and that's lie for a genileman.
The feel will be kept
widow; for if he be a right gentleman, he has hit
stockings warmed, and he wears socks beside,
partly for warmth, partly for cleanliness; and if
he observe Fridays too, he comes excellent well,
Pisces will be a fine fiah-dinner for him.
L. Gold. Why, then, you mean, sir, he shall sit
Wea. Ay; and he were a lord, he shall r
above my tenants ; I'll not have two lords to
so I may go look my rent in another man's breeches ;
I was not brought up to be so unmannerly.
Enter Mistress Low-water, dUguiied at a gallant
gentleman, and Low-water as a scrving-n
Mis. Low. I have picked out a bold time : much
good do you, gentlemen.
Wea. You're welcome, as I may say, sir.
Mis. Low. Pardon my rudeness, madam.
L. Gold. No such fault, sir;
You're too severe to yourself, our judgment quits
you:
Please you to do a we do.
MiB. Low, Thanks, good madam.
L. Gold. Make room, gentlemen.
Wea. Sit still, tenants; I'll call in all your old
leases, and rack you else.
Tenants, O, sweet landlord !
Mis. Low, Take my cloak, sirrah. {_Giring cloak
to Low-water.] — If any be disturb'd,
I'll not sit, gentlemen : I see my place.
Wea. a proper woman turned gallant! If the
widow refuse me, I care not if I be a suitor to bim ;
LIKE A woman's. 47
1 have knonn those who have been as mad, and
given half their living for a male companion. [_,^s'ule.
Mis. Low. Howl Pisces I is that mine? 'lis a
conceited banquet. [^SiCa.
Wea, If you love any fish, pray, fall lo, sir; if
you had coine sooner, you niij{ht have happened
among some of the flesh-signs, but now they're all
taken up : Virgo had been a good dish for you,
had not one of my tenants been somewhat busy
with her.
Mia. Low. Pray, let him keep her, sir ; give me
meat fresh ;
I'd rather have whole fish than broken flesh.
Sib G. Lamb. What say you to a bit of Taurus ?
Mis. Low. No, 1 thank you, sir ;
The bull's too rank for me.
Sir G.Lamb. How, sir?
Mis. Low, Too rank, sir.
Sin G. Lamb. Fie, I shall strike you dumb, like
all your fellows.
Mis. Low, 'WhRt, with your heels or horns?
Sir G. Lamb. Perhaps with both.
Mis. Low, It must be at dead low water,
When I'm dead then.
Low. 'Tis a brave Kate, and nobly spoke of thee t
Wea. This quarrel must be drowned. — Pickadlll,
my lady's fool.
Pick. Your, your own man, sir,
Wea. Prithee, step in to one of the maids.
Pick. That ! will, sir, and thank you too.
Wea. Nay, hark you, sir, cull for my sun-cup
presently, I'd forgot it.
Pick, How, your sun-cup? — Some cup, I war-
rant, that he stole out o' the Sun-tavern.
l^Aside, and exit.
L. Gold. The more I look a
Methinks his beauty (Iocs so far transcend,
Turtia tlie signs back, makes that the upper end.
Wea. How cheer you, widow f — Genllemen, how
cheer you ?
Pair weather in all ciusrterB I
The sun will peep anon, I've sent one for him;
In (he mean time I'll tell you a tale of these.
This Libra here, that keeps the scale so even.
Was i' th' old time an honest chandler's widow,
And had one daughter nhich was called Virgo,
Which now my hungry tenant has deflower'd.
This Virgo, passing for a maid, was sued to
By Sagittarius there, a gallant shooter.
And Aries, his head rival ; but her old
Crabb'd uncle. Cancer here, dwelling in Crooked
Still crost the marriage, minding lo bestow her
Upon one Scorpio, a rich usurer;
The girl, loathing that match, fell into fully
With one Taurus, a gentleman, in Townbull ' Street,
By whom she had two twins, those Gemini there,
Of which two brats she was brought a-bed in Leo,
At the Red Lion, about Tower Hill :
Being in this distress, one Capricorn,
An honest citizen, pitied her case, and marri«l
To Aquarius, an old water-bearer,
And Pisces was her living ever after ;
At Standard" she sold fish, where he drew water.
All. It shall be yours, sir.
■ Toimbult Sirrell i. e. b jocuJar corruption, t nippoic, of
TuTDbuil, or, properly, Turn mi II Sireel: lee now, vol. W. p. 34.
■ SUuuiardl See nou, vol. i. p. 438.
J
LIKE A woman's. 49
L. Gild. Meat and mirth too ! you're lavish ;
Your purse and tongue have' been at cost to-day, sir.
Sir G. Lamb. You may challenge all comers at
these twelve weapons, I warrant you.
I
Re-efitf^
PtcKADiLL earrpng Ihe sun-cup, without kit
doublet, and nilh a veil over his face.
Pick. Your aun-cup, call you
voyage that I have made here
douhlet within, for fear I should
it? 'lis a simple
I have leO my
sweat through my
jerkin ;
fear of
and thro
un-burni
NXi a cypress"
over my face, for
Wea
How no
V? who's this?
why, sirrah 1
Pick
Can you
endure it, mistress'!
L.GoLt>. E'ndu
re what, fool ?
Wea
Fill the
up, coxcomb.
Pick
doublet
Wea
Nay, an't be no hotter, I'll go put on my
a^ain. \.^'**-
What a whoTBou sot is this !— Prithee, fill
the cup, fellow, and give'i the widow.
Mis, Low, Sirrah, how stand you?
Bestow your service there upon her ladyship.
[Low-wATERjSWf the Clip and preseiili it to
Ladf Golden fleece.
L. Gold. What's here? a sun ?
Wea. It does betoken, madam,
A cheerful day to somebody.
L.GoLD. h rises
Full in the face of yon' fair sign, and y
By course he is the 1;
Here, gentlemen, to you all.
For you know th
Signs.
' have] Old cd, " has."
° egprtii] Writleo also rgpnu, tiprti — i
like (or, accortting lo Narcs, Gleii. in v., iht
' ((o«] 01d«d. " you."
VOL. V. F
feel the heal, [jlside.
go through the Twelve
IDrlnh.
50 VO WIT, «0 BSIP
Wea. Most mttiUjf widow; yoo jump widi WKf
coneeit rightt
There's not a hair between oi.
L. Gold. Give it sir Gilbert.
Sib G. Lamb. I am the next through whom Ao
golden flame
Shines, when 'tis spent in thy eelestiBl ram ;
The poor feet there must wait and cool awhile.
Mis. Low. We have oar time* sir; joy and w«
■hall meet ;
Fve known the proud neek lie between the feet.
Wba. Soi round it goes.
[7%tf oihers drmk m mrdn.
Re»enier Picxadill.
Pkk. I like this drinking world well.
Wea. »So, fill*t him again.
Pkf. Fiirt mc 1 why, I drunk last, sir.
WcA. I know you did ; but Gemini must drink
twice,
UnlcKfi you mean that one of them shall be chok'd.
L. (roLD. Fly from my heart all variable thoughta!
She t)iat*B cntic*d by every pleasing object.
Shall find iimall pleasure and as little rest :
Tliis knave hath lov'd me long, he's best and wor-
thiest ;
I cannot but in honour see him requited. [AMk.
Sir Gill>crt Lambstone —
Mift. Low. How? pardon me, sweet lady.
That vvitli a bold tongue I strike by your words;
Sir Gilhert Lambstone!
Sill G. Lamb. Yes, sir, that's my name.
Mis. Low. There should be a rank villain of that
name;
Came vou out of that house ?
,r
1
UKE A WOMAK s,
let's have no roaring licre. If I had ihoiight that,
I'd have sent my bull la the bear-garden.
Pkp. Why, BO you should have wanted one of
your signs.
Wea. But I may chance want two now, and*
they fall togeiher by the ears.
L, GoLO. What's the strange lire that works in
these two creatures!
Cold signs both, yet more hot than all their fellowa.
Wea. Ho, Sol in Pisces! the sun's in New Fish
Street; here's an end of this course.
Pick. Madam, I am bold lo remember your wor-
ship for a year's wages and a livery cloak.
L. Gold. How, will you shame me f had you not
both last week, fool 7
Ptck. Ay, but there's another year past since
thiit.
L. Gold. Would all your wit could make that
Pick. I am sure the sun has run through all the
Twelve Signs since, and that's a year; these* gen-
Wea. The fool will live, madam.
Pick. Ay, as long as your eyes are open, 1 war-
Mis. Low. Sirrah.
Low. Does your worship call?
Mis. Low. Commend my love and service to the
widow.
Desire her ladyship to taste that morsel.
IGiving letter lo Low-wateh, nho carries it
to Lady Goldenfleece,
• audi i. e. if. ■ Iheie] Old ed. " tlli«."
M t:0 WTTi XO BELT
Loir. Tbii ti the bit I iriich'd for all ti
But it come* duly.
SiK G. L4MB. And wherein hu ibn aaiaed
ofieoded,
Thil you're so liberal of your infaBwai titles,
I but ji stranger to thee ! it tniut be kimwn. lir.
Ere me iwo pari.
Mi«. Low, Marry, and reason good, sir,
L.GoLi>. O, strike me cold! — This should be
your hand, sir Gilbert i
SiB G. Limb. Why, make you question of thai,
madam ? 'tii one of the tetters I sent you.
L. Gold. Much good do you, gentlemen. [Aumf .
^^^■^j How now? whafs the matter! [ja rit.
Wea. Look to the widow, she |>ain(s white-
Some aqua cakttU for my lady ! run, rillain.
Pick. Aqva tolislerf can nobody help her eaac
but a lawyer, and so many suitors here F
L. Goij>. O treachery unmatch'd, unhi-ard of I
Sib G. Lamb. How do you, madam ?
L. Gold. O impudence as foul ! does my ilisesae
Ask bow I do 7 can it torment my Heart,
And look wiih a fresh colour in my face !
Sib G. Lamb. What's this, what's this ?
Wba. I am lorry for liiis qualm, widow.
L. Gold. He that would know a villain when he
meets him,
Let bim ne'er go to a conjuror ; here's a glass
Will shew him without money, and far truer. —
Preserver of my state, pray, tell me, sir,
That I may pay you all my thanks together.
What hlest hap brought that letter to your hand.
From me so fast lock'd in mine enemy's power.
M:s. Low, 1 will resolve' you, madam. I've a
kinsman
' nttivtl L e. utiily, inToim.
Somewhat infected with thai wanton pity
Which men bestow on the distress of women,
Especially if they be fair and poor ;
With such hot charity, which indeed is lust.
He sought t' entice, aa his repentance told me,
Her whom you call your enemy, the wife
To a poor gentleman, one Low-water
L. Gold. Right, right, the same-
Low. Had it been right, "t had now been. [^Aside.
Mis. Low. And, according to the common rate of
Offer'd large maintenance, which nith her scem'd
nothing ;
For if she would consent, she told him roundly.
There was a knight had bid more at one minute
Than all his wealth could compass ; and withal,
Pluck'd out that letter, as it were in scorn,
Which by good fortune he put up in jest.
With promise that the writ should be returnable
The next hour of his meeting. But, sweet madam,
Out of my love and zeal, I did so practise
The part upon him of an urgent wooer.
That neither he nor that return'd more to her.
SiB G. Lamb. Plague a' that kinsman ! Inside.
Wea. Here's a gallant rascal !
L. Gold. Sir, you've appear'd so noble in this
.So full of worth and goodness, that my thanks
Will rather shame the bounty of my mind
Than do it honour. — O, thou treacherous villain !
Does thy faith bear such fruit 1
Are these the blossoms of a hundred oaths
Shot fi-om ihy bosom! was thy love so spiteful.
It could not be content to mock my heart.
Which is in love a misery too much,
But must extend so far to the quick ruin
M
0 WIT, Ko neu"
or what was painrully got, carefully left me ;
And, 'mongst a world of yielding needy women,
Choose no one to make merry wiih my sorrows.
And spend my weiillh on in adulterous surfeiu,
But my most mortal enemy ! O, despiteful !
Ii this thy practice? follow it, 'twill advance thee;
Go, beguile on. Have I so happily found
What many a widow has with sorrow tasted,
Even when my lip touch'd the contracting cup.
Even then to see the spider ? 'twas miraculous I
Crawl with thy poisons hen» ; and for ihy sake
I'll never covet titles and more riches,
To full into a gulf of hate and laughter:
I'll marry love hereafter, I've enough ;
And warning that, I've nothing. There's tliy way.
Over. Do you hear, sir? you must walk.
Pep. Heart, thrust him down stairs!
Wea. Out of my house, you treacherous, lechei- ,
8iuG. Lamh. All curses scatter you I
Wea. Life, do you thunder herel [£xi(SiKa^
Lambstoke.] If you had stayed a little longer, I'd
have ript out some of my Bull out of your belty
again.
Pep. 'Twas a most noble discovery; we must
love you for ever for'l.
L. Gold. Sir, for your banquet and your mirth
we thank you ; —
You, gentlemen, for your kind company ; —
But you, for all my merry days to come.
Or this had been the last else.
Mi3. Low. Love and fortune
Had more care of your safety, peace, and si
madHm.
Wea. Now will I thrust in for't. [Atidt, i
Pep. I'm for myself now. [Atiia, J
0?EK. What's fifty years? 'do man's best lime
and season ;
Now the knight's gone, the widow will hear reason,
Low. Now, now, the suitors flatter, hold on, Kate ;
The hen may pick the meat while the cocks prate-
{_Extunl,
SCENE II.
A street.
EnUr Sandfield, Philip Twilight, and Satoubwit.
Phil. ITtliou talk'st longer, I shall turn to marble,
And death will stop tny hearing.
Sand. Horrible fortune !
Sav. Nay, sir, our building is so far dcfac'd.
There is no stuff left to raise up a hope.
Phil, O, with more patience could my flesh endure
A score of wounds, and all their several searchings.
Than this that thou hast told me 1
Sav. Would that Flemish ram
Had ne'er come near our house! there's no going
As long as he has a nest there, and bis young one,
A little Flanders egg new fledg'd: they gape
For pork, and I shall be made meat for 'cm.
Phil. 'Tis not the bare news of my mother's
life—
May she live long and happy ! — that afflicts me
With half the violence that the latter draws ;
Though in that news I have my share of grief,
As I had share of sin and a foul neglect;
It is my love's betraying, that's the ating
That strikes through flesh and spirit ; anil sense nor
From thee, in whora 1 ne'er saw ebb till now,
SV vo WIT, xo nsLr
Nor gwferU frotn > faithful frienil can ease me ;
in uy the KOOtlncM of a thiid companion,
What bc'U do for mc. [Drairmg hit rvord.
Baud. Hold ! why, friend
Sat. Why, muter, if this all your kindnes*, sir T
offfT to alfal into another country, and ne'er take
Cleave on'*? troth, I take It unkindly at your
«, lir; liut I'll put it ay fur once. IS/ieath'tng
PuiLir'* nrord.] Faith, there vraa no conseii-nce in
this, lir; leave me here to endure all weather*,
whiUt you make your toul dance like a juggler's
egg upon the point of a rapier! By my troth, sir,
you're to blame in'l ; you mij^ht have given us an
inkling of your journey ; perhaps others would ss
fain have gimc a> you.
Piiii.. Burnt thii clay-lamp of miacrable life.
When joy, the oil that feed* it, is dried up ?
Enttr Lady Twilioht, Betekil, and Sftvanfs.
L. Twi. He has remov'd hh house.
Bev. So il scemi, madam.
LTwi. I'll ask that gentleman. — Pray, can you
tell me, sir,
Which in sir Oliver Twilight'i ?
Ph:l. Few can hettcr, gentlewoman;
It is the next fair house your eye can fix on.
L. Twi. I thank you, sir.— Go on. [^Eieunt Ser-
eanli.] — He had a son
About some ten years since.
Phil. Tliat son still lives.
L. Twi. I pray, how does he, sirT
Phil. Faith, much about my health, — that's never
worse. — [A tide.
If you have any business to him, gentlewoman,
I can cut short your journey to the house ;
I'm all that ever was of the same kind.
J
LIKE A WOKAK
Upon tlie heart of mother! — This is 1
Bev. My seven-years' travel has e
' my remembrance.
Sav. 0, this gear's wo
se and nor
so ! [Aiide
Pmr.. I am so wonder-
struck at >
our blest pre-
That, through amaz'djoy, I neglect my duty.
[KneeU.
L. Twi. [raising Aim] Rise, and a thousand bless-
ings spring up wiih thee I
Sav. I would we had but one in the meantime ;
Let the rest grow at leisure. [_Aiide.
L. Twi. But know you not this gentleman yet,
son?
PniL. I take it's master Beveril.
Bev. My name's Beveril, sir.
Phil. Right welcome to my bosom!
\_Embracing him.
L. Twi. You'd not think, son,
How much I am beholding' to this gentleman,
As far as freedom ; he laid out the ransom.
Finding me eo distress'd.
Phil. 'Twas worthily done, sir.
And I shall ever rest your servant for't.
Bev. You quite forget your worth ; 'twasmygood
To return home that way, after some travals ;
Where, finding your good mother so distress'd,
I could not but in pity see her releas'd.
Phil. It was a noble charity, air ; heaven quit'
you I
■ beholdhg} See noie. p. 38.
* gaii] i. e. requite.
58 KO WIT, HO BBLf
Sav. It comes it lut ! [vfrirfc
Bev. I \el\ a lister here.
New married when I Iasi took leave of England.
Phil. O, niUtres* Low-water.
Bev. Pray, lir, how does she ?
Pmt- So tittle comfort I can ^ve you, sir.
That I would fain excuse myself for silence.
Bet. WTiy, what's the worst, sJt ?
Phil. Wrongs haTe*" made her poor,
Bev. Vou strike my heart : alas, good gcDtle-
Phil. Here's a gentleman —
You know liim— master SnndfieM —
Bet. I crave pardon, sir.
Phil. He can resolve' you from her kinswoman.
Sand. Welcome to England, madam !
Ladv Twi. Thanks, good sir.
Phil. Now there's no way to 'scape, I'm com-
pass'd round ;
My shame is tike a prisoner set with halberds.
Sat. Pish, master, master, 'lis young flood again.
And you can take your time now ; away, quicit!
Phil. Push,'' thou'st a swimming head.
Sav. Will you but liear me?
When did you lose your tide when I set forth with
you!
Phil. That's true.
Sav. Regard me then, though you've no feeling;
I would not hang by the thumbs with n good will.
PuiL. 1 hang by th' heart, sir, and would fain
have ease.
Sav, Then this or none: fly to your mother'*
p'ty.
■i ftaw] Old ed. "h«»."
' re«(B<] See nolC, p. S2 — "h
inesDi Jane. ' Puih'] See noie, rol. i. p. 10.
J.
quite
hear you ;
n for 'em ;
id not nicely ;
For that's ihe court must help you; you'
At conimon law, no counsellor Ci
Confess your follies, and ask par
Tell her the state of all things, s
The meat's too hard
To be minc'd now, she breeds young bones by this
Deal plainly, heaven will bless thee ; turn out all,
And shake your pockets ader h ; beg, weep.
Kneel, any thing, it will break no bones, man :
Let her not rest, take breathing time, nor leave
thee,
. Till thou hast got her help.
Phil. Lad, I conceive thee.
Sav. About it, (hen ; it requires haste — do't well ;
There's but a short street hetneen us and hell.
Bev. Ah, my poor sister!
L. Twi. 'Las, good gentlewoman !
My heart even weeps for her. — Ay, son, we'll go
Phil. May I crave one word, madam ?
ISlauins Lady Twilight."
L.Twi. With me, son?
The more, the better welcome.
Sav. Now, now, luck !
last prayer 1 made
t Bartholomew- tide ; 'twould
i
I pray not olten ; tbi
Was nine-year old h
have been
A jolly chopper and^
L. Twi. Why do your word
Of her that ever lov'd ihem ?
had liv'd till this tim
: words start hack ? )
B they
■ Slaving
<«*ili.
tg Lady Tvilighl] OIU ed, " Shog, hii ihHier.
Phil, i'tv a wit u j««, mmi
L. Tvi. Yott'n uld Be iW
irt be M |rreu> my
I thkU be abler, iK->'
Wha4c>r '( be. Ic
ftr't.
Pbil. [tKWf] R
tbemmi
My coasdnacc Icdfc
IdIo uniwuural in
I spent iht rMiioR «lwrMS^
To lel my pleuurei .-, joa by ^
Say. He doei it hociy, luai. [AiA
L.Twi. And» thiiiUiMwT
You use me like a •iranscr; pray, (taDd up.
Pbil. Rather fall flat; I ihall ikwrrc y«cj
L. Twi. [rnijtnjp PiiiLtp] Whaic'er yniar I
are, caiecm me ■till a fnend,
Or else you nroog ine matt iu aAkti^c pardon
Than when you ilid the wrong you aik il it far ;
And gince you have prepar'd inc to fur^irc you.
Pray, let me know Tor what ; the (irtt fault* im
thing.
Sav. 'Ti» a sweet lady every inch of her!
I the nrn>ng then that drirM
pHit. Her
cihe
I aaiT a face at Antwerp that quite drew me
From conscience and obedience ; in thai fray
1 loBt my heart, t must needs lose my way ;
There went the ransom, to redeem my mind ;
'Stead of the money, I brought over her ;
And to cast iniata before my father's ey«s,
Told Lin
And that yourself was dead: vou see ihe wrong,
L. Twi. This is bul youtlifu'l siill.— O, that word
Afflicts me when I think on't! — I forgive thee
As freely as thou didst it; for, alas,
This may be call'd good dealing to^ gome parts
That love and youth play** daily among sons.
Sav- She helps our knavery well, that's one good
comfort. [yfsiJe.
Phil. But such is the hard plight my state lives
That 'tnixt forgiveness 1 must sin again,
And seek my help where 1 bestow'd my wrongs :
O mother, pity once, though against reason,
'Cause 1 can merit none ; though my wrongs grieve
ye,'
Yet let it be your glory to relieve me!
L. Twi. Wherein have ! given cause yet of mis-
That you should doubt my succour and my love !
Shew me but in what kind I may bestow 'em.
Phil. There came a Dutchman with report this
That yo,
ivmg.
L. Twi. Came he so lately ?
Pmt.. Yes, madam;
Which news so struck my father on the sudden.
That he grows jealous' of my faith in both ;
These five hours have I kept me from his sight,
And wish'd myself eternally so hid ;
And surelyi had not your blest presence quicken'd
The flame of life in me, all had gone out.
D. compare d with.
* play] Old ed. " playi."
ye] Old ed. " you :" but B couplet wu evideody intinded.
62 xo wir, Ko HELP
Now, lo coniirm tne to his trust again,
And settle much artglit in liii opinion,
Say Imt she is my sisitr, and all's well,
L. Twi. You ask devotion) like a bashrul heggMt,
That pure need urges, and not lazy impudence ;
And to express how glad I am to pity you.
My bounty shall flow over your demand ;
I will not only with a constant breath
Approve** that, but excuse tliee for my death.
Sav. Why, here's
A woman made as a man would with to have hert
PiiiL. 0, I am plac'd higher in happinecs
Than whence 1 fell before !
Sav, We're brave fellows once again, and' wt
can keep our own :
Now holfre loHic, our pipes play as loflily! [^Atide,
Bev. My sister fled!
Sasd. Both fled, that's the news now: want
must obey ;
Oppressions came so thick, they could not stay.
Bev. Mean are my fortunes, yet, had 1 been nigh,
DiEiress nor wrong should have made virtue fly.
L. Twi. Spoke like a brother, worthy such a
Bet, Griefs like a new wound, heat beguiles
the sense,
For I shall feel this smart more three days hence.
Come, madam, sorrow's rude, and forgets manners.
![Excvnl all except Savoprwit.
Sat. Our knavery is for all the world like a
shifting bankrupt ; it breaks in one place, and sets
1 ilnvliim'] Campnrc the rnnnuiK'un Strvict, "»htl\ rectrive
the almt Tnr the poor, an J other lUtoIiimi of Ifae people, in a
dreent baain."
' 'fpp'i'^] i- *- prove. and] L t. it
I
LIKE A woman's. 03
up in another : he tries all trades, from a gohUinith
to a tobacco-seller; we try all shifis, from an out-
law to a flatterer : he cozens the husband, and com-
pounds with the widow; we cozen my master, and
compound with my mistress: only here I turn o*
the right hand from him, — he is known to live like
a rascal, ivlien I am thought to live like a gentle-
man. lExit.
.SCENE III.
n Ladt Goi
Enter Mistress Low-water and Low-water, bot/t
disguised as before.
Mis. Low. I've sent in one to the widow.
Low. Well said, Kale !
Thou ply'st thy business close; the coast is clear
Mis. Low. Let me but have warning,
I shall make pretty shift with them.
Low. Titat thou shalt, wench. [^Exil.
Enter Servant.
Ser. My lady, sir, commends her kindly to you.
And for the third part of an hour, sir.
Desires your patience ;
Two or three of her tenants out of Kent
Will hold her so
Mis. Low. Th
'Tis fit 1 should
i
I busied.
and leisure.
lExit Servant
Those wore my tenants once ; but what relief
Ib there in what hath been, or what I was ?
'TJB now that mokes the man ; a last-year's feast
Yielda little comfort foT the pretetil humour i
He starve! that feed* his hopes with what it past. —
Low. They're come, newly alighted.
Mis. Low, Peace, peace!
I'll have a trick for 'em ; look you second n
nil
Low. I warrant thee.
Mis. Low. I must seem very imperious, I can
tell you ; therefore, if I should chance to use you
roughly, pray, forgive me beforehand.
Low. With all my heart, Kate.
Mis. Low. You must look for no obedience in
these'' clothes; that lies in the pocket of my gown.
Low. Well, well, I will not then.
Mis, Low. I hear 'em coming, step back a little,
sir. [Low-WATBR retire*.] — Where be those fellows?
• Enter WEATHEawisE, Peppehtok, and Overdose.
Who looks out there? is there ne'er a knave i' th'
house to take those gentlemen's horses ? where wait
you to-day ? how stand you, like a dreaming goose
in a corner? the gentlemen's horses, forsooth !
Low. Yes, an't like' your worship. [^Exit.
Pep. What's here? a strange alteration I
Wea. a new lord ! would I were upon my mare's
back again then I
Mis. Low. Pray, gentlemen, pardon the rudetiess
of these grooms,
I hope they will be brought to better fashion ;
In the meantime, you're welcome, gentlemen.
All. Wc thank jou, sir.
Wba. Life, here's quick work I I'll hold my life,
» Ihtu'] Old ed. ■' those."
;««] i.
n
has Btiiiek ihe widow i' the right planet, Fmutin
Cauda.' I thought 'twas a lecherous planet that goes
to't with a caudle.
Re-enter Low-water.
Mia. Low. How now, air?
Low, The gentlemen's horses are set up, sir.
Pep. No, no, no, we'll away.
Wea. We'll away.
Mis. Low. How ! by niy faith, but you shall not
yet, by your leave. — Where's Bessf — Call your
RiistresB, sir, to welcome these kind gentlemen, my
friends. [Exit Low-watzr.
Pep. How! Bess?
Over. Peg?
Wea. Plain Bess? 1 know how the world goes
then ; he has been a-bed with Bess : i'faith, there's
no trust to these widows ; a young horsing gentle-
man carries 'em away clear.
Re-enter Low-water.
Mis, Low. Now, where's your mistress, sir 7 how
chance she comes not 7
Low. Sir, she requests you to excuse her for a
while ; she's busy with a milliner about gloves.
Mis. Low, Gloves!
Wea. Hoyday ! gloves too !
Mis. Low. Could she find no other time to choose
gloves but now, when my friends are here ?
Pep. No, sir, 'tis no matter ; we thank you for
your good will, sir : to say truth, we have no
business with her at all at this time, i'faith, sir.
Mis. Low, O, that's another matter ; yet stay,
stay, gentlemen, and taste a cup of wine ere you
go-
Over. No, thank y
Mi». Loir. Ms«ur Pepperion — master Weather-
nriH, will joa, tirT
Wea. 111 nee the wine in a drunkard's Bhoes
fint, and drink't after he has brened it. But let
her BO i (he** fitted, iTaith ; a proud, turly sir here,
be uominren already ; out; that will shake her
bones, and so lo dice with her money, or I have no
skill in a c^endar : life, he that can be so saucy to
call her Bess already, will call her prating quean a
TDontlt bcDce.
lExevnt Weatuerwibe, Pepperton, and
Overdone,
Low. They've given thee all the slip.
Mia. Iiow. So, a fair riddance I
There's three rubs gone, I've a clear way to the
Low, You'd need have a clear way, because
you're a bad pricker.
Mts. Iiow. Yet if my bowl take bank, I shall go
nigh
To make myself a saver,
Here's alley-room enouch ; I'll try my fortune:
I'm to begin the world like n younger brother ;
I know tliat a bold face and a good spirit
Is all the jointure he can make [a] widow.
And 't shall go hard but I'll be as rich as be.
Or at least seem so, and ihai's wealth enough ;
For nothing kills a widow's heart so much
As a faint, bashful wooer; though he have thou-
sands.
And come with a poor water-gruel spirit
And a fish-market face, he shall ne'er speed ;
I would not have himself left a poor widower.
Low, Faith, I'm glad I'm alive to cornmend thee,
Kate ; I shall be sure dow to see my commendations
delivere<l.
Mis. Low. I'll put her to't, i'faitli.
Low. But soft ye, Kate ;
How and* she should accept of your bold kindness?
Mis, Low. A chief point to be thought on, by
my faith .'
Marry, therefore, sir, he you sure to step in.
For feai I should shame myself and spoil all.
Low. Well, I'll save your credit then for once;
but took you come there no more-
Mis. Low. Away ! 1 hear het coming.
Low. I am vanish'd. {^EiU.
Enter Lady Goldbn fleece. '
Mis, Low, How does my life, ray soul, my denr
sweet madam 7
L, Gold, I've wrong'd your patience, made you
stand too long here.
Mis, Low, There's no such thing, i'faith, rnadam,
you're pleas'd to say so,
L. OoLD. Yea, J confess I was loo slow, sir.
Mis. Low. Why, you shall make me amends for
ihat, then, with a quickness in your bed.
L. Gold, That were a speedy mends, sir.
Mis. Low, Why, then, you are out of my debt;
I'll cross the book, and turn over a new leaf with
you,
L. Gold. So, with paying a small debt, I may
chance run into a greater.
Mis. Low. My fajlh, your credit will be the
better then ; there's many a brave gallant would
be glad of such fortune, and pay use for't,
I nni] i. e. if.
L. Goto. Sorn« of them hare nodiiag rb« to do ;
they would be tdle aod" 'twere noc (or interetl.
Mi9, Low. I prODiite you, widow, were I a *etm
up, such it my opinion of your payment, I dnnt
trust you with alt the ware in my ibop.
L. Gold. I thank yon for your good will, I can
have no more.
Mis, Low, Not of me, i'faith ; nor that neither,
and"* you knew" all. [^Ande.'] — Come, make but
short service, widow, a kiss and to bed; I'm very
hungry, i'faith, wench.
L, Gold. What, are jon, sir!
Mis. Low. O, a younger brother has an excel*
lent stomach, madam, worth a hundred of your
BOni and heirs, that stay their wedding- stomachs
with a hot bit of b common mistress, and then come
to a widow's bed like a flash of lightning: you're
sure of the first of me, not of the five -hundredth of
them ; I never took physic yet in my life ; you shall
have the doctor continually with them, or some
boitle for his deputy, out fliea your moneys for
restoratives and strengthenings; in me 'tis saved
in your putse and found in your children : they'll
get peevish" pothecaries' stuff, you may weigh 'em
by th' ounces ; I, boys of war, brave commanders,
that shall bear a breadth in their shoulders and a
weight in their hips, and run over a whole country
with a pound a' beef and a biscuit in their belly.
vidow, ray kiitses are virgins
perfect, my strength solitl, my lot
heat comfortable ; but, to come ti
■ jKHntA] i, e, fooliib, weak, poor.
t knew Ronua I
I knew her, by ihia
LIKE A woxAs a. 69
Lv Gold. But lofl )re, soft ye ; because you aund
so strictly
Upon your purity, 111 pnt you to't, sir ;
Will you snear here you n
Mts. Low. Never, aa ma
light, widow !
L. Gold. What, what, air? — 'Shrew my heart, be
movea me luucb. [/ttide.
Mis. Ixiw. Nay, since you lore to bring a inan
I take into the aame oath thua much more.
That you are the first nidow, or maid, or wife.
That ever I in suit of love did court.
Or honestly did woo : bow say you to that, widow 1
L. Gold. Marry, I aay, air, you had a good por-
tion of chastity led you, though ill fortune run
away with the rest.
Mis. Low. That I kept for thee, widow ; ahe'a
of fortune, and all her strait - bodied daughiera ;
thou shall bave't, widow. [A'iwiiig her.
L. Got-D. Puah,^ what do you mean!
Mia. Low. I cannot bestow't better.
L. GoLn. I'll call my servants.
Mis. Low. By my troth, you shall not, madam.
Re-enter Low-water.
Low. Does your worship call, air ?
Mis. Low. Ha, pox! are you peeping ?-
[_Tkromt'* tomelbing at Low-water,
He came in a good time, I thank hin
L. Gold. What do yon think of m
forward, air I
for't. [^Atide,
? you're »ery
I
I
Ik. Law. Dm 1«>» AmM mA mm «Eif« h
tf il ^ ^ AmK TM Mt WmI M CM.
-*^ I, 'i - '• ^ ,
mJuTTw kM Mf «^*9a r
~ , M^rn Mk A*
Su. fl« ^BTT Mf Uj - *^> Anv'i BO sach
Hn. Low. O. hcR dwT n* aO ■««■ wo!
Ik Gouk. Are yo« eme, gtMlea^ !
I wish no bettcc men.
' WcA. O, the mooa's Aamf'A mom I
L. Gold. See jwi OtU geadcna yooderf
Pef. Ye^ twetl na^mm.
L. Gold. Then. pray, be »««» •D of yo«, wuh
this kiss f A7*i« MuncM Low-waim.
I choose him for my husband
PxF. [Apoxon't!
OvekJ
' iMd} Old ed. " Icwb."
^
I.1KE A WOMAK H. I 1
L. Gold. And with tbis parted gold, that tvro
[Break! gold into two pieces, and ghn one to
Mis. Low. Never with chaster lore than this of
L. Gold. And those that have the hearts to come
to the wedding.
They shall be welcome for their former loves.
lExit.
Pep. No, I thank you ; you've choked me already,
Wea. I never suspected mine almanac till now;
I believe he plays cogging' John with me, 1 bought
it at his shop; it may learn (he more knavery by
that.
Mis. Low, Now indeed, gentlemen, 1 can bid you
welcome ;
Before 'twas but a flourish,
Wea. Nay, so my almanac told me there should
be an eclipse, but not visible in our horizon, but
about the western inhabitauts of Mexicana and
California.
Mis. Low. Well, we have no business there, sir.
Wea. Not we have none here, sir ; and so fare
you well.
Mis. Low. You save the house a good labour,
gentlemen. \_Exeuat Weatmerwise, Peppehton, and
Overdose.] — Tlie foo! carries them away in a
voider.' Where be these fellows !
Re-€filer Servant, Pickadill, and Low-watek.
Ser. Sir?
Pick. Here, sir !
' cBggiug] i. e. Ifing, cbealing. The particular alluslan I
' teiiler} 8«e Dole, vol. iv, p. 405.
Seb. What['»] your worBhip['«] plrssure?
Mis. Low. O, ihis is aomclhing like. — Take you
Here are those now more lit to be commandei).
Low, How few women are of thy mit\d ! tlie
tliinks it too much to keep me In subjection for one
day i wbereas some wives would be glad to keep
their husbands in awe all days of ilieir lives, anti
think it tlie beat bargain that e'er they made.
\_Aiide, and cxtt.
Mts. Low. I'll spare no cost for the wedding;
To shew our thankfulness to wit and fortune ;
It shall be BO. — Run straight for one o' the wits.
Pick. How 1 one o' the wits 1 1 care not if I run
on that account : are ibey in town, think you ?
Mis. Low. Whither runnest thou now?
FirK. To an ordinary for one of the nits.
Mis. Low. Why to an ordinary above a tavern i
Pick. No, 1 hold your best wits to be at ordinary ;
nothing so good in a tavern.
Mis. Low. And why, I pray, sir?
Pick. Because those that go to an ordinary' dine
belter for twelve pence than he thai goes to a
taveni for his five sliillings ; and I think thoe
the b
t wits that
1 save four shillings, and fare
Mis. Low. Wliat b
With old sir Oliv
t the longer then.
r lately
LIKE A wouan's. 73
Mis. Low. Is slie come ? — ■ [Mside.
Whatis thai lady?
Sen. A good gentlewoman,
Has been long prisoner with the enemy.
Mis. Low. I know't too well, and joy in her re-
lease.— [_Ati<te.
Go to that house then straight, and in one labour
You may bid them, and entreat home that scholar.
Seb. It shall be done with speed, sir. [Exit.
Pick. I'll along with you, and see what face that
scholar has brought over; a thin pair of parbreak-
ingi 8ca-water green chops, I warrant you. [Exit.
Mis. Low. Since wit has pleasur'd me, I'll plea-
Scholars shall fare the better. O my blessing !
I feel a hand of mercy lift me up
Out of a world of waters, and now sets me
Upon a mountain, where the sun plays most.
To cheer my heart even as it dries my limbs.
What deeps 1 see beneath me, in whose falls
Many a nimble mortal toils,
And scarce can feed' himself! the streams of fortune,
'Gainst which he tugs in vain, still beat him ^ovia,
And will not suffer him — past hand to mouth —
To lift his arm to his posterity's blessing :
I see a careful sweat run in a ring
About his temples, but all will not do;
For, till some happy means relieve his stale,
There he must stick, and bide the wrath of fate.
I see this wrath upon an uphill land ;
0 blest are they can see their falls and stand !
Itc-enier Servant, sheming in Bkveril.
How now ?
4 IHirbrttkiag'] i. e. Tomitiag. — Old ed. " Barbreaking."
^Jted] A frieod conjeetures"fleef'— i.e. float; but not-
witbiianding ibe confusion of metapban, I believe that [be
74 so WIT, KO HELP
SsK. With much cDtrcating, sir, he'a como. [£xif.
Mis. Low. Sir, you're — my brother! joys come
thick togelhcr. — [_A$idt.
Sir, when I see n scholar — pardon me —
I am so taken with afTection' for him,
That I must run into hia arms and clasp him.
f^Embraeing Km.
Bev. Art standi in need, sir, of such cherisheni
I meet loo fe^v : 'twere a brave world for scholars.
If lialfa kingdom were but of your mind, sir;
Let ignoranco and hell confound the rest.
Mis. Low. Lei it suffice,' sweet sir, you cannot
think
How dearly you are welcome.
Bev. May I live
To shew you Bervice for't!
Mis. Low. Your love, your love, sir;
We g;o no higher, nur shall you go lower.
Sir, I am bold to send for you, to request
A kindness from your wit, for some device
To grace our wedding ; it ahull be wortli your pains.
And something more t' express my love to art ;
You shall not receive all in bare embracements.
Bev. Yourlovel thank; bu(,pray, sir, pardon me,
I've a heart says 1 must not grant you that.
Mis. Low. No! what's your reason, sir?
Bev. I'm not at peace
With the lady of this house ; now you'll excuse me ;
Sh'as wrong'd my sister ; and I may not do't.
MiB. Low. The widow knows you not.
Bev. 1 never saw her face to my remembrance :
O that my heart should feel her wrongs so much.
And yet live ignorant of the injurer!
Mis. Low. Let me persuade tliee, since she knows
you not,
' n/ff(i™] Old ei. " nffliction."
* jH^«] Old ci. •• .uffcr."
LIKE A WOMAN S. 7^
Make dear the weather, let not griefs betray you ;
I'll tell her you're a worthy friend of mine,
And BO I tell her true, thou art indeed.
Sir, here she comes.
Re-enter Lady Goldenflgece.
L, Gold. What, are you busy, •
Mis. Low. Nothing less, lady ; her
I
Of noble parts, beside his friendship to me ;
Pray, give him liberal welcome.
L. Gold. He's most welcome.
IS. Low. The virtues of his mind wilt deserve
largely.
L. Gold. Methiaka his outward parts deserve as
much then ;
A proper' gentleman it is. \^Atide.
Mis, Low. Come, worthy sir.
Bev. I follow.
\^Eteunt L, Goldenfleece and Mis. Low-water.
Check thy blood,
For fear it prove loo bold to wrong thy goodness ;
A wise man makes ad'ections but his slaves;
Break 'em in time, let 'em not master thee.
O, 'tis my sister's enemy! think of that:
Some speedy grief fall down upon the fire.
Before it take my heart; let it not rise
'Giainst brotherly nature, judgment, and these
wrongs.
Make clear the weather 1°
O who could look upon her face in storms !
Yet pains may work it out; griefs do but strive
To kill this spark, I'll keep it still alive. \_Eiit.
' pn^er"] \. e. hiindsDinG.
" Mait cltur the unalhir] Tlie words of miatreaa LoW'water
to Beveril : lee stioTe.
KD Wll, HO BELP
ACT III.' SCENE I.
Btfore Lady Goloenfleece's houie.
Enter Wbatheuwise, Peppertok, Ovebdoke, and
SiB Gilbert Laubstoke.
Wea. Faith, sir Gilbert, forget and forgive ;
there's all our hands to a new bargain offriend-
Pep. Ay, and all our hearts to boot, sir Gilbert.
Wea. Why, la, you, there's but four suitors left
on's in all the world, and the fifth has the widow;
if we should not be kind to one another, and so
i'faiih, I would we were all raked up in
e hole
r other
SiK G. Lamb. Pardon me, gentlemen; I cannot
but remember
Your late disgraceful words before the widow,
In time of my oppression.
Wea. Pooh, Saturn reigned then, a melancholy,
grumbling planet ; he was in ihe third house of
privy enemies, and would have bewrayed" all our
plots ; beside, there was a 6ery conjunction in the
Dragon's tail,'' that spoiled all that e'er we went
Sir G. Laub. Dragon or devil, somewhat 'twas,
Wea.
Why,
I tell you, si
Gilbert, we were
all
out of 0
n't; I was so
mad at that time
iiy-
self, I could h
ve wished a
hind quarter of
my
liuil ou
of yo
ir belly again
, whereas now I c
I am not rcapon«ible (a» in some olher of Mid-
as) for ihe divUioQ of ihu pis; inlo acli ; which
:cuuDt of lliu camparalive thonaeis of the pre-
not if yoii had eat tail and all ; I am no niggard in
the nay of friendship ; I was ever yet at full moon
in good fellowship; and so you shall fiod, if you
look into the almanac of my true nature,
SiK G. La«b. Well, all's forgiven for once ; hands
a-pace, gentlemen.
Wea, Ye shall have two of mine to do you a
kindness ; yet, when they're both abroad, who shall
look to th' house here?
[Giving hit hands to Sir G. Laubstone.
Over I ^"^^ ""^^ ^ "^™ f'"'*"''^'''?' *"" * friend.
{^Giving their hands to Sir G, Lambstone.
SirG.Lamb. But upon this condition, gentlemen,
You shall hear now a thing worth your revenge.
Wea. And" you doubt that.
You shall have mine beforehand, I've one
I never go without a black oath about me.
SieG.Lamb. I know the least touch of a spur
in this
Will now put your desires to a false gallop,
By all means slanderous in every place,
And in all companies, to disgrace the widow ;
No matter in what rank, so it be spiteful
And worthy your revenges : so now I ;
It shall be all my study, care, and pains ;
And we can lose no labour ; all her foes
Will make such use on't, that they'll snatch it from
Faster than we can forge it, though n-e keep
Four tongues at work upon't, and never cease.
Then for th' indiflerent world, faith, they are apter
To bid a slander* welcome than a truth.
.ady;
• AHd-\
r.lA!
rehend, ■»
We have the odds of our side: this in time
May grow so general, as disgrace will spread.
That wild dissension may divide the bed.
J',;;JExccllen.l
Over. A pure revenge! 1 see no dregi in't.
Sir G. Lamb. Let each man look to his part now,
and not feed
Upon one dish all four on's, like plain maltmen ;
For at ihis feast we must have several kickshaws
And delicate-msde dishes, that ihe world
May see it is a banquet finely fumish'd.
Wba. Why, then, let me alone for one of your
kickshaws,
I've thought on that already.
Sir G. L\MB. I'riihee, how, sir?
W£A. Marry, sir, I'll give it out abroad that I
have lain with the widow myself, as 'tis the fashion
of many a gallant to disgrace his new mistress
when he cannot have his will of her, and lie with
her name in every tavern, though he ne'er came
within a yard of her person ; sn I, being a gentle-
man, may say as much in that kind as a gallant; I
am as free by my frither's copy.
SiH G. Lamb. This will do excellent, sir.
Wea. And, moreover, I'll give the world thus
much to understand beside, that if I had not lain
with the widow in the wane of the moon, at one of
my Seven Stars' houses, when Venus was about
business of her own, and could give no attendance,
she had been brouj^ht a-bcd with two roaring boys
hy this time; and the Gemini 1)eing infants, I'd
have made away with them like a step-mother, and
put mine own boys in their places.
SirG. Lau. Why, this is beyond talk; you out-
run your master.
IKE A VbitKV's. 70
Enter PicKADiLL.
Pick. Whoop! draw home next time; here aJe*
all the old shooters that have lost the ganie at
pricks ! What a fair mark had sir Gilbert on't, if
he had shot home before the last arrow came in I
mcthinks these shew to me now, far all the world,
like so many lousy beggars turned out of my lady's
barn, and have ne'er a hole to put their heads in.
Wea. Mass, here's her ladyship's ass ; he tells
us any thing.
Sir G. Lamb. Ho, Pickadill !
Pick. What, sir Gilbert Lambstone !
Gentlemen, outlaws all, how do you do ?
Sir G. Lamb. How ! what dost call us ! how goes
the world at home, lad ?
What strange news ?
Pick. This is the state of prodigals as right as
can be ; when they have spent all their means od
; feasts, they're glad to scrape to a serving-
flfora
;al's
I
Ho you that whilom,* like four prodigal rivals.
Could goose or capon, crane or woodcock choose,
Now're glad to make up a poor meal with news ;
A lamentable hearing 1
Wea. He's in passions'
Up to the eyebrows for us.
Pick. O master Weatherwise, I blame none but
You're a gentlen
1 deeply r
1 Pond's Aim
■ whilirm'] i. c. once, formerly. ' pauianl i. e. grief.
■ FeniTi Jliaanac] The falJowing i« the title uf the eartieal
Pond'i Almanac I have met «i(b. — " PonHi. 1607. A Prt-
lldtnt /or PrcgRBIIicalori. A twin Altaanarke fat llih preirnt
geare of our Lord God M.DCf'lI. Bting the third nfUr Ltafa
80 KO WIT, no HBLF
Methink« yoa should not b« inch m dullotr frllow ;
yV< knew [hit day. the twelfUi ot iaae, would
WheD ihe bud enicn inio (he Crab'* rooio,
And all your hopes would go aside, aaide.
WsA. The fool aays true, i'fajth,
knew 'twould come all to ifaia pais ; I'll thew*i jou
preseatly. [ Taktt out almanac.
Pick. If you hod ipai'd but four of your Twelve
You might have gone to a tavern and msde merry
with 'em.
Wea. Has the best moral meaning of an sss that
e'er I beard speak with ton^tue, — I..ook you here,
gentlemen [read* alnuiiuic']. Fifth Jay,' neither JUk
luirJUth.
Pick. No, nor good red herring, and* you look
again.
Wea. [r«M(»] Sixth day, prkily pretenled.
Pick. Marry, faugli I
Wea. [readt] Seventh day, ihnmk in the iteltmg.
Pick. Nay, so will the best ware bought for love
or money.
Wea. [rcadt'j The eiffhih day, over head and eart.
Pick. By my faith, lie come[B] home in a sweet
pickle then!
Wea. [rcadt] The ninth day, scarce iouhH at heart.
Pick. What a pox ailed it 7
Wea. [readi] Tlie tenth day, a courtier's teeleome.
Pick. That's a cup of beer, and" you can gel JL
gfare. Calculatid for thi LalUudc nnJ Mrridian of Iht ^undent
,hin tMmi ^ Eutx lallfd Chilme./ard ,■ .Ind pfnerallg for aU
gnat Britaita, atnpl^d loilk ntw nddilim, Bg Edwaril Paid .-
prartielmitr in lie MalhmuUielctf ^ Pkiiick. ImprinUd Hi Ion-
am for (»f Cempans of Slaliontri."
• Fifili daf, iic] Compare vol. iti. p. £37, and p. ISofthU
volume. ■ oikf] i.e. if.
Wea. [reads] The eleventh day, stone* against the
Pick. Pox of an ass ! be might have thrown 'em
better.
WnA. Now the tweljlh day, gentlemen, that was
our day ; [Reads.
Past all Tedeviptiiin.
Pick. Then the devil go witb't!
Wea. Now you aee plainly, gentlemen, how we're
us'd;
The calendar will not lie for no man's pleasure.
Sir G. Lamb. Push," you're too confident in al-
Pep. Faith, so said we.
SiH G. Lamb. They're mere delusions.
Wea. How!
Yon see how knavishly they happen, sir.
Sir G. Lamb. Ay, that's because they're foolishly
believ'd,^ sir.
Wea, Well, take your courses, gentlemen, with-
out 'em, and see what will come on't: you may
wander like masterless men, there's ne'er a planet
will care a halfpenny for you ; if they look after
you, I'll be hanged, when you acorn to bestow two-
peace to look alWr them.
Sib G. Laub. Howl a device at the wedding,
Bayest thou ?
Pick. Why, have none of you heard of that yet?
Sir G. Lahb. 'Tis the Rrst news, i faith, lad.
Pick. O, there's a brave travelling scholar en-
tertained into the house a' purpose, one that has
been all the world over, and some part of Jeru-
■alem; has his chamber, his diet, and three candles"
allowed him after supper.
aiiJifj] Qy. ■■
Wba. By my faiih, )ie need not complain for
victuals tlicn, wliale'er he he.
Pick. He lie* in one of the best chambers i' ib'
house, bravely mutteil ; and to warm his nits aj
much, a cup of sack and an aqtia pita' bottle stand'
just at his elbow.
Wea. He's shrewdly hurt, by roy faith; if he
catch an ague uf that fashion, I'll be hanged.
Pick. He'll come abroad anon.
Sir G.Lamb. Art aureon't?
Pick. Why, he ne'er stays a quarter of an hour
ID the house together.
.Sib G. Lamb, No 1 how can he study then 7
Pick. Faugh, best of all ; he talks as he goes, and
writes as he runs; besides, you know 'tis death to
a traveller to stand long in one place.
Sir(i. Lahb. It may hit right, boys! — Honest
Pickadill,
Thou wast wont lo love me.
Pick. I'd good cause, air, then.
Sir G. Laud. Thou shall have the same still;
take that. [Giving monet/.
Pick. Will you believe me now? I ne'er loved
you better in my life than I do at this present.
SiaG. Lams. Tell me now truly; who are the
presenters ?
What parsons^ are employ'd i
Pick. Parsons ? not any, a
not be at the charge ; she k
Welsh vicar.
Sir G. Lamb. Prithee, I
speakers 1
Pick. Troth, I ki
my mistress will
none but an old
who be the
i but those that open
' ofua vitir] See mile, vol. iii. p. 239.
' iland] Uld ed. " itancb."
■ ^arion>] So old ed. : Gompu'G vol. iii, p. 77i ^"i note.
their mouths. Here he comes no
w himself, you
may ask him,
Enter BEVEnit.
Wea. Is this he? by my failh.
ne may pick a
gentleman out of his calvea and a s
cholar out on's
cheeks; one may see hy hia looks
what's in him :
I warrant you there has ne'er a new
alinaDBC come
out these dozeo years, but ho has
studied it over
and over.
\_Aside.
Sib G. Lamb. Do not reveal us n
IV.
Pick. Because you shall be sure
on't, vou have
given me a ninepence here, and I'll give you the
SirG. Lamb. Well said. {Exit Pick a dill.]— Now
the fool's pleas'd, we may be bold,
Bev. Love is as great an enemy to wit
As ignorance to art ; I find my powers
So much employ'd in business of my heart.
That all the time's too little to despatch
Aifaira within me. Fortune, too remiss,
I suffer for thy slowness : had I come
Before a vow had chain'd their souls together.
There might have been some hope, though ne'er so
little;
Now there's no spark at all, nor e'er can be,
But dreadful ones struck from adultery ;
And if my lust were smolher'd with her will,
O, who could wrong a gentleman so kind,
A stranger made up with a brother's mind! \_Aiidt.
SiB G.Lamb, Peace, peace, enough ; let me alone
to manage it. —
A quick invention, and a happy one.
Reward your study, sir !
Bev. Gentlemen, I thank you.
<■ iUp\ See n«ic, vol. ii. p. 417.
4
SiH G.Lamb. We undersiand your wits are in
employment, sir.
In Iionour of this wedding,
Bev. Sir, Ihi- gentleman
To whom that worthy lady ii bctroth'd
Voucbsares t' accept the power of my good will
in't.
SiK G.Lamb. I pray, resolve' us then, sir — fox
That loTe and honour her —
Whether your number be yet full, or no.
Of those which you make choice of for presenters !
Bev. First, 'tis so bri^f, because the time is so,
We shall not trouble many ; and for those
We shall employ, the house will yield in servanli.
SisG. Laub. Nay, then, under your leave and
favour, air.
Since all your pains will be bo weakly grac'd.
And, wanting due performance, lose their lustre.
Here are four of us gentlemen, her friends,
Both lovers of her honour and your art.
That would be glad so to express ourselves.
And think our service well and worthily plac'd.
Bev. My thanks do me no grace for this lai^e
kindness ;
You make my labours proud of such presenters.
Sir G. Lamb. She shall not think, sir, she's so ill
belov'd,
But friends can quickly make that number perfect.
Bev. She's bound t' acknowledge it.
Sir G. Lamb. Only thus much, sir,
Which will amaze her most ; I'd have't so earriecl,
As you can do't, that neither she nor none
Should know what friends we were till all were
' rutin] See nou, p. S2.
Wea. Ay, that would make ttie sport!
Bcv. Ilikeit well, sir:
My hand and faith amongst you, geatlemen,
It shall be so diapos'd of.
Sia G.Lamb. We're the men then.
B£V. Then look you, gentlemen; the device is
NakeJ, and plain, because the time's so short,
And gives no freedom lo a wealthier sport ;
Tis only, gentlemen, the four elements
In liveliest forma. Earth, Water, Air, and Fire.
Wea. Mass, and here's four of us too.
Bey. It fits well, sir:
This the effect, — thai whereas all those four
Maintain a natural opposition
And untrue'd war ibe one against the other.
To shame their ancient envitis, tlicy should see
How well in two breasts all these do agree.
Wea. That's in the bride and bridegroom ; 1 inn
quick, sir.
Sir G. Lamb. In faith, it's pretty, sir ; I approve
it well.
Bev. But see how soon my happiness and yonr
kindness
Are' crosl together!
Sir G. Laub. Crost 7 1 hope not so, sir.
Bev. I can employ but two of you.
Pbp. How comes that, sir ?
Bbv. Air and the Fire should be by tne[n] pre-
sented.
But the two other in the forms of women.
Wea. Nay, then, we're gone again ; I think these
Were made U
luble u
n all shapes.
Sn G. Lams- TmA, mx, -««• «■■!
BsT. \H, «kM «• «x 1 i k av As
better
Sm or«« vnn, «kM A* «» «;«>^ '^b;
BatWafcr iilj ^wMfc,» ii
lua btt : W «w «M||te » W B ^ MM. «ln
1m cot hi* mfc «i* cUi b«AM W -M ^nkd.
Wba. Bm ■•■ I CMC M jmm%, ^d* ««■ m w
ibat.w: 1 «« M i««M *<B Wc Fv< Ml Tnr
■bouM rtiM>g» ilMfcs mA gB^Hk.
BtT. K«w ■>•«« 7«« Am, «ir !
be aBMn, h<cMwi Rw ■ w^—rfy to— m Whaft
Bev. So, ur; ;<hi Hgac «■&
Wka. Nay, SMn, air; mmk ■> kvk is M «
little crciin, ao viU a bh^ if h> W ■■> kcfi •■£;
wRtcr nil) nntlenMC, m «i> as Mbcvo: ■■tn
will rhti Bnil flow, so mOI a gmiiamm ; «am «a
■carch any plan, aad ao wiU a cManUa^ aa IbmIj
he ilid nt my Scvm S«an Car a jOMg «taA that
WD* itolci ; water nil) qnmcb fin. aad w wiB Wh
till" barlier ; ergv, ki Wale* "Mr a eodpitce-poou.
Iluv. I'nilh, iieittlenwn. 1 like imu cooapoa; kcIL
Wk*. Ifft'i irtt "holl ilitpuie <ritli me at (be (bH
o' llio ii)oon !
Hkv. No,»iri and* youbt wiB-gionwB»ofyo«T
tuloni, I'll put you to't once noce.
W»A. I'm for you, »ir. a* long as ibe aaooB kcepB
in ihii nu«rter. ^
Dev. Well, liow answer you this tbenT 8«rth and
I nlrtly] I. e, ■onipulowly. » "J] i.*.il
i
r
■ water are both 1
I
LIKE A WOUA^f B.
both bearers, therefore tbey should be
Wea. Why, so are porters and pedlars, and yet
they are known to be inen.
Bev. I'll give you over in time, sir ; I sliall re-
pent the beatowing on't else.
Wea. Ifl, that have proceeded' in five-and-twenty
such books of astronomy, should not be able lo put
down a scholar now in one thousand six hundred
thirty and eight, the dominical letter being G, I
Blood for a goose.
Sir G. Lajib. Then this will satisfy you ; though
that be a woman,
Oceanus the sea, that's chief of waters.
He wears the form of a man, and so may you.
Bev. Now 1 bear reason, and I may consent.
Sir G.Lamb. And so, though earth challenge a
feminine face.
The matter of which earth consists, that's dust.
The general soul of earth is of both kinds.
Bev, Fit yourselves, gentlemen, I've enough for
me;
Earth, Water, Air, and Fire, part 'em amongst you.
Wra. Let me play Air," I was my father's eldest
BOD.
Bev. Ay, but this Air never possess'd the lands.
Wea. I'm but disposed to jest with you, sir ; 'tis
the same my almanac speaks on, is't not ?
Bev. That 'tis, sir.
Wea. Then leave it to my discretion, to fit both
the part and the person.
Bev. You shall have your desire, air.
Sir G. Lamb. We'll agree
^ proretded'] A UDivertity lenn: compare vol. iv. p. 6S, and
' Jir] Old ed. " fair."
88 HO WIT. XO BBLP
Without your trouble now, sir; we're not factions.
Or CDvy one another for best parta,
Like quarrelling actors that have passionate fits;
We submit always to the writer's wits.
Bev. He that commenilB you may do'i liberally.
For you deserve as much as praise can shew.
Sin G. LiMR. We'll send lo you privately.
Bet. I'll despatch you.
SiK G. Lamb. We'll poison your device.
[j^sidr, and cmI.
Pep. She must have pleasures,
Shows, and conceits, and we diigracefVil doom.
{_A*ide, and eiil.
Wea. We'll make your Elements come limping
home. 'iAnde, and eiil,
Bev. How happy am I in this unlook'd-for grace.
This voluntary kindness, from these gentlemen !
Enter behind MlSTKCas Low-water and Low-wjter,
holh duguited a* before.
'Twill set olTall my labours far more pleasing
Before the widow, whom my heart calls mistress.
But my tongue dares not second it.
Low. How say you now, Kate f
Mis. Low. I like this music well. sir.
Bet. O unfortunate !
Yet though a tree be guarded from my touch.
There's none C3n hinder me to love the fruii.
Mis. Ijow. Nay, now we know your mind, brother,
well proTide for you.
{Exeunt Mistress Low-water and I.ow-WATBa.
Bet. O were it hut as free as late times knew it,
I would deserve, if all life's wealth could do it !
lExit.
ACT IV. SCENE I.
A room in Sm Olivbk Twilight's Iiovk.
Enter Sir Oiiver Twilight, Laov Twilight, Sun-
set. Sandfielp, Dutch Merchant, Philip Twi-
light, Servants, and Savoubwit aloof off."
SiitO. Twi. O my revifiug joy! thy qmckenin^
ptegence
Makes tlie sad night of threescore and ten years
Sit like a yoiilliful spring upon my blood :
1 cannot make thy welcome rich enough
With all the wealth of words .'
L. Twi. It is expresi sir.
With more than can be eqiiatl'd ; the ill store
g only on my aide, my thanks are poor.
Sib O. Twi. Blest be the
fore
of his I
ml
That did redeem thy life, may it return
Upon his fortunes double ! that worthy gentleman,
Kind master Beveril ! shower upon him, heaven,
Some unexpected happiness to requite him
For that my joy" unlook'd for ! O, more kind,
And juster far, is a mere stranger's goodness
"Than the sophistic faith of natural sons !
Here's one coald juggle with me, take up the ran-
He and his loose companion
Sav, Say you me so, sir ?
111 eat hard eggs for that trick. IMidv.
Sir O, Twi. Spend the money.
And bring me home false news and empty pockets '.
,W»/] Co
ay] Old ed.
Compare vols, i, p. 427; iiL p. 40, and nolei
L. T«i. Fm. Ik ■* aov yM haaw a* jM pn
L. T«i. Sm amm. wk, ym ma^ h^ mv fefaa
Br« it cmAuMi tiA Wa» Amt « ycior.
Tfctgww>riwMwi«f JAatiMUi mrtmJt
For bene mMvW fe aC I m i>i^i 4n^
Phu. On M>T UA ■•« W nfaa MB &««H. nr 1
Ii*! wortltjr i» W D
Sat. No, bj b^ omK at aM.
CV«A.
Sim0.1Vi. Wdt dr, I — « l f yaa'w fcw
bJf-«m ^ j«M » the ■
And ■ ^
8av. Now'railbJf-wm^jmMtheginlfe,
But the •nmt |Mn's >ihi«i. [•'Mir.
Sm O. Twi. Marry, I ftar M^ sir,
Tl)i> wrather h ton i' " • !>■-
I.. T«
ITyou place oonfidracc ia what I't* toM joa.
BinO. Twi. Nay, 'tis clear sky oa that side;
wotili) 'iwere to
All over hit obedience! I see that.
And BO d(»e» ihia good f^nilenuin
I.. Twi. Do yon. sir?
8iH U. Twi. That makea his honesty dovbtfal.
L. Twi. I pray, speak, sir ;
The truth ofyour last kindness makes me bold with
D. Mer. The knight, your husband, madam, can
best speak ;
He ttueliest can shew griefs whose heart they break.
L. Twi. I'm Borry yet for more; pray, let me
That I may help to chide him, though 'twould grieve
Sir O. Twi, Why then prepare for't ; you came
In tbe best time to do't you could pick otit :
Not only spent my money, but, to blind me.
He and his wicked instrument — -
Sav. Now he fiddles me ! [Aiide.
Sir O. Twi. Brings home a minion here, by great
chance known ;
Told me she was his sister ; she proves none.
L. Twi. This was unkindly done, sir ; now I'm
My good opinion lost itself upon you ;
You are not the same son I left behind me.
More grace took him. — O, let me end in time,
For fear I should forget myself, and chide him ! —
Where is [s]be, sir ? though he beguil'd your eyes,
He cannot deceive mine, we're now loo hard for
For since out first unfortunate separation
I've often seen the girl — would that were true! —
[Atide.
By many a happy accident, many a one.
But never durst acknowledge her for mine own,
And therein stood my joys distress'd again.
Sir O, Twi, You rehearse miseries, wife. — Call
the maid down. lExit Servant.
t
Sav. Sh'as been too oRen down to be now cilV
She'll lie down shortly, and trail souicbodj' up.
Inside.
L. Twi. lie's now to deal with one, air, that
knows truth ;
He must be sbani'd or quit, there's no mean saTes
SiE O. Twi. I hear her come.
L. Twi. [oiide to Vuil.'} You see how hard 'tis
To redeem good opinion, being once gone;
Be careful then, and keep it when 'tis won.
Now Bee me take a poison with great joy.
Which, but for ihy sake, 1 should swoon to touch.
Enter Grace.
Gkaci. What new affliction? am I set lo sale
For any one that bids most shame for me ? [^n'rfe.
Sim O. Twi. Look you? do you see what stuff"
they've brought me home here ?
L. Twi. O bless her, eternal powers ! my life, my
comforts,
My nine yenrt' grief, but everlasting joy now !
Thrice welcome to my heart! [embracing Grace]
'til she indeed.
Sib 0. Twi. What, \a hi
Phil. I'm unlit to carry a ransom !
Sav. [ttiitk lo Gbace, trho kneeW] Down on yout
knees, to save your belly harmless;
Ask blessing, though you never mean to use it.
But give't awny presently to a beggar-wench.
Phil. My faith is blcmiah'd, I'm no man of trust,
»ilh a mother's
dl'd^^
L. Twi. [raiting Grace] Rise
blessing I
LIKE A woman's. 93
Sav. All this while
Sh'as rise with a son's. [Jside.
Sir O. Twi. But aoft ye, soft ye. wife !
I pray, take heed you place your blessing right
This honest Dutchman here told me he aaw her
Ac Antwerp in an inn.
L. Twi. True, she was so, sir.
D. Meo. Sir, 'tis my quality, what I speak once,
I affiriM ever; in that inn I saw her;
That lets" her not to be your daughter now.
Sib O. Twi. O sir, is'l come lo that !
Sun. Here's joys ne'er dreamt on I
Sir O. Twi. O master Sunset, 1 am at the rising
Of my refulgent happiness ! — Now, son Sandfield,
Once more and ever !
Sahd. I am proud on't, sir.
Sir O. Twi. Pardon me, boy ; I've wrong'd thy
faith too much.
Sat. Now may I leave my shell, and peep my
head forth. [/f«tr/e, and advanciTig.
Sir O. Twi. Where is this Savourwit, that honest
whorson,
That I may take my curs
ders?
Sav. O, sir, I feel you
Your curse is ten stone w
SihO.Twi. Come, tht
Sav. You ^hall still find
from his knave's sboul-
t my very blade here !
ighl, and a pound over.
I'rt a wiity varlet and a
e a poor, faithful fel-
If you've another ransom to send over,
Or daughter to find out.
Sir O. Twi. Ml do thee right, boy ;
KO WIT, NO HELP
I ne'er yet knew t)iee but speak honest English;
Marry, in Dutch 1 found thee a knave lately.
. That was lo hold you but in play a little.
Till farther truths came o
You shall ne'er find m
tongue,
I've more grace in me ; I
When I take such
, and I strong ;
a knave in mine own
out of England still
that shews modesty,
Sir O. Twi. Any thing full of wit and void of
; so was that now.
I c]uit,' I find myself the
I give thee pardoi
Sav. Faith, now I'm
nimbler
To serve you so again, and my will's good ;
Like one that lately shook off his old irons,
And cuts a purse at bench to deserve new ones.
SiK O. Twi. Since it holds all the way so for-
tunate still.
And strikes so even with my first belief,
This is the gentleman, wife, young master Sandfield
here,
A man of worthy parts, beside his lands.
Whom 1 make choice of for my daughter's bed,
Sav. But he'll make choice there of another bed-
fellow, [^jirfe.
L. Twi. I wish 'em both the happiness of love,
SiaO.Twi. 'Twas spoke like a good lady! And**
your memory
Can reach it, wife — but 'tis ao long ago too —
Old master Sunset he had a young daughter
When you unluckily left England s
And much about the age of our girl tberfit
For both were nurs'd together.
L.Twi. -Tis BO fresh
In my remembrance, now you've waken'd it,
As if twelve years were but a twelve hours' dream.
Sm O. Twi, That girl is now a proper' gentle-
J
As fin
With
Son
a body, wife
n indenture c
0 say not so
as e'er wa
t in farthi
, air Olive
(ig steaks.
; you shall pardon
Ifoith, sir' you'-re to
SmO. Twi. Sings
Touches an instrume
Sun. 'Tis your ow
blame.
dances, play a,
nt with a motherly grace,
n daughter that you mean that
by.
Sav. There's open Dutch indeed, and' he could
take it- \_Aiide.
Sir O. Twi. This wench, under your leave
Sen. You have my love in't.
Sir O. Twi. Is my son's wife that shall be.
Sav. Thus, I'd hold wiib't.
Is your son's wife that should be master SandReld's.
[Atide.
L. Twi. I come in happy time to a feast of mar-
riages.
SiB O. Twi, And now you put's i' the mind, the
hour draws on
At the new-married widow's, there we're look'd
for;
There will be entertainments, sports, and banquets.
There these young lovers shall clap hands together;
The seed of one feast shall bring forth another.
Sun. Well said, sir Oliver!
SikO. Twi. You're a Etranger, sir :
Your welcome will be best.
D. Meu. Good sir. excuse me.
Sir O. Twi. You sliall along, faith ;
[^Extant all txeept Laut TtriLicuT, Gbacc,
Philip TnlLiottT, and SAVOirnwiT.
Phil. O, mother, these new joja, (hat set' my
soul up —
Which bad no means, nor any hope of any —
Have brought me now so far in debt to you,
I know not which way to begin to thank you ;
I am so lost in all, I cannot guess
Which of the two my service most constrains.
Your last kind goodness, or your first dear pains.
L.Twi. Love is a mother's duty to a son,
Ab a son's duty is both love and Tear.
Sav. 1 owe you a poor life, madam, that's all ;
Pray, call for't when you please, it shall be ready
I must I
J BACK,
forv
L.T
m. 'Make m
iich on
1, sir, till then.
Sav.
If butier'd s
aek w
11.
L.T
SI. Methink
then
ore I look upon h
he mo
re thy sister
s face
runs in my mind.
Phil
Belike she
s Bom
ewhat like her; it
he better, m
adam.
I..T
til. Was Antwerp,
say you, the firs
you found her
[Atide.
place
Phil. Yes, madam : why do yon ask t
L. Twi. Whose daughter were you 1
Grace. I know not rightly whose, to speak truth,
madam.
Sav. The mother of her was a good twigger the
whilst. \Atuie.
■»d ii:
Lt tine but aae " Hsi."
LIKE A WOMAN 5.
97
L, Twi. No? wiih whom were youbrought up then 1
Grace. With those, madam,
To whom, I've often heard, the enemy sold me.
L. Twi. Whafs that?
Grace. Too often have I heard this piteous story.
Of a distressed mother 1 had once.
Whose comfortahle sight 1 lost at sea ;
But then the years of childhood took from me
Both the remembrance of her and the sorrows.
L. Twi, 0, ! begin to feel her in my blood !
My heart leaps to be at her. [Atidc.] — What was
that mother?
Gkace. Some said, an English lady; but I know tiot.
, What's thy name ?
L.Tw
Grace
L.Tw
For tho
, May it be so in heaven,
art mine on earth ! welcome, dear child,
Unto thy father's house, thy mother's arms,
After thy foreign sorrows! [_Embracing Gracu.
Sav. Twill prove gallant ! [Mide.
L.Tw
the.
What
joy n
t-work [ I bring
Will make the n
t shew nothing, 'tis so glorioi
: not possible, madam, that n
, Why, 'tif
Should take a greater height than mine aspires.
L.Twi, No? now you shall confess it: this shal
quit thee
From all fears present, or hereafter doubts,
About this business.
Phil. Give me that, sweet mother!
L. Twi. Here, lake her then, and set thine arm
There needs no 'fection,'
■ '/ecttiin] So old ed. — a
indeed thy s:
olaffKlim
HO HELP ^^^1
Phil. My siiter ! \
Sav. Cuds me, I feel the raior ! [Atitk. \
L.Twi. Why, how now, ion? how comei a change
Phil. 0, I begecch you, mother, wound me any
But where you pointed last ! that's present death ;
Devise some other miaerHble torment,
Though ne'er so pitiless, and I'll run and meet it ;
Some nay more merciful let your goodness think on,
May steal away my joys, but save my soul :
I'll willingly restore back every one,
Upon that mild condition; any thing
But what you spake last will be comfortable.
L.Twi. You're troubled with strange fits in Eng-
land here ;
Your first suit to me did entreat mc hardly
To say 'twas she, to have old" wrath appeas'd ;
And now 'tis known your sister, you're not pleas'd :
How should I shew myself?
Phil. Say 'tis not she.
L.Twi. Shall I deny my daughter?
Phil. O, you kill me.
Beyond all tortures !
L. Twi. Why do you deal thus with me?
Phil. She is my wife. I married her at Antwerp ; ,
I've known the way unto her bed these three
months.
Sav. And that's too much by twelve weeks for ■
sister. \_A,ide.
plain!
Phil. O mother, if you love ray peace for ever,
Examine her again, find me not guilty ! J
' old} See note, vol. ii, p. 638. J
1 1
LIKE A WOMAN 9. 99
L, Twi. 'Tis now too late, her words make that
Pmi.. Her wards ? shall bare words overthrow a
A body is not cast awuy so lightly.
How can you know 'tis she — lei sense decide it —
She then bo young, and both so long divided?
L. TwT. She tells me the sad story.
Phil. Does that throw me ?
Many a distress may have the face of yours,
That ne'er was kin to you.
L, Twi. But, however, sir,
PuiL. Here's the witness.
And all the wealth I had with her, this ring.
That join'd our hearts together. [Gioes ring.
t. Twi. O, too clear now !
Thou'st broiighi in evidence to o'erthrow thyself;
Had no one word been spoke, only this shewn,
'T'ad been enough to approv'd' her for mine own;
See here, two letters that begun ray name
Before I knew thy father: this I gave her.
And, as a jewel, fasten'd lo her ear.
Grace. Pardon me, mother, that you find it stray ;
J kept it till I gave my heart away.
Phil. O, to what mountain shall 1 take my flight,
To hide the monster of my sin from sight!
Sav. I'll to Wales presently, there's the best hills
To hide a poor knave in, [jftide.
L, Twi. O heap not desperation upon guilt !
Repent yet, and all's sav'd ; 'twas but hard chance :
Amongst all sins, heaven pities ignorance.
She's still the first that has her pardon sign'd;
All sins else see their faults, she's ooly blind :
' l9 upprov'd] i. «. lo have proved.
I
100 XO WIT, KO HELP
Go 10 tliy chamber, pra^, leave off, And itia ;
One liour's repentance cures a (welvemonth's ain.
Gkace. O my distreased busband, my dear bro-
ther ! [Exeunt Ladt Twilight atid Gracs.
Phil. O Savournit, never came sorrow yet
To mankind like it ! I'm so far distress 'd,
IVe no lime left to give toy heart attendance,
Too little all to wait upon my soul.
Before this tempest came, how well I stood,
Full in the beams of blessedness and joy !
The memory of man could never say
So black a storm fell in ao bright a day.
I am that man that even life surfeits of;
Or, if lo live, unworthy to be seen
By the [most] savage eye-sight : give'a thy hand ;
Commend me to thy prayers.
Sav. Next time I say 'em. [Atide.
Phil. Farewell, my honest breasl, that crsv'st no
Than possible kindness! that I've found thee large
And I must ask no more ; there wit must stay,
It cannot pass where fate stops up the way :
Joy thrive with thee ! I'll never see tliee more.
IGmng.
Sav, What's that, sir ? pray, come back, and bring
those words with you.
You shall not carry 'em so out of my company :
There's no last refuge when your father knows it ;
There's no such need on't yet ; stay but till then,
And take one with you that will imitate you
In all the desperate on-sets man dare think on :
Were it to challenge all tlic wolves in Fmnco
To meet at one set battle, I'd be your half in'i;
All beasts of venom, — what you had a mind to,
Your part should be took still : for such a day
I
iiKE A woman's. 101
Let's keep ourselvea in heart, then am I for you.
' ■ ■ to beat off all suspicion,
Let's to the bride-house too; here's my petition.
Phil. Thou hasl a learning art when all hopes
%!
Let one night waste, there's lime enough left to die.
Sav. a minute's aa good as a thousand year, sir,
To pink a man'a heart like a summer-suit.
lExeunt.
SCENE 11.
n tn Ladv Golden fleece's h
SecfTal Sercantt discovered placing things i
and PicKADiLL looking on.
Pice. Bestir your bones nimbly, yi
beef- buttocked knaves ; what a nui
binds do I keep company withal !
flesh - colour velvet cushi
>u ponderous
iber of lazy
pease-porridge-tawny-s
upon revels !
First Ser. You can
because yot
■t your
my lady's
1 bum? You attendants
f irate and domineer well,
Bge[d] place ; but I'd fain
Pick. O base bone-pickers, I set my hand to't !
when did you e'er see a gentleman set his hand to
any thing, unless it were to a sheep-skin, and re-
ceive a hundred pound for his pains 1
"Sec. Ser. And afterward lie in the Counter for
his pleasure.
Pick. Why, true, sir. 'tis for his pleasure indeed ;
for, spite of all their teeths, be may lie i' th' Hole'
when he list.
* i7(i/>] See note, vol. i. p. 3S2.
lOS KO WIT, KO HELP
FiKST Ser. Marry, and should for me.
Pick. Ay, thou nouldst make as good k biwi] as
the beat jailor of ihcm all ; I know that.
FinsT Ser, How, fool !
Pick. Hark ! I miiai call you knave within ; 'tia
but slaying somewhat the longer for't. [BMitnt.
Loud music. Enter, arm in arm, L%dt Goldek-
tLF.ECE richly dreited, and Mistbrss Low-watik
richly attired at a man; after them Sir Oliver
TwiLimiT, SuNBET, and Dutch Merchant; ajier
them Lad* Twilioht, Grace, and Jane ; afier
them Philip Twilioht, Sandeield, Savourwit.
and Low-WATEft, diiguited at before.
Mis. Low. This fair Rsaembly is moat freely wel-
SiR O. Twi., ^-c." Thanks to yoo, good sir.
L. Gold. Come, my long-wieli'd-for madam.
You and this worthy BtTangcr take best welcome ;
Your freeilom is a aecond feast to mc.
Mis. Low. How ia't with my brother?
Low. The fit holds him still,
Nay, love's more violent.
Mis. Low. 'Las, poor gentleman!
I would he had my office without money!
If he should ofTer any, I'd refuse it.
Low, I have the letter ready ;
He's worthy of a place knona* how to use it.
Mis. Low. That's well said.—
Come, ladit's — gentlemen — sir Oliver;
Good, seat yourselves: shall we be found unrcadieat?
IThey tit.
What is yon gentleman with the funeral-face there?
Methinka that look does ill become a bride-house.
SmO. Twi. Wlio does your worsbip mean, sir?
my son Philip?
I'm sure he hail ne'er ]caa reason to be sad. —
Why srcTou sad, son Philip?
Phil. How, sir, sad 7
¥oi> shall not find it so, sir.
Sav. Take lieed he do not, then. You must be-
nare hon you carry your face in this company ; as
far as I can see, that young bridegroom has hawk's
eyes, he'll go nigh to spell sister in your face ; if
your nose were but croaked enough to serve for
an S, he'd find an eye presently, and then he has
more light for tbe rest.
Phil. I'll learn then to dissemble.
Sav. Nay, and^ you be to learn that now, you'll
ne'er sit in a branched' velvet gown as long as you
live; you should have took that at niirse, before
your mother weaned you ; so do all those that
prove great children and batten well. Peace, here
comes a scliolar indeed ; he has learnt it, I warrant
Enler Bevebi
L. Gold. Kind sir, '
the
Tuilh a pasteboard.
u're welcome ; you take all
Bev. I wish they were but >
" 'r presence and this
]rthy of the grace
hoice assembly ;
Here is an abstract, madam, of what's shewn.
Which I commend to your favour.
[^Giving patteboard.
L, Gold. Thank you for'C, sir.
Bfv. I would I durst present my love as boldly !
[Jtide.
-W] i.e.if.
■ branekeil'i Has been explained — emliroidercd, flowered
(■ee Todd's Jahnion's Did. and Col^ave's in v.) ; but ir
Giffiird be nKht (note on Ford's tforti, »ol. ii. p. 510), it
meuu " with tufti, or tancli, dependent ttara tbe thaulden."
Mis. Low. My honi
L. Gold. Look tliee
Mis. Low. What's i
Bev. Music, and wc
14/Ier loud M
fr^ then
of Fire, u
beard int
Jlamrt, a I.
brotlier ! [^jftide.
ere, sweetheart.
) there, nweet madam?
for a while, a thing like a globe
tide of the tiage, andfiofhei out
tG. liAUBsToKe, ni the character
$ from it, niith yellow hair and
ingUd with itrcaki like irtVrf
•.-pointed fire in hii hand; and, at
the tame time, WE^TiiERwrsi, ai Mr, comet
dtmn, hanging by a cloud, tvith a coat made
tike an almanac, all the twelve moon* trt in it,
and tkeftmr qitartert, winter, tpring, tummer,
and autumn, with change of nvalheri, rain,
lightning, tcmpeit, 4'^, ; and from under the
Mtage, on different fide* at the farther end, rite
OvEBDONE at fyater, and PErpERTON at
Earth; Water nilh greenjiags upon hit head
ttanding up initead of hair, and a beard of
the same, with a chain of pearl; Earth nnlh a
number of little thing* resembling Ircet, lite
a thick grove, upon hit head, and a wedge of
fold in hit hand, hit garment of a clay colour,
iBYtKiL itands 6eAind oni/^ivfi Sis G. Lamb-
stone the frit words of hit tpeech.
Bev. Theflatneofteal
SiB G.Lamb. The wicked f re of Uut
Doe* nonr ijtread heat through water, air, and dutt.
Bev, How ! he's out in the beginDJng. \^Atide.'\ —
The wheel of time ~
Wb*. The devil set fire o' the diaiaff. [//«Af.
Sia G.Lamb. Ilhatwai wont in elder time* to poll
For a bright angel — lo they calCd me then —
Now so corrupted with the upstart fret
Of avarice, luxury, and inconstant heats.
k
LIKE A WOUAN S. lOJ
itcA Jram the bloods of cunning clap-fain daugk-
leri,
Night-walking n-ives, but, most, lihidinoui tvidows.
That I, that purify even gold ttielf,
Have the contemptible dross throren in my face,
Artd my bright name walk common in ditgraee.
How am I ut'd a' late, that I'm M handled, —
Thrust into aUeys, hospitals, and tubs !
I not once a name of comfort, marm'd great houses.
When charity was landlord ; I've gieen welcome
To forty russet yeomen at a lime,
In a fair Christmas hall. How am I chang'd.'
The chimneys are swept vp, the hearth as cold
As the forefathers' charity in the son ;
All the good, hospitable heal now turns
To my young landlords lust, and there it bums ;
Rich widows, thai mere wont to choose by gravity
Their second husbands, not by tricks of blood,
Are now so taken with loose Aretine flames
Of nimble wantonness and high-fed pride.
They marry vow but the third part of husbands,
Boys, tmoolh-fac'd catamites, to fulfil their bed.
As if a woman should a woman wed.
These are the f res a' late my brightness darks,
AndJUls the world so full of beggarly sparks.
Bev. HeB[T]t, how am 1 diagrac'd! mhat rogue
shoul<l this be 7
L. Gold. By my faith, inonsieur Fire, you're a
hot whoraon !
Mis. Low. I fear my brother ia heaide his wits.
He would not be so senaelesa to rail thus else.
[Aside.
Wea. Afler this heat, you madams fat and fair.
Open your casements wide, and take in air;
But not that air false women make up oaths with.
No, nor that air gallants perfume tlieir clothes with ;
/ am that air that ktrja about the
None of wiy kindred wiu imelt aut in crorodt ;
Not any of aur houtt trot erer tainted,
When many a thousand of our fori hare fainted:
Yet tome there arc that be my chief puUuteri,
' Widomi that falsify their faith to tuitort,
And will give fair word* mken the eign't w CaiKer,
But, at the ■next remoee, a tcurvy antKer ;
Came to the poor men'* hotuei, eat their baiiqtiet.
And at night mith a boy toil in a bianket:
Nay, »haU I come more near ? perhap* at noon.
For here I find a tpotfaU in the moon :
I htamj/auth't trick; nihat't the that can withttand it.
When Mercury reignt, my lady't chamber-planet ?
He that belief et a midon't Kordi ihallfail.
When I'emtt' gomi-tkirti tmerp'' the Dragon' t tail ;
Fair weather the first day the make* to any.
The lecond cloudy, and the third day rainy ;
The fourth day a great ilorm, lightning, and thunder;
A holt tirikei the suitor, a Ikhj keepi her under.
Bev. 'Life, these are some countcrfoit slaves crept
A' purpose for disgrace ! tlicy ahall all share nkh
Heart, who tlie devil should these be ! {Exit.
L. Gold. My faith, gentlemen.
Air has perfum'd the room well !
Sir O, Twi. S a me thinks, madam.
.Sav. a man may smell her meaning two rooms
off.
Though his nose wanted reparations,
And the bridge left at Shoreditch, as a pledge
For rosa solis, in a hieaking-liouse.' lAtide.
Mis. Low. Life, what should be his meaning in'tl
' luvrp] Old fi. " sweep*."
' bltaking-haaKl L t. bleaching-hDiue.
Low. I wonder.
Over. Melhinkt thh room should yet retain such
heal,
Strwk out from thefrsl ardour, and so gtom yet.
You should desire my company, rtishfor water,
Tlutt offers here to serve your several pipes,
JFithout constraint of mill or death of ivater-kouse.
What if I sprinkled on the widow's c/iceks
A fen< cool drops, to lay the guilty heat
Thai flashes from her conscience to her face ;
WouUPt not refresh her shame ? From such as she
I first took weakness and inconstancy :
I sometimes strell above my banks and spread.
They're commonly Kith child before they're wed i
In me the Sirens sing before they play.
In her more witchcraft, for her tmilet betray ;
Where Fm least seen, there my most danger lies,
So in those parts hid most from a man's eyes.
Her heart, her love, or mkat may he more close ;
I knom no mercy, site thinks that no loss ;
In her poor gallants, pirates thrive in me ;
I help to cast away, and so does she.
L. Gold. Nay, and' you can hold nothing, sweel
sir Water,
I'll wash my hands a' you ever hereafter.
Pxp. Earth stands for a full point, me you should
To stop the gaps of Hater, AW, and Fire :
I love muck nfell, but your first husband better,
Above his loul he lov'a il, as his end
Did fearfully witness it ; at hit last gasp
His spirit fiam'd as it forsook his breast.
And left the sparkles quarrelling 'bout his lips,
Norn of such metal the devil makes hitn whips ;
r
IDS so wn, vo Htif
He tUa iarf g«U nemgk to giml Im mmL.
Ami w/>r orf A, fU titf kU <r«»-< thfmmtfM:
Tit wndtk kt Ufi brUmJ l«m, m»^ mrm kmum.
He mwwmg imrminmrnilffiwrn tAr r^Ab
Offt^ Mm'* liwiagt, A( dnmk dry tktir Iraw ;
n«r fifwr Am « «amw «M mwtkmg tmmUr ;
mr»fmepotUTitf^Mk»,lJkm'tmiiumeliair.
S» G. Lam*. Jmi mmm to ccx, 'gmmm matmn.Jltrm,
Seto
lTi€£Umr>U
Kfemler. ml ttttrmi rvrwn. BirttiL wkk tkrte Mktr
ptrwt, aUirrd tiit tktjamr Wt^t,wiliwtmgt,^^
tfe^Mli Wifi Un»g m grtmt TTdfrx,tht Sprlk
fTtmd ■ a«fc. MmA am ,- (ir HV^lm ffW «m-
cAmA rtrf oJ MoCAcr wiiu, ami m the Eailcn
Wmi: Oey Ahm to lie Am «4;Sr«, vUir fW
Jfaw £iraMftC* MVB to gin tmek mrf iImU ■
' — f> : €l Ike ewi rf tht ^wr O^ Hb^ tinp
" ttr Eteme»U rflknr Segmtr*, mkiek mwm to jwtf
■^ ^mattJaU vf of titemaehu at the r*mmmg ^
the fTrndt. fMoI aU tke ff-twb nrcpf CAM
repntemied by Beteiil.
EmGold. How!
Orerdone!
All our oM suiloi
ir GDbert I^mbatoael na
! jou'tc took paiiH, my b
Wea. Anid I think we're ma good u oar won
ihougfa it coat some of our pimea ; I owe iBoa
for tbe clouds ;ci, I care not wbo knows it ; I
LIKE A WOliAs'S. 109
planets are suflicieat enough to pay the painter,
uad' I were dead.
L. Gold. Who are you, sir?
Bev, Your most unworthy servant.
[^Discovenng hiTntel/.
L.G01D. Pardon me; is'tyou, sir?
Bev. My disgrace utg'd my wit to takesom
Wherein 1 might both best and properliest
Discover my abusers and your own.
And shew you some content, — before y'had a
L. Gold. Sir, I owe much both to your cai
lo»e.
And you shall find your full requital worthy. —
Was this the plot now your poor envy works out ?
I do revenge myselTwith pitying on you. —
Take Fire into the buttery, he has inost need on't;
Give Water some small beer, too good for him; —
Air, you may walk abroad like a fortune-teller ; —
But takedown Earth, and make him drink i' thecellar-
lExcunl Sir G. Lambstonr, Weatiibrwisb,
Overdone, and Pepperton, wilh Low-
Mis. Low. The best revenge that could be !
L, Twi. I commend you, madam.
Sir O. Twj. I thought they were some such
sneakers.
Sat. The four suitors 1 and here was a mesa of
mad elements !
Mis. Low. Lights, more lights there! where be
these blue-coats?''
Enter Serrant» with Ughta.
L. Gold. You know your lodgings, gentlemen,
110 KO vrT, BO UKLP
Sik O. T<ri. Tit boani7 nulwi bold guttt, nw
L. Gold. GixmI ten, lady.
Sik (). Twi. A moM ooaiMitAil n^ht begin m
h«allh, madam.
Ttt your long joy*, the yean go roond
wjiJi't !
L. iiai.D. A» man you have witli'd '««
bouri, *ir,
Take to your lodgiiii
Mm. Cow. A g«ni..-. . all.
lErrunt with S*- all the gv£H* txcept
Philip Twii md Savociwit.
Phil. I'm excepted.
Kav. Take in aaoiher to you tbcn; there's room
enough
In thai rxccplion, fuilh, to serve ua both;
Ttii: dial of my aleep gnei by your eyes.
[Eicunt PiiiMf Twilight and SAVouawn.
.Srnir chiCM.^
ACT V. SCENE I.
The lame.
I.Aur OoLiiBHrt.RKCE, and Mistress Low-watkk
dUffuUeit a* he/ore, are ditcavered.
I,. Gur.i). Now, like n greedy usurer alone,
I H'ltii up all ih'- wcniih this day has brought me,
Aii'l thiia I hug it. [Embracing her.
Ml., ix,w. Priihcf
l,.iii,i.ii. 'J'hus 1 kiss it. [A'ming her.
Mis. Low. I cs
L. Gold. How
I'll try ihat, sure
Mis. Low. Pus
L. Gold. Wha
Mis. Low. No
I't abide these kiasings.
I'll kiss you out ofihat hur
I !' by my troth, I cannot.
L.G01
man must think of othei
How, other mattera,
■si
Mis, Low. Why, are there d
belong to't?
Do you think you've married only a cock-
And fit but for one business, like a fool?
You shall not find it so.
L. Gold. You can talk strangely, sir :
Come, will you 10 bed?
Mia. Low. No, faith, will not I.
L. Gold. What, not to bed.
Mis. Low. And"^ I do, hang
to bed with
L. Gold. How, not to bed with me, sir? with
whom else ?
Mis. Low. Why, am not I enough to lie with
myself?
L. Gold. Is that the end of marriage ?
Mis. Low. No, hy my faith,
'Tia but the beginning yet; death is the end on't,
Unlesa aome trick come i' the middle and dash all.
L. Gold. Were you so forward lately, and ao
mthful,
That 81
you.
my modest strength could save me from
I
112
IIO WIT, KO BELP
e thought
To offer such bold tricki
s I nhall
And by deen
1 feel myself wetl cliaaten'd s
' e iliird part now e
on t •ince ;
ne. i'faith,
o any woman ,
rell break myself from't ;
And not ihe iliird part now to loosely minded.
O, when one sees iheir follies, 'tis a comfort!
My very thoughts take more siaid years upon 'em.
O, marriage is such a serious, divine thing!
It Tnakes yotiih grave, and sweetly nips the ipring,
L. Gold. If I had chose s gentleman for care
And worldly business, I had ne'er look yoa ;
I had the oflTers of enough more fit
For such emplnymeni; I chose you for lore,
YoHih, and content of heart, and not for trouble* ;
Yon are not ripe for ihem ; after you've spent
■Some twenty years in dalliance, youth's affairs,
Then take a book in your hand, and sum up cares ;
As for weallh now, you know that's got to your
hands.
Mis. Low. But had I known 't had been so wrong-
fully got,
As 1 heard since, you should have had free leave
T' have made choice of another master for't.
L. Gold. Why, can that trouble you?
Mis. Low. It may too soon : bni go,
My sleeps are sound, I love not to be started
With an ill conscience at the fall of midnight.
And have mine eyes torn ope with poor men's
curses ;
I do not like the fate on'i, 'tl:
To breed unrest, dissension, i
And I'm the worst at quarrels upon ean
Unless a mighty injury should provoke
Get you to bed, go.
L. Gold. Not without you, in troth, i
i still apt
srild debate,
Mis. Low, If you could think how much you
wrong yourself
In my opinion of you, you would leave me now
With all the speed you might ; I like you worse
For this fond heat, and drink in more suspicion of
you:
You high-fed widows are too cunning people
For a poor gcnileman to come simply to.
L. Gold. What's that, sir ?
Mis. Low. You may make a youth on him,
'Tis at your courtesy, and that's ill trusted :
You could not want a friend, beside a suitor,
To sit in your husband's gown, and look o'er your
writings.
L. Gold. What's this ?
Mis. Low. I say there is a time when women
Can do too much, and understand too tittle:
Once more, to bed ; I'd willingly be a father
To no more noses than I got myself;
And BO good night to you.
L. Gold. Now I see the infection ;
A yellow poison runs through the sweet spring
Of his fair youth already ; 'tis distracted,
JealouB of that which thought yet never acted, —
[Atide.
O dear sir, on my knees I swear to thee — [^KtteeU.
Mis. Low. I prithee, use ihem in thy private
chamber,
As a good lady should ; spare 'em not there,
'Twill do thee good ; faith, none 'twill do thee here.
L, Gold. [ri('/v] Have I yet married poverty,
and miss'd^ love!
What fortune has my heart ! thaf s all I crav'd,
And that lies now a-dying; it has took
' nia'd] Old ed. " muiu"
114 KO WIT, KO BEtP
A •peeding poison, and I'm ignorant hon :
I never knew what beggary was till now.
>alili yields me no comfort in this plight;
Lt brought me loi
[^/itide, and got
Mis. Low. So, this wilt seire now for b pre-
parative
To ope the powers' of some dislike at first ;
The physic will pay't home. —
Enter Low-watsb, ditguued ai bt/ore.
Hon dost ihou, sir f
How goes the work?
Low. Your brother has the letter.
Mis. Low. I find no slop in't then, it moTes well
hitherto ;
Did you convey it closely ?
Low. He ne'er set eye of me.
Enter above* Bevebil irifA a letter.
Bet. I cannot read too often.
Mts. Low. Peace; to your office.
Bev. What blessed fate look piiy of my heart.
But with her presence to relieve me thus?
All Ihc large volumes that my time hath master'd
Are not so precious to adorn my spirit
As these few lines are to enrich my mind;
I thirst again to drink of the same fountain.
[Reads.
Kind sir, — I found your care and lore to much in
the performance of a little, w/ierein your wit and art
had late employment, that I dare now trtist your
hotom teith btuineat of more weight and eminence,
hittle ikotiyht the world, that, tinee the wedding-
' pcniiri] Qy. " porei" t
■ about] i. c. on the upper itage — which mi nippoied to
rcprnenl s gallery on this occaKon: lee ooie, voL ii. p. IZA.
dinner, all mi/ mirth was but dissembled, and seeming
Joys but eoiinlerfeit. The truth to you, sir, is, I find
so liuh siffai of content in the bargain I mtuie i*
the morning, that I began to repent before evening
prayer; and lo shew some fruits of his wilfuineglKt
and wild disposition, more than the dag could bring
fofth to rfie, has note forsooh my bed ; I know no
Mis. Low, But I'll be Bworn I do. [Aside,
Bev. [reatla] Being thus distressed, sir, I desire
your comfortable presence and counsel, whom I know
to be of worth mid Judgment, that a lady maif safely
impart her griefs to you, and commit 'cth to the
virtues of commiseration and secrecy. — Your unfor-
tunatejriend. The Widow-Wife.
I have took order for your private admittance with
a trusty servant of mine own, whom I /tave placed at
my chamber-door to attend your coming.
He shall not wait too long, and curse my slowness.
Low. I would you'd come away then !
Bev. How much am I beguil'd in that young
gentleman !
I would have sworn had been the perfect abstract
Of honesty and mildness; 'tis not so.
Mis. Low, I pardon you, sweet brother ; there's
no hold
Of what yoti speak now, you're in Cupid's pound.
[Aside.
Bev. Blest be the secret hand that brought thee
hither ;
But the dear hand that writ it, ten times blest!
[Ei^it abovt'
Low. That's 1 still ; has blest me now ten times
St twice.
Away ! 1 hear him coming.
KO WIT, XO SBLT
Mis. Loir. Sinke it nire now.
Low. I wBrrant thee, aweet Kale; chooM your
be« ■ [£n( Mw. Low-WATC*.
Ealtr Bete u I.
Bev. Who's there ?
Low. O sir, is't you t you're welooine tfacn :
My lady still expects you, fir.
Bev. Who's with Wr T
Low. Not any crcRture living, air.
Bev. Drink tlial ; iGkmg numtf.
I've made itiec wail too long.
Low. It does not seem so
Now, sir. Sir, if a man tread warilyi
Ai any nise man nill, how often may he come
To a lady's chamber, and be netcome to her !
Bev. "Thou giv'st me learned counsel for a cloaet.
Low. Make uae on't, sir, and you shall find no
[Beveril g«et tnfo Ladi Golden fliece's btd-
So, you are surely in, and you must under.
He-enter Mi», Low-water, nith Sia O. Twilioht,
Ladt Twilight, Sunset, Dutch Merchanl, Grace,
Jahb, PiiiLtf TwiLiouT, Sakdeield, Savol'rwit,
and Servant I.
Mis. Low. Pardon my rude disturbance, my wrongs
urge it ;
1 did but try the plainness ofhcr mind,
Suspecting she dealt cunningly with my youth,
And told her the first night [ would not know her;
But minding to return, I found the door
W(trd«d suspiciously, and I heard a noise,
• h4tl — ] So old ed. Qj. "belt tew" — a touplel being
iDlandtd t
LIKE A WOUAn'S. 117
Such as fear makes and guiltiness at tli' approaching
OTan untook'd-for huaband.
All. This is strange, sir.
Mis. Low. Behold, it's barr'd ; I must rot be
kept out.
StRO.Twi. There is no reason, sir.
MiB.Low. I'll be resolv'd" in't:
If you be sons of honour, follow me 1
^Riuhes into the bed-chamber, followed hy Sik
Oliteb Twilight, Sunset, ^c.
Sav. Then must I stay behind j for I think I wat
begot i' the woodyard, and that makes every thing
go so hard with me.
MiB. Low. [iritAin] That's he ; be sure on him.
Re-enter
■mfuxedly Mis. Low-watek, Sib Oliver
)HT, Sunset, ^c. Lady Goloehflbgcb
Sm
0. Tw
. Be no
t so
furious.
ir.
Ml
.Low.
Shewh
spe
■dtc
him
to slip into her
closet.
hat,
have I
taken
you
1. is
not
my dream
true
Unmerciful aduliress, the Hrst night !
SiaO. Twi. Nay, good sir, patience.
Mis. Low. Give me i1ie villain's heart,
That I may throw't into her bosom quick !
There let the lecher pant.
L. Twi. Nay, sweet sir
Mis. Low. Pardon me.
His life's loo little for me.
L. Gold. How am I wrongfully sham'd !— Speak
Before this company ; I pui
D pity.
0 WIT, *ro ntr
I. Low. Tbb ia a Sam duevMi j^H^n^ |
e ih*t ttutnt in gailt wHk her ;
Sheuksber a
ToogroM, too^
BsT. Rub ■mduef !
Ml*. Low. TntAtroua %
Did I Ibr tU> ou « rnnid'i arn) about tlkee,
GaTc ttiee the welcMoe of a wortb; spirit.
And ioi^A ibee in nr bonM. aaj, enienatn'd tbec
More like a Bintral bratber tban a tumafet !
And bare I tbia reward f perbajM ifae pnde
Of tby food parti did lift thee to this impadeoca;
Lat bes inak« tancb on 'era, tbe geu aotte ofne :
Becanse tbmi'rt deeply read in man books eke,
Tbon woaldat be ao in miae; there it ttaada fee
thee.
Tarn o'er tbe Imtcs, and where joa left, go Ibr-
To BB it ihall be like the book of fate.
Em damt u^
8a O. Tvi. O dear *ir, *ay not «o !
Mu- Low. Naj, 11] swear iDore ; for erer
1*11 oeTer let a foot ibio ber bed,
Nerer petfonn tbe duty of mao to ber.
So long »i I hare breath.
Sn O. Twi. What an oath was tbeiv. sir !
Call it again.
Mtt. Low. I knew, b; atnoroni aparka i
bom their eyes,
lite fire woald appear stionty in a bhae.
And BOW it flames indeed. — Out of ny bsoae
Aad lake jonr gentleman of good partt along with
Thai shall be all your substance ; he can live
In any emperor's court in Christendotn :
You knew^ wbat you did, wench, when you chose
To thrust out tne; you have no^ politic love!
You ate to learn to make your market, you I
Yoti can choose wit, a burden light and free,
And leave the grosser element with me.
Wealth, foolish trash; I thank you. Out of my
Sir O. Twi. Nay, good air, hear her.
[ sweet sir
1
Sun.
Mis. Low. Pray, tc
1 should be hei
r of what
your chambers, genllei
Sir O. Twi. Hear iier but apeak, sir.
Mis. Low. What con she apeak but woman's
common language 7
She's sorry and asham'd for't, — that helps nothing.
L. Gold. Sir, since it is the hard hap of my life
To receive injury where 1 plac'd my love
Mis. Low. Why, la, I told you what escapes she'd
have!
SiB O. Twi. Nay, pray, sir, Tiear her forward.
L. Gold. Let our parting
Be full as charitable as our meeting was ;
That the pale, envious world, glad of the food
Of others' miseries, civil dissensions,
And nuptial strifes, may not feed fat with ours ;
But since you are resolv'd so wilfully
To leave my bed, and ever to refuse n
As hy your d
e I find i
desire,
%o VtT, «o XXIX
Tbongh all mr scti
Heie are oar friendA, bkb b«tk of wonk aad v
PUce M BDuch power ia dm, u> ■
BcM«en nj peace and jovn : aQ toy wealtlt within
doort.
In goU aad je«t«U, lie^i] ■■ tboae two cukett
I latelj M jon to, tbe *alM of wkidh
Amotmu u mmw Stc ilwwwwiJ (jbmji] a-fiMs ;
Exebange a chariiabk hand wiib ne^
And take ooe ouket frtdjr. — fiuv llwe w^ m.
Sia O. Twi. How ny yod to thK mm f
Mis. Low. Troth, I thaak her, air!
Are not both mine alrcadji yoa afcafl wtBag nc.
And then make Batitfacttoa with nuae ownl
I cannot blame ;ou, — a gM>d coone for yoa !
L. Gold. 1 knew' 'twas not my luck to be ao
happy :
My miserieB are no ilarten ; whea they eome.
Stick longer by roe.
SiK O, Twi. Nay, but gire tne leare, sir,
The wealth comet all by her.
Mi9. Low. So does the shame,
Yet that's moat mine ; why should not that be too f
Sia O. Twi. Sweet sir, let us rule' to mtich with
you;
Since you intend an obstinate separation.
Both from her bed and board, give your consent
To some agreement reasonable and hooett.
Mis. Liiw. Must 1 deal hoocsUy with her lust f
L. Twi. Nay, good sir
Mis Low. Why, I tell you, all the wealth ber
husband left her
Is not of power to purchase the dear peace
I
I
I
Hj bean bas lott in Uwm adulterous teas ;
Yet let ber works be bue, mtoe shall be noUe.
Six O. Twi. That's ibe best word of comfort I
beard yet.
Mis. Low. Friends' taty do much. — Go, bring
those caskets forth. — [fxnni Iwo SerwmUs:
I hate her sight ; I'll leave her, though 1 lose by'L
SiK O. Twi. Spoke hke a noble gentlenuoii' faith!
I'll boDour thee for this.
Bet. O cursed man !
Hwi ihj rasb heat force this diTisionT [^^tidc.
His. Low. You shall have free leare now, with-
out all fear ;
You shall not need oil'd binges, priry pas9ige<i
WatchiDgs and whisperings; take him buldly to
L. Gold. O that I bad that freedom '. siitce my
Puts by all other fortunes, and owns him,
A worth; gentlemao : if this cloud were past him,
I'd marry bim, were't but to spite thee only.
So touch 1 bale thee now.
Re-enter Serrants wUh Iwo ciukeU, follonxd by Sia
G11.BEST Lambstoxe, WcAtHSBwisE, Peppek-
SiB O. Twi. Here come the caskets, sir ; hold
your good mind now,
Aad we shall make a ririuoiis end between you.
Mis. Low. Though nothing less she merit bat a
That might still hang upon her and consume her
siil).
A> 't has been many a heller woman's fortuDe,
That has deserv'd less vengeance and felt more.
Yet my miud scorns to leave her shame so poor.
no wn, so taa
Pep. PaniDg of good* before tbe bodies join !
Wu. This 'tis lo RMTTj beardlen, domiiwerbig
boys ; I knew 'toonld come to thii pa»s : well fkre
m JHSt alnaDAc jet ; for now is Mercurr goti^ iMo
ibe aeeond bonte netr imio Ursa Major, ihat grtu
Imaks, tbe Bear u tbe Bridge-foot in beaveit,' which
•hews horrible bemr-baitings in wedlodi; and tbe
Son new cniering into the Dog, veu 'eta all together
Sib O. Twi. You we oliai's in'i.
Ht>. Low. I ihitik 'tis » I left it.
L. Goto. Thai do b«t gage yvoit &ith to thi*
That J0« win ne'er retnni nore to BMlett ne.
Bat rest ia all rermge* fuD a|ipeaa'd
And amplv satisfied with thai hslf mv wealth,
Asd take'i as freeW as lite wishes h^th !
SikO.Twi. La. tok. sir : come, eonie. railh, you
thai! iwear that.
Ml!. Low. Nay, jEendernea.
For your sakes now I will deal faiHy with her.
StV O. Twi. I would we mighl lee that, air !
Mis. Low. 1 cooM tei her free ;
^ (!!■■■■■«— la n* ftrito* bjr rtwiiiw * ia ite mm
■iw faeeata/" — "Af. W *•■ Bi^ m Biiiai liiii is k
•WilbH.- Mai— >•■ Sif^ I. arti^— . tA a. fc I
TV MoK wn ■ w«ll-kBMa lavcn— Bceat«a( ta »*
tai^i."tifcefcdt»fL»>fcatri^- GiaMM7a.iBi
•a Stab;'* Lmlf ^Ftmrnn. i*«r Aw m
(Wtrtm.t^i' — ■' ' "
N. Nay, do not check your goodness; pray,
Bir, on with't.
Mis. Low. I could release lier ere I parted with
— and set her
" her.
i with you for o
) all shar
I
her—
But 'twere a courtesy ill plat
At as free liberty to marry a_
As you all know she was belore I knc
SiK O. Twi. What, couldst thou, ^i:
Mis. Low. But 'tis too good a blessing for her ;—
Up with the casket, sirrah.
L. Gold. O sir, stay!
Mis. Low. I've nothing lo say to you.
Sib O. Twi. Do you hear, sir ?
Pray, lei's have one word i
money.
L. Gold. Since you've expos'd r
and sorrow.
And made me fit but for one hope and fortune,
Bearing my former comforts away with you.
Shew me a parting charily but in this, —
For all my losses pay me with that freedom,
And I shall think this treasure as well given
As ever 'twas ill got.
Mis. Low. I might afford it you,
Because I ne'er mean to he more troubled with
you;
But how shall I be sure of the honest use on't.
How you'll employ thai liberty ? perhaps sinfully.
In wantonness unlawful, and I answer for't;
So I may live a bawd to your loose works still,
In giving 'em first vent ; not I, shall pardon me ;
I'll see you honestly joln'd ere I release you ;
I will not trust you, for llie last trick you play'd
me:
Here's your old suitors.
Pep. Now we thank you, sir.
d
WIT, KO HELP
M; ilmuuic wami mo from all cuckoldy
Be but commaniler of your troTd now.
And before all these gentlemen, our friends,
ni make a worthy choice.
SfS, Fly not ye hack now.
Mis. Low. I'll iry (bee once : I'm married to
There's thy release.
SmO. Twi. Hoyday! there's a release with a
ThouVl free, iweet wench.
L. Goto. Married to another !
Then, in revenge lo thee,"
To Tex thine eyes, 'cause ihou hast mock'd my
heart.
And with such treachery repaid my love,
This is the gentleman I embrace and choose.
[^Taking Beverii. £y the hand.
Mis. Low. O torment to my blood, mine enemy 1
None else to make thy choice of but the man
From whence my shame took head !
L. Gold. "Tis done to (juii " thee ;
Thou that wrong'st woman's love, her hate can tit
tliee.
Sib O. Twi. Brave wench, i'faiih ! now ihou'st an
honest gentleman.
Rid of a swaggering knave, and there's an end od'i ;
waggeni „
n of good parts, this t'other had ii
Life, married to another !
S[R G. Lamb. O, brave rascal, with t
■ Hsyiay! Ihrrr'i . . . rrtrnfr le (*«] Hei
text is cotTupled, ■■ the melre i) fiully.
' futj i- e. requite.
) thing,
o wives I
perhipi, (he
Wea. Nay, and" our women be such subtle anU
mals, I'll lay wait at the carrier's for a country
chamber-maid, and live still a bachelor. When
wives are like almanacs, we may have every year a
new one, then I'll hesiow my money on 'em ; in the
e I'll give 'em over, and ne'er trouble my
a G. Lamii. 1 come in a good time to see you
ni tickle
you, I
laugh indeed.
neniber
me at the banque
2 -book t
And that's my comfort; no
Mis. [lOw. You make mc
Sir G. Lamd. Sir, you re
How cunningly you chok'd m
With a fine bawdy letter ?
Mis. Low, Your own list, s
Sir G.Lamb. I'll read the
now for't i
Turn to the act" in anno Jac. prirno,
There lies a halter for your windpipe.
Mis. Low. Fie, no !
Sir O. Twi. Failh, but you'll find it so, sir, an't
be follow'd.
Wea. So aays my almanac, and he's a true man t
Look you ; [rcadi^ The thirteenth day, niorlt for the
hangman.
Mis. Low. The fourteenth day, make haate, — 'tis
e there iher
Wea. How ! is the book an saucy to tell me so?
Bev. Sir, I must tell you now, but without gall.
The law would hang you, if married to another.
Mis. Low. You can but put me to my book,
sweet brother,
196 Ko viT, xo ucir
Ami I'n mj neck-Tme' perfect here and h«e :
H«&Teo ^*e tkcr eternal joy, nj dMr.fweet bracfcer I
[bittmermg hmtif. mmdrmtvmiimg BKTxau. :
Low-« «TEB MM Jwawrri limmif.
SikG. L.uu. O devil! Iimelf! did she btnmy
A pox of t1
Bet. I're two ukIi deep health* in t<ro joja to
pledge.
HeaTea keep ne from a ■■rieit!
' SikO.Tvt. HumssLow-iraurl
Ii the tbe jeaVm cnckold all this coil'i aboot T —
AimI my n^ wanhiplid ■eiting-aum, is't joo, dr?
Lov. A poor, wTOBg'tl gendnnaa, glad lo sen*
lor kb own, sir.
Sia O. TvL By my &itli.
You've flerr'd the widoir a fine Irid between jos.
Uts. Lov. No nmre mj eneinj bow, ^ bradMC*s
.4nd my kind sister.
Sia O. Tm. Tbere'a no starting bow from't :
Tm her own brotber ; did not yo« know thm t
L. Gold. Twaa Berer told me jet.
SiB O. Twt. I ibo^l yltad kMtwn^
His. Low. What maoef is't T *tia the nme mbb
si31.
1
So worse m
r riian be i
I'm bond to love
tc'd* in this a dmiUe Parity,
LIKE A WOUAJTs. 127
Which, to your praise, shall to all times be known,
Advanc'd my brother, and restor'd mioe own.
Nay, somewhat for my wrongs, like a good sister —
For well you know the tedious suit did cost
Much pains and fees ; 1 thank you, 'tis not lost —
You wish'd for love, and, faith, 1 have bestow'd you
Upon a gentleman ihai does dearly love you;
Tl».
th
ampence I've road
nk, madam,
u well— though I
e you;
and you must
Ilov'
could ne
ver ease you —
Wkcn
I fetch'd in my broth
r thus t
o please you.
Sir
O.
Twi. Here's un
ought !
ty for
ever strangely
L.Got
0. 1 see, too late.
there is
a heavy judg-
Keeps company with extortion and foul deeds.
And, like a wind which vengeance has in chase.
Drives back the wrongs into the injurer's face :
My punishment is gentle; and to shew
My thankful mind for'i, thus I'll revenge this.
With an enibracement here, and here a kiss.
[^Embracex Mistkbss Low-water and kisses
Beveril.
Sib O. Twi. Why, now the bells they go trim,
they go trim.—
1 wish'd ihee, sir, some unexpected blessing,
For roy wife's ransom, and 'tis fain upon thee.
Wea. a pox of this ! my almanac ne'er gulled
me till this hour : the thirteenth day, work for the
hangman, and there's nothing toward it. I'd been
a fine ass if I'd given iwelvepence for a horse to
have rid to Tyburn to-morrow. But now I see
the error, 'tis false-ligured ; it should be, thirteen
days and a half, work for the hangman, for he
ne'er works under thirteenpence halfpenny ; beside,
138 HO HIT, NO HELP
VenuB being a spot in ihe sun's garment, iliews
there should be a woman found in hose ' and
doublet.
SiaO. Twr. Nay, faith, sweet wife, we'll make
no more hours on't now, 'lis ns fine a contracting
lime as ever came amongst gentlefolks. — Son Philip,
master Sandfiold, came Co the book here.
PiiiL. Now Im wak'd
Into a thousand miseries and their lormenis.
Sat. And 1 come after you, sir, drawn with wild
horses; there will be a brave show on's anon, if
this weather continue.
SiB O. Twi. Come, wenches, where be these
younj; gen[tle]men'8 hands now?
L. Twr. Poor gcnileman, my son ! [WiiA.] —
Some other time, sir,
SirO. Twi. I'll have't now, i'faith, wife.
L. Gold. What are you making here?
Sir O. Twi. Pve sworn, sweet madam,
My son shall marry master Sunset's daughter.
And master Ssndfield mine.
h. Gold. So you go well, sir ;
But what make you this way then ?
SiaO. Twi. This? for my son.
L. Gold. O back, sir, back ! this is no way for
him,
SimsET. lii„„t
SikO.Txi.J"""'
L. Gold. O, let me break an oath, to save two
Lest 1 should wake another judgmer
You come not here for him, sir.
SmO. Twi. What's the matter?
greater
LIKE A WOMAN
L. Gold. Either give me free leave to make this
Or ril forbid the banes.'
Sir O. Twi. Good madam, take it.
L. Gold. Here, master Sandfield, then
Sir 0. Twi. Cuds bodkios 1
L. Gold. Take you this maid.
[^Giving Jane to Sandfield.
Sand. You could Dot please me better, madam.
SiaO.Twi. Hoyday! ia this your hot love to
my daughter, sir ?
L. Gold. Come liither, Philip; here's a wife for
you. [^Giving Grace to Philip Twilight.
Sib O. Twi. Zouns, he shall ne'er do that; marry
his sister!
L. Gold, Had he been rui'd by you, he had
married her.
But now he marries master Sunset's daughter,
And master Sandfield yout's : I've sav'd your oath
Phil. O may this blessing hold!
Say. Or else all the liquor runs out.
Sin O. Twi. What riddle's this, madam ?
L. Gold. A riddle of some fourteen years of age
You can remember, madam, that your daughter
Was put to nurse lo master Sunset's wife.
L. Twi. True, that we talk'd on lately.
Sir O. Twi. 1 grant that, madam.
L. Gold. Then you shall grant what follows r at
that time.
You likewise know, old master Sunset here
Grew backward in the world, till his last fortunes
Kais'd him to this estate.
>ie,*ot. i. p. 4TI.
130 KO WlT, NO HELP
Sir O. Twi. Stitl this we know too.
L. Gold. His wife, then nurse both to her own
and yours.
And both so young, of equal years, and daughters.
Fearing the extremity of her fortunes then
.Should fall upon her infant, to prevent il,
She chang'd the children, kept your daughter witli
her,
And sent her own to you for better fortunes.
So long, enjoin'd by solemn oath unto't
Upon her deathbed, I have conceal'd this ;
Bui now so iirg'd, here's yours, and this ii his.
Sav. Whoop, the joy is come of our side!
Wea. Hey! I'll cast mine almanac to the moon
too, and strike out a new one for next year.
Phil, tl wants expression, this miraculous bless-
n
ing!
ind knock
Against yon silver ceiling now for joy !
Wea. By my faith, but I do not mean to follow
you there, so I may dash out my brains against
Charles' wain, and come down as wise as a carman.
Sir O. Twi. I never wonder'd yet with greater
pleasure.
L. Twi. What tears have 1 bcstow'd on a \mi
And left her [here] behind nic !
L. Gold. This is Grace.
This Jane ; now each has her right name and place.
Sun. I never heard of this.
L. Gold. I'll swear you did not, sir.
Sir O. Twi, How well I've kept mine oath againsl
my will !
Clap hands, and joy go with you! well said.
LIKE A woman's. 131
Phil. How art thou blest from shame, and I from
ruin! [To Gbace.
Sav. I from the baker's ditch, if I'd seen you in.
Phil. Not possible the whole world to match
again
Such grief, such joy, in minutes lost and won !
Bev. Who ever knew more happiness in less
compass ?
Ne'er was poor gentleman so bound to a sister
As I am, for the weakness ° of thy mind ;
Not only that thy due, but all our wealth
Shall lie as open as the sun to man.
For thy employments ; so the charity
Of this dear bosom bids me tell thee now.
Mis. Low. I am her servant for't.
L. Gold. Hah, worthy sister !
The government of all I bless thee with.
Bev. Come, gentlemen, on all perpetual friend-
ship.
Heaven still relieves what misery would destroy ;
Never was night yet of more general joy.
[^Exeunt omnes.
" weiiknett'] An evident misprint; but I know not what
word to substitute for it : qy. " wittiness " ? see title of the
play.
Now. let me ac«, wkst naiWf AtA wt hnw mv!
Hold &ir i»o». ud I cwF H( [fc*'^ «l -' 2 ■
iBHs. full mooB twi
inu b«lw«ei) fire awl aix tUi ■ftfimn— !
Thahappra>r%ht; {ftmdi'} ^dtgj^ At ktlf»rt
Sum Acrr mmd ihcrt a etamd or Iwo Sufir^d, —
Tbl't some dosea of paoden nd boir* amc
Pickpockets, ^on iiny know then bj that wUaxit ;
And they do trell to lue thai wliile ifa«y majr.
For Tyburn crscks tbe pipe nnd tfoQt the nvtic
What says the destiny of tlie tmw tltia cToung T
Hah, [rcddi] /tar no coliwrf / bj mij trotk, agreed
then;
Tlie red and while looka cbeerfidJir : tot, know *e
all.
The planet's Japiter, you should be joTial ;
There's nothing Iets° it but the Sun i' the D<^: |
Some bark in comers that will fawn and cog,* |
Glad of tny frngments for their etnher-week ;
The sign's in Gemini too, both hands should meet.
There should be noise i' th' air, if all things hap,
Though I love thunder nhen you make ihe clap.
Some faujis perhaps have slipt, 1 am to answer:"
And if in any thing your revenge appears,
Send me in with all your fists about mine ears.
<■ Jrli] i. e. hinder!.
' rug'] See iiate, p. 71.
* nitiwrr] Here aline (ending with Ihe word "Cancer")
hu dropt ouC
THE INNER-TEMPLE MASQUE.
VOL. V.
N
The Inner' Temple Masque. Or Matqve of Heroet. Presented
(as an Eniertainement for many worthy Ladies :) By Gentlemen
of the same Ancient and Noble Hovse. Tho. Middleton, London
Printed for John Browne, and are to be sold at his Shop in S,
Dunstanes Church-yard in Fleetstreete. 1619. 4to.
Ft was licensed — " 1G19 10 July The Temple Maske.—
An 1618:" see Chalmers's Suppl. ApoU p. 202.
Langbaine (Ace, of Engl. Dram, Poets, p. 372) having said,
in bis notice of this Masque, that Mrs. Behn " has taken part
of it into the City Heiress,** we are told in the Biographia
Dramatica, that *' Mrs. Behn has introduced into the City
Heiress a great part of The Inner-Temple Masque;*' and
Warton " believes" that the Masque "is the foundation** of
Mrs. Behn's play, Hist, of English Poetry, vol. ii. p. 399 (note).
Now the fact is, that Mrs. Behn has not borrowed a single
line of the City Heiress from The Inner- Temple Masque ! Lang-
baine, who in his list of Middleton's dramas omits A Mad
World, my Masters, applies, by mistake, to The Inner- Temple
Masque a remark which he had prepared for his notice of that
Slay, and which he repeats when he mentions the comedy in
is Appendix. He also states that the Masque was first
printed in 1640 — which is the date of the second edition (the
earliest he had seen) of ^ Mad World, my Masters — and hence
the Biogr, Dram, gives a second edition of the Masque in
1640!
THE MASQUE.
This nothing owes to any tale or story
With which some writer pieces up a glory ;
I only made the time, they sat to see,
Serve for the mirth itself, which was found free ;
And herein fortunate, that's counted good,
Being made for ladies, ladies understood.
T. M.
I
nurAsn.
Dtt
Ptm
AF
Kim
ThM
. J(im.T«ita«.
. W. Ro*UV.
. J. Nnrroju -
. aArwvtb
. W.CAUHEinL
Tkrti C«W /Xryt ntn JtW A^h rW h-^ifinmS Aqx.
n, ji/«,
Itan^MrHM*.
J
INNER-TEMPLE MASQUE.
EtiltT Doctor Almanac, coming from tbr fimerai of
Dccmther, or ike Old Year.
D. Al. I have seen the Old Year fairly buried ;
Good gentleman he nas, but toward his end
Full of diseases : he kept no good diet ;
He lov'd a wench in June, which we count vild,"
And got the laticr end of May with child ;
That was his fault, and many an old year smells
Enter Fastino-Dav.
How now! who's this?'' O, one a' the Fasting-
That follow'd him to his grave ;
I know him by his gauntness, his thin chitterlings ;
He would undo a tripe-wife. [Aitde.'] — Fasting-Dayt
Why an so heavy ?
F.-Day. O, sweet doctor Almanac,
I've lost a deur old master ! beside, sir,
I have been out of service all this Kersmas;*^
Nobody minds Fasting-Day ;
I've scarce been thought upon a' Friday nights ;
And because Kersmas this year fell upon't,
The Fridays have been ever since so proud,
■ viU] i. c. vile : a form common in our early wfitrri.
'' KhB-$ Ihit'] Old cd. " wko-t I'iB."
' JCirmai] A corruption 0/ Chriilmai.
HO
E IKXEK-TEXFLE MAMrl.
Tb«]r MCora mj compaDj : the batcben' bays
At Temple-Bar tct their preat dogs opoa me;
I dare not walk abfiMd, nor be teea jei ;
The Ttwj poulters** girls (brow roiieo egg* at me,
S»j, Ptsb-sirect li>«e* n>c e'en but fnta lectb ovt-
wsni:
The nnrett kin I bare looka ihj apod me,
As if 't had (orgM me. I met PlaMiparridge mem,
H)i faog-iirolii eoemf ; he's plump and lN*t7i
The onlj man in place. Sw«et moxtier doctor,
Prefer ne to (be Sew Year ; yon can do't.
D. Al. When can I do'i, air ! yon rniut stay till
Lent
F.'Dat. Till Lent! you kill my beait, sweet
nnutei doctor ;
Tbnist me into Candl«mas-ETe, I do be«eeeb you.
D. Al. Awb;! CaDdlenus-Ete will never bear (liee
r these days, 'tis k fraropolc ;* iHe Puritans
Will nercT yield to't.
F.-Dai. Why, they're &t enousb.
D. Al. Here ronMS Plnmporrioge.
Enltr PLF](POKBIt>GS.
F.-D*T. Ay, be"» sure of welcome :
Methinks be move* like one of (be great porridge*
tubs
Going to the Counter.
Plcm. O, kiltins, cruel tight ! yonder's a Psating-
Day, a lean, spiny^ rascal, with a dog in'i belly ; his
very bowHi bark with hunger. Araunt! thy breath
stinks ; I do not lore to meet (bee fasting ; tlrnn
art nothing bat wind, thy siotnach** full of fiult, as
if they bad lost tbeir way, and (boa made with the
■P^i
UASQUE. 141
wrong end upward, like a Dutch maw, that dis-
charges still into the mouth.
F.-Dav. Why, thou whorson breakfast, dinner,
nunchiona, supper, and bever,* cellar, hall, kitchen
and wet-lardcr!
PiUM. Sweet master doctor, look quickly upon
That I may break the urinal 'bout his pate.
[^Offering urinal to D. Aluakac.
D. Al. Nay, friendship, friendship !
Plum. Never, master doctor,
With any Fasting'Day, persuade mc not,
Kor any thing belongs to Enibcr-week ;
And if 1 take against a thing, I'm stomachful;''
I was born an Anabaptist, a fell foe
To fish and Fridays | pig's my absolute sweetheart;
And shall I wrong my love, and cleave to salt-fish ?
Commit adultery with an egg and butter?
D. Al. Well, setting this apart, whose water's
1
this
ir?
O, thereby hangs a tale ; my tnaatei
Kersmaa'g,
It is his water, sir; he's drawing on,
D. Al. Kersmas['B]7 why, let me see ;
I saw him very lusty a' Twelfth Night.
Pluu. Ay, that's true, sir ; but then he took his
With Choosing King and Queen :'
Has made his will already, here's the copy.
lac^Bj] i.e. Mubborn.
ring Kingand QuEcn] See mucb concemiaE ihe Choosing
ind Queen on Twolflh Day, ia Brand's Pap. Antig.
tel. i. p. 10, ed. 1813.
us
THE INKSK-TKMn.B lUMDB.
D- At- And what has he given sway ? let nie
tee. Plum broth.
[Talang witt/rwi PLcwpoBaniGK.
Plvm. He could not give anay much, sir; hia
children lia»e so consumed him beforehand.
D. Al. [readt] The Uut will ami te*tamtMt of
Kertnuu, irrecocahU. In pritm4, J girt and lietfwealk
to my lecomt to» Im-and-l*^ ki* perpetwU lodging
r tf»e Kimg't Batch, and hi* ordinary ouX nf the
batkcl."
Plch. a iweet allowaace for > Mcond brother !
D. Al. [rM^] Ittm, I giw< to ma/ yotingttt toiu
(Jlttk and PrimaritU^ tkc fiUt eomMomitg of nigku
and daift, amd wiutt and rliMm, logetktr with ont
ucrel gift, that i$, nevtr to give ertr mUle tkay ktK*
aptnntf.
Plum. And if e'er they do, I'll be hanged!
D. Al. [mtilt] For ihc poiteinon of aU my lamtU,
manort, manor-homte*. I Uart them /nil and thaliy (0
my rldfil son Soddy,'^ irAuni, iJiirtn^ hi* mimoritif, I
coMmil to the ctului/y of a pair 0/ Knarei and Onr-
and-lhirtif.
Plum. There's knaves enow, a' conscience, 10
coien one fool !
D. Al. [rraiii] Itrm, J girt to aty rldttt dau^kltr
I /■•ouf/n] A amine »l diet,—" very much lued in an or-
ilinirj." My» Collon ; tee Cvmpltml <ramnUr, p. 16*, od. ISTt.
* Ikthiuktl'] In wbicti ihe brDkramealuid twvad froD) the
(llBriffi' tshle *»« c»rri«l lo ihe CounKrs, (ot Ihe tue of ihe
poorer priiontr*.
I OUrk a»i PriMrdK] Gudm it card* : rODceming the
fermn, f Tht C.*.pl«» aomttlrr. p. 90 : and for in ■cCHml
.if the l»ttpr, "hich ia the wow u Primin, vide $in^> i(r-
•MrrhM *»"• nui. tf PlSfi-g CarJi. p. J4S, Uid Nuo'i <!loa.
- .Ve<U»] A game
played in n»r« «'y* "^
1 ord*. whiih t
I
ER-TEMPLE UA5QUE, 143
Tickle-me-^ickly, and to her nster My-lady'i-kole,
free leave to M/t for themschet, either in court, city,
or country.
Pluu. We thank him heartily.
D. Al. [reads] Item, I Uare lo their old aunt My-
Km-has-pigged' a litler of cotirtesam lo breed up for
Shrovetide.
Plum. They will be good ware in Lent, when
Renh ia forbid by prodamRtion.
D. Al. [readgj Item, I gice lo my nephew Gamhoh,^
commonly called by the name of Kersmas Gamliols, all
my cattle, horme and mare, liul let him shoe 'em himself.
Plum. I ha' seen him shoe the inare^ forty times
over.
D. Ah.{Teads\ jIIso, I bequeath tomy cousia-gemian
fVasiail-bmni,' born of Dutch parents, the privilege of
a free deniten, that is, to be drunk with Scotch ale or
English beer ; and, lastly, I hare given, by mtrd of
mouth, to poor Bimd-man-bvff a flnp with a fox-tail.
Plum. Ay, so has given "tm all, for aught I aee.
But now what think you of liis water, sir ?
* Tiektc'tnc-quickli) . . . My-lady' s-holc . . . ily-toa-kiU'
piggtd'i Gamea at carJs.
r ay nephiui Gamboh^ In The Mniivt <f Chrhlaai, 16IS,
Ben J«DK)n inlroilucFB Clirisltnaa and faU ivn cliildreii, among
wbom ii "GjtUDok, likt a $amhler, with a hoop atid bells; hii
larch- btattr armrd kM o CD«-.Iqy ando iindiBg-cfoM," Woria
(by Gifford), vol. vii. p. 274.
* ihoe the more] A ChrUtniiii aporl:
" Of Blind-man-buire, and of ilie care
Thai yDUng meB haie to lAow the Hart,"
Hetrick's lUtpiridi,, &c. p. IM, ad. 104B.
' Ifauail-bou'li Filled with spiced itinearale,8rc., and lued
oa NeW'yeai'a eve, &c,: see Brand's i*«f). ^i '17. vol. i. p. l.anq.
cd, 1813. In ihc Mamae by Jonion juat meulioned, oneofthe
children of ChriBtmas ii " Wabbei, H*f a irral lempilir, and
tangiltr ! lur fmgi bearing a brgwi bmel, dteit mlh ribandt and
mnury, b^fm htr."
THE INNEB-TEUPl.E MAIOUB.
1
D.At
Bill ne'e
F.-D«
I ihould
Wtll
he may linger out till CaodletnM, |
r. Would he were gone
)e more respected.
lAM.
Euler Naw Yea
a.
D. Ai
PtUK.
D.Al.
Here'. New Year.
I've ne'er a gift to give
Mirthondal.ealilifulti«
him ; I'll begone. J
e fill all your daya! 1
Look freshly, i
N. Year. I cannot, master ilocior,
My failier's death sets the spring backward i' tne
For joy and cumfort yet ; I'm now between
Sorrow and joy, tbe winter and the spring ;
And as time gathers freshness in its season.
No doubt affects' will be subdu'd with reason.
D.Al. You've a brave mind to work on; use
my rules.
And you shall cut a caper in November,
When other years, your grandfathers, lay bed-rid,
N. Yeak. What's he that looks
shakes so ?
D. Ah.* A Fasting-Day.
N.Year. How's that?
D. Al. a foolish Fasting-Day,
1 piteously and
ble coxcomb, seeks
Has hunted up and down, has been at court.
And the long porter' broke his head across there ;
'' qfftcli'] i. «. aflectionB, Feelingi.
- D. AL] Old rd. ■' Fn.*."
' Ihi lung porler] " Waller Parsons born in this Counlywai
tint Apprentice to a Smith, when be grew lo tall in slsture.
thai B hale wiu mnde Tor him in lli« Ground lo Blnnd ihercJD
up to the kactt, so lo make hltn odeqiiaic xilh his Fctloir-
work-iuen. He afierwardi was Porter lo King Joniesi seeing
■1 Galea generally ire higher than ibe rest of the Building,
He had rather see the devil ; for this he says,
He ne'er grew up bo tall with fasting- days,
I would not, for the price of all my almanacs,
The guard had took him there, they'd ha' beat out
His brains with bombardB," I bade him slay till
Lent,
And DOW he whimpers ; he'd to Rome, forsootli.
That's his last refuge, but would try awhile
How well he should be us'd in Lancashire.
N. Year. He was my father's servant, that he
D, At. 'Tis here upon record.
F.-Day, I serv'd liim honestly, and cost him little.
D. Al. Ay, I'll be sworn for that.
F.-Dav. Those were the times, sir.
That made your predecessors rich and able
To lay up more for you ; and since poor Fasting -days
Were not made reckoning on, the pamper'd flesh
Hai play'd the knave, maids have had fuller bellies,
Those meals that once were sav'd have stirr'd, and
leapt.
And begot bastards, and they must be kept ;
lo il waa liglitly thai the Porter ahould be tnllcr than odier
Percons. Hit wiBpropDrdoaabU in all parta, anil lind strength
equal Id heigbt, Valaiu lo his alrenglli. Temper to liis valour,
■o Ihat he diidained to do an injury to any single peraon. Ue
would make nothinK lu take (wo of the ullest Yeomen of ihe
Guard (like the CiuiTd and Liver) under his Arma at once,
and order them an he pleased. Yet were bis Parents (for
ought 1 do understand to the contrary) but of an ordinary
nature. . . . Thi> Fanoni died Anno Dom. 162-." Fuller's
H'arlhki [p. *8, Sltfff<ird-Mrt), ed. 1662,
■ Tht guard . . . bmnbordij i. e. large cans : compare The
Martyrtd Smldier, 1638, by "tt. Shirley :
" the black Jacks
Or Bimbardi toit by thi King'i Gvard." Si^- ni.
' tkal he uat, lir] Should, perhaps, be given lo Doctor
Almanac.
TOL. V. 0
1-16 THE IKNER-TEMPLE UASQUE.
Better keep Fasting-days, yourself may t(>Il ye,*
And for llie profit of purse, back, and belly.
D. Al. I never yei heard truth better whin'd our.
N.Year. Thou shall not all be lost, nor, for
vain-glory,
Greedily welcom'd ; we'll begin with virtue
As we may bold wilh't, that does virtue right. —
Set him down, air, for Candlemas-Eve at night.
F.-Da*. Well, better late than never:
This is my comfort, — I shall come to make
All the fat rogues go to bed su|)perles8,
Get dinners where ihey can. [£*»(.
Entm- Time.
N. Year. How now ? nbat's he I
D. Al. It is old Time, sir, that belong'd to all
Your predecessors.
N. Year. O, I honour that
Reverend figure! may 1 ever think
How precious tbou'rl in youth, how rarely
Redeem'd in age !
Time. Observe, you have Time's service;
There's all in brief.
Enter, /or the Jirst /tntimasque," Candlemas-Dat,
Sit HOVE -Tuesday, Lent, 111 Mav-Dav, Mid-
BVMMEB-EvE, and First Doo-Dav.
N. Year. Ha, doctor, what are these ?
' yt] Olil ed. "you."
■ Anlmnititii'] " An Antimasijue, or, u Jonion elaenbere
rails it, 'a Foil, or false maique,' is aomeiliing directly oppoaed
to ibc principal msHjue. If ihit wi« lofty and Bmous, that
wu light and ridiculoui. Il idmillcd of tbc wildeat excra-
vigancie*! and il ia only ly Jantott thai atlmpli arc imietimri
nadt re cannecl II, in any digret, uiilh tit main itory," Gifford's
nnlc on B. Jonson'R Ifarti, vol. lii. p. 2^1. The praise which
GiSbrd would conliDe la Jodsod may cerlaioly be extended lo
Middleioo.
THE INKER-TEMPLE
Time. The rabble that I pity; these I've serv'd
Bui few or none have ever observ'd me.
Amongst this dissolute rout Candlemas-Day !
I'm sorry to see him so ill associalL'd.
D, Al. Why, that's his cause of coming, to com-
plain
Because Shrove -Tuesday this year dwells so near
But 'tis his place, he cannot be remov'd. —
You must be patient, Candlemas, and brook it. —
This rabble, sir. Shrove -Tuesday, hungry Lent,
III May-Day, Midsummer-Eve, and the First Dog-
Day,
Come to receive their places, due by custom.
And that they build upon.
N. Year. Give 'em their charge.
And then admit 'em.
D. At. I will do't in cone."—
Stand forth, Sh rove-Tuesday, one a' the sllenc'st
bricklayers ;
'Tis in your charge to pull do
To set your tribe a-work, cau!
And make a dangerous teak thi
And tickle Codpiece-Row ; ru
The poor players never ihriv'd
' in cane} Qj. incsnijwnf (I e. immedialc];) t — the MS.
hiving had, pertiBps, ■' iaron." A friend suggests Ibal there
might bflve been aome abbreviation ot eaxtra, oi contrariei ;
tee nhal falloni ; doctor AJmanac charges ihem to do the re-
verie of oliBt they ought to da, for " to bid 'em sin's the nay
to make 'em mend."
r pulliavnt bmidy-kiaut; Uc ruin Iht Coctpii] The
apprcaiicea med (ai already ob«erved, note. vol. iii. p. 217)
10 puU down brothels on Shrove-Tuesday : concerning Turr-
bull Street, see note, vol. iv. p. 3*. The rest of the present
passage, where there is a pun on the word " leak," is e*-
plaioed by the follawitig extract from Dekker's OieUi Jhna-
1 bawdy-houses,
spoil in Shored) tch,
e ; deface Turnbtdl,
I the Cockpit;^
'tj a' my conscience.
E^
H8
R-TEHFLE ItASQCS.
Some quean pi«s'd upon the first brick. —
For you, lean Lent, be sure you uiter first
Your rotten herrings, and keep up your best
Till thev be rotten, then there's no deceit.
When they be all alike.— You, 111 May-Day,
Be as unruly a rascal ss you may.
To siir up deputy Double-diligence,
That comes perking forth with halberts. —
And for you, Midsummer* Ere, that watches warmest,'
Be but sufficiently drunk, and you're well harnesL —
You, Dog-Day
Dog-Dav. Wow t
D. Al. a churlish, maundering' rogue!
You must both beg and rob, curse and collogue ;■
In cooler nights the barn with doxies fill.
In harvest lie in haycock with your gill." —
They have all their charge.
N. Year. You have gi'n't at the wrong end.
D. Al, To bid 'em sin 's the nay to make '«in
For what they are forbid they run to headlong;
I ha' cast their inclinslions. — Now, your service
To draw fresh blood into your master's cheeks,
[/fere the first dance and first Anlinuuqut, by these
six rude onei, n-ho then exeunt. Exit Time.
ttarlie, 11118: " Sbroue-tuecda; fallei on thit day. on which
the prentices plucked downe Ihe cocke-pit, and on which they
did alnayes vie to rifle Madame Le>ke« boiue *t the vpper
end of Shorditeh.'- Sig. c.
' wanaeit'] A friend nishei to read "warneit."
' maunilerlug'i i. e. multering, grumbling : (and in cant
language, begging.)
* eoIlBgut'i "To Collogue. To wheedle or coax." Gro»e"s
Clati. Diet, i^ V-a.1. Tatigvt, lu which lenae it ia probably uied
here: it meaas also — to talk closely with, (□ ploL
*■ gOI\ j. e. wench.
THE INNEB-TEUFLE UASaCE. H9
N. Year. What scornful looks the abusive vil-
Upon the reverend form and face of Time !
Methought it appear'd aorry, and went angry.
D. Al. 'Tis still your servant.
EnUr, Jot the Kcond Aatimasque,' Three Good
Days, Three Bad Days, ana Two Indifferent
Days.
N. Year. How now ? what are these ?
D. Al. These are your Good Days and your Bad
Days, sir ;
Those your Indifferent Days, nor good nor bad.
N. Year. But is here all?
D. Al. a wonder there's so many.
How these broke loose ; every one stops their pas-
sage,
And makes inquiry after 'em :
This farmer will not cast his seed i' the ground
Before he look in Bretnot ; there he linds
Some word'' which he hugs happily, as, Plij the box,
Make half betimei, ItfalU into thy mouth ;
A punctual lady will not paint, forsooth.
Upon hia critical days, 'twill not hold well;
Nor a nice cily-wedlock* eat fresh herring
Nor periwinkles,
Although she long for both, if the word be that day
Gape after gudgeons, or some fishing phrase ;
' \ wife will not entreat the money-
' EnUrifar Iht leeand Jiilimaiiiae,Scc.] This stage- direction
{not in old td.) is sufilcienl here, as the pcrsana who compose
the second ADlimasque Are minutely deacri bed in aaubsequent
150
rHEK-tturu lUMtlR.
house uid gets lier huabuid's
That lies i'
childre
To furnish a poor gentleman's extremes,
If ahe find XihU in a bag that morninK ;
And so of (houiand follies : these suffice
To shew you Good, Bad, and Indiflerent Dajrs ;
And all have tlicir inscriptions — hcie's Cock-a-hoop,
This The gear ciillen4,* and this Faial keart never;
These noted lilack for badness, fl<idi in piti.
This Putt Jar pudiiiiigi, this Put up iky pipes :
These black and white, indilTerenlly inclining
Tu both their natures, Seithrr full nor foMling,
In dock out mctlU.*' — Now to your nioiion,
Black knaves and nhite knaves, and you, parcel-
Two hygxicriticBl, party-colour'd varleta,
That play o' both hands.
[//rrc the ifcimd dance and latt Antimasmie by
eigkt boift kabiled according lo ikeir former
charaeler* : Ike Three Good Dats atlirtd
all in n'kile garmenU titling cloie lo ikeir
bodie*, their inieriplioni on their breattt — on
the first Cock - a - hoop, on the lerond The
gear cotiens, on the third Faint heart never:
The TltBEE Bad Dats all in black garmenti,
their facet black, and their intcriptions — an
Ike Jlrst Rods in piss, na the leamd Post
for puddings, oh the third Put Up thy pipes :
> tkt gtar toitrns] i. e. ih« mutter goM on proiperomly :
. IJO.
Sig. rl, Hort'u, rd. tS»8.
r Tairer BottUi, p. 125— ITsrtM,
THE IKKEB-TEUPLE UASQUE,
The Two Indifierent D*ys in garmmlt half
n-kiie, half black, their faces seamednith that
parly-colour, and their mscripl'iont — on the
frit Neither full nor fsating, on the second
In dock out nettle. These having purchased
a smile from the cheeks of many a beauty by
their ridiculous fgures, vanith, proud of thai
D. Al. I see these pleasures of low births and
our cheeks ; I pity you,
conceal IVom you
Add little freshness
And can no longer I
Your happy omen.
1 will disclose a secret in astrology, ^h
By the sneet industry of Harmony, ^^^
Your white and glorious friend; ^H
Even very deities have conspir'd to grace ^|
Your fair inauguration ; here I find it,
'Tis clear in art,
The minute, nay, the point of time's arriv'il,
Methinks the blessings touch you; now they're felt,
{_Al tvkich loud music heard, the first cloud
vanishing, Harhoni is discovered, with
her sacred quire.
The First Song.
Har. ising.^
Nen Year, New Year, hark, harken to me!
I am sent doti'n
Toeron>n
Thy wishes with me :
Thyfair desires in cirlue's court arc f I'd;
The goodness of thy thought
This blessed work hath wrought,
THE inXES-TEUFlE HAMVI.
Tkj/ tpnug tkall ra all twttt* a
Tky tmmmfT tluitt ir rUat m»d «
ny aMnmn Mwrll tht Artnt ««< b/l
ffiiii com and /mitt, ript, twMt, aW mffi ;
>f wJ in (Ajr tinier, wkm all »«,
TAoB thall depart ai wkilr ai t»OK.
[TAmi n itrond rtoud faauhatg, lilt Mampten
thmflrrx art dueotfrrd,nUi»t i» arektt of
clotuU, l>f'ing Hinf m nnmber, hervet deijled
for titrxt rirluet .- the tamg goet on.
BeMd, UMd. Wik. Urktn to me !
Glory'* come down
Tocrowm
Tkif trithrt irilk me :
Bright hrraci in lailatg ioMiMr tpkt^i,
I'irftie't rternal rprmg,
By makiiis; Time their kiig.
Set, they're bryond time mtr'd;
Yet, in their lore to human good.
In which ettate thrmtflret onct ttood,
Tkey all dettmd to hart their worth
Shifte (o imitation /orth ;
And by their motion, light, and loM,
To ihew how ajler-timtt thamld moff.
[^Then the Matipiert deteenSng itt to their
Jtrtt donee,
Th€ Second Song.
Hak. [ting*]
Move on, more on, be ttiU the $ame.
You beaaleout torn of brightneu ;
ton add to honour spirit andfiame.
If grace and whiteneii ;
Yon whote every little motion
ftsji leant itrictneu more derotion.
H-TEUPLE UA3aUC.
153
Every pace of that high tvorth
It treads a fair example forth.
Quickens a virtue, makes a story
To your onm heroic glory ;
May your three-times-thrice blest number,
Raise meritfrom his ancietU slumber.'
Move on, move on, 8[C.
[ Then they order tkemielvei for their second
dance, after which
The Third Song.
HAB._[«ngO
See, nhitherfale hath Ud you, lamps of honour.
For goodness brings her oten reward upon her ;
Look, tarn your eyes, and then conclude commending,
And say you've lost no morth by your descending ;
Behold, a heaven about you, spheres more plenty,
Therefor one Luna here shines ten, and for one Fenut
tn-enty.
Then, heroes, double bath your fame and light.
Each choose hti star, and full adorn this night.
j.^ [^/{t nihich the Masquers make choice of their ladies
and dance. Time re-entering, thus closes all.
Time. The morning gray
Bids come away;
Every lady should begin
To take her chamber, for the stars are in.
{_Then making his honour to the ladies.
Live long the miracles of times and years,
Till witli those heroes you sU fix'd in spheres !
THE
WORLD TOST AT TENNIS.
-A Courtly Masque : The Deuice called, The World tost at
Tennis, As it hath beene diuers times Presented to thfi Content'
ment qf many Noble and Worthy Spectators : By the Prince his
Seruants.
w sj J * (Tho:Middleton\
Inuented and set \ ^ \^ ^^^^
( William Rowley
doume, By
)
London printed by George Purslowe, and are to be sold at Christ
. 4to.
In all the copies of this Masque which I have seen, a por-
tion of the letter-press has been cut off from the bottom of
the title-page by tne binder. Langbaine (Ace. of Engl. Dram,
Poets, p. 374) ffives to it the date 1620 : and so the Biographia
Dramatica, which adds that it was entered on the book of the
Stationers' Company July 4, in that year.
VOL. V.
THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY.
TO TBB TBULT KOBLE
CHARLES LORD HOWARD, BA.BO!t or Efptmoham,
Tub Rioiit Uonouiulblk MARY LADY BFFINGBAH,
aUtil Dm^lMrfflU trmlfgrnrtuumdj-KiidomiSiK'Vu.l.liLli
COCE * me, Kaiglil, lard Uafar ^IkU CUf, tnul Lanl Gtntraf
rflkt Mililary t'rret*-
To whom more properly may art prefer
Workfl nf this nature, which are high and rare*
Fil (o ticllght K prince's eye and ear,
Than to ihe hands of auch a worthy pair?
Imagine this — mix'd with delight and state,
Dcinfi then an cnteriainment for the best —
Vour iiutil« nuptials coincs to celebrate ;
And ihtiugh it fall short of the day and feast
Of your iiioit iiacred and united loves.
Lot none uny thertforo it untimely moves :
It can, I hope, come out of season never
Til find your joys new — as at first, for ever.
Moat ropectAilly devoted
To both your Honours,
TllO. MtDDt^TOX. —
To the weil-toiahifig, well-readittg Understander,
weU-under standing Reader,
Simplicity S.P.D.
After most hearty commendations, my kind and
unknown friends, trusting in Phoebus your under-
standings are all in as good health as Simplicity's
was at the writing hereof; this ia to certify you
further, that this short and small treatise that fol-
lows, called a Maiqw, the device further intituled
The World lost at J'fnuM— how it will be now loased
in the world, I know not — a toy brought to the
press rather by the printer than the poet, who
requested an epistle for bis pass, to satisfy his per-
users how hitherto he hath behaved himself. First,
for his conception, he was begot in Brainford,*
born on the bank-side of Helicon, brought up
amongst noble gentle commons and good scholars
of all sorts, where, for his time, he did good and
honest service beyond the small seas : he was fair-
spoken, never accused of scurrilous or obscene
language, a virtue not ever found in scenes of the
like condition ; of as honest meaning reputed, as
hia words reported ; neither too bitterly taxing, nor
too soothingly telling, the world's broad abuses ;
moderately merry, as senlentiously serious ; never
condemned but for his brevity in speech, ever
wishing bis tale longer, to be assured he would
continue to so good a purpose. Having all these
tinndsomc qualittet simply, and no oilier com-
pounded with knavery, there is great hope he shall
pass Btill by the fair way of good report, ]>erBevering
in those lionest courses nhich may become the son
of Simplicity, who, though he be now in a masque,
yet is his face apparent enough. And so, loving
cousins, having no news to send you at this time,
but that Deceit is entering upon you, whom I pray
you have a care to avoid ; and this notice 1 can
give you of him, —there are some six or eight
pages before him, the Lawyer and the Devil behind
him. In this care I leave you, not leaving to be
Your kind and loving kinemaD,
SiMPtlCITI.
This our device we do not call a play,
Because ne break the stage's laws to -day
Hath hit delight home in the n
Thalia's prize ; Melpomene's ead style
Hath shook the tragic hanil another while ;
The Muse of History hath caught your eyes.
And she [that] cliaunis the pastoral psalteries:
We now lay claim to none, yet all present,
Seeking out pleasure to find your content.
You shall perceive, by what comes first in sight.
It was intended for a royal night :
There's one hour's words, the rest in songs ;ind
dances ;
Lauds no man's own, no man himself advances.
No man is lifted but by other hands ;
Say he could leap, he lights but where he stands :
Such is our fate ; if good, much good may't do you I
If not, sorry we'll lose our labours wi' you.
WORLD TOST AT TENNIS.
An IxDUCTiOR to the Matque prepared/or hiiMajesly'i
Entertainment at Denmark- Hmae.
Enter Ric
D and St. James's.
St. Jam. Why, Richmond, Richmond, nhy art so
heavy ?
Rich. I have reason enough for that, good,
aaiDted sister; am I not built ivith stone — fair,
large, and free stone — some pan covered with lead
St.Jam. All this is but a light-headed under-
standing now ; I mean, why so melancholy ? thou
lookest muBtily, methinks.
Rich- Do I sof and yet I dwell in sweeter air
than you, sweet St. James : how three days warmiDg
has spirited you ! you have sometimes your vaca-
tions as other of your friends have, if you call
yourself to mind.
St. Jam. Thou never sawest my new gallery and
my tennis- court, Richmond.
Rich. No, but 1 heard of it, and from mtience it
St. Jam, Why, from whence came it ?
Rich. Nay.lawfully derived, from the brick-kilns,
as thou didst tbyseIC
164
D TOST 4T TEXXIS.
St. Jam. Thou breedett crickeU, I think, and that
will serve for the anagram to a critic. Come, I
knon thy grief;
Tliou fear'st that our late rival, Denmark-House,
Will take from our regard, and vre shall want
The noble presence of our princely mailer
In his BO frequent visitation,
Which we were wont so fully to enjoy.
Rich. And is not that a cause of sorrow then?
St. Jam. Rather a cauie of joy, that we enjojr
So fair a fellowship. Denmark ! why, she's
A stalely palace and majestical,
Ever of courtly breeding, but of late
Built up unto a royal height of state.
Rounded with noble prospects; by her side
The silver-footed Thamesis doth slide.
As, though more faintly, Richmond, does by thee.
Which I, denied to touch, can only see.
EtOer DsHHAUc-HooB.
Rich. Who's this ?
St. Jam. Tib she herself, i'faith ; cornea with
DsK.-H. Ye're welcome, most nobly welcome !
St. Jau. Hark you now, Richmond ; did not I
tell thee 'twas
A royal house 7
Dem.-H. Why, was there any doubt
or OUT kind gratulation ? 1 am proud
Only to be in fellowship with you,
Co-mate and servant to so great a master.
St. Jam. That's Richmond's fear thou'lt rob us
both. ihoH hnst such an enticing face of thine own.
Dek.-H. O let not that be any difference!
When wc do serve, let us be ready for't.
And ClU'd at his great pleasure j the round year
In her circumfereiit arms will fold us all.
And give us all employment seasonable.
la
I for colder hours, when the bleak air
Bites with a
tooth : when
has sear'd.
I
And autumn all discolour'd, laid all fallow,
Pleasure taken house and dwells within doors,
Then shall my towers smoke and comely shew :
But when again tlic fresher mom appears.
And the soft spring renews her velvet head,
St. James's take my blest inhabitants,
For she can better entertain them then,
In larger grounds,' in park, sports, and delights :
Yet a third season," with the western oars,
Calls op to Richmond, when the high-heated year
Is in her solsticy ; then she affords
More sweeter -breathing air, more bounds, more
pleasures ;
The hounds' loud music to the flying stag.
The feaiher'd talented to the falling bird,
The bowman's twelve-score prick*' even at the door.
And to these I could add a hundred more.
Then let not us strive which shall be his homes,
But strive to give him welcome when he comes.
Rich, By my troth, he shall be welcome to Rich-
mond whensoever he comes.
■ /n larger groundi, &c.] Old ed.
" In Isr^r bounds, in Packe, sporta, delights, and graunds."
In altering tUa corrupted line I have prefeiied retaining the
word "grounda" rather than "bounds," because the lalter
pretentlj occurs.
^ ftt a third ittum] Old ed. " A third Beaton yet."
' faJnfer] i. e. hawk. Oui early poets repeatedly uie
laUnl tor taloin
" His laUnli red with blixid of martheied foules."
Drayton's OtcU, 1004. sig. d a.
Set, too, the qulbbie in Shskeepeare'a Lom'j Labour'i Lull,
MI iv, *c. 2. " ir a lattnl be a claw," &c.
' prick] i. e. the point or mark in the centre oS the buiti.
IM TBK WOtUl TOST AT TKinn*.
St. Jim. And to St. Janwa't, i'faiib. al nidn^hl.
Deh.-H. MeaDtime 'lis fit I give hiin weleome
hitiicr ; —
But first to jrou, my royal, royal'at guen,*
And I could wish your banquet were a feast i
Howe'er. your welcome is moct botinteooa.
Which, I beseech joti. take •« gractooi. —
To you, my owner, master, and m; lord.
Let me the second unto you afford.
And then from you to nil ; for it is re«i
That gives indeed what I but seem to do.
I was from ruin rais'd by a fair band,
A royal hand ; in that state let me stand
For ever now : to bounty I was bred,
Hy cups fuU-brimm'd and my free table* apread
To hundreds daily, even witliout my door ;
I had an open hand unto the poor,
I knoTT 1 shall eo still ; then shall their praycra
Pass by the porter's Iccys, clinih op each stain.
And knit and joint my new re-edified fratnea,
That I shall able be lo keep your names
Unto eternity : Denmark-House shall keep
Her high name now till Time doth fall asleep
And be no more. Meantime, welcome, welcome.
Heartily welcome ! but chiefly you, great sir ;
Whate'cr lies in my power, command me all.
As freely as you were at your Whitehall. ^Exemtt.
' nfattt jnfii] Mif mnn Queen Anne; but more pro-
bablr, I thioli. bei brother, the king of Denmirk, wba Tinted
Emiiad tvicr, in 160S and in ISU. " In tbe reign of King
Junes I- the bcnuc before ai [Somenet-hDiue] became, Ipw
facSo, B rofal midence on the part of the Queen, and even
changed ill aame \ and it appean that her Majealr repaired
it, at her own chaiw, for the reception of her brother Chris-
dan IV., kia|t of Denmark, wbo liiiied England k.a. 1606,
frnn which time it is said that the Queen affected to call it
Dtmmark-Himit." CuHalia, P. IF. p. 63, b; Peggt ', who, arter
■on on ibis lubjecl, chooses to rely on tbe statement of the
E WORLD TOST AT TENNIS.
A COURTLY MASQUE, &c.
Enter a Soldier and a Schvlar.
i-ral how is't? thou
field lo-day.
day i' the field: if
eom-
ScHO. Soldier, ta-ra-ra-r
lookest 3s if thou hadst lost i
Sol. No, but I have lost
you take me a tnaiinding' but
manding, let 'em shew me the House of Correction.
ScHo. Why, thou wert not maunding, wert thou?
there's martial danger in that, believe it.
Sol. No, sir ; but 1 was bold to shew myself to
some of my old and familiar acquaintance, but
being disguised with my wants, there's nobody
ScBo. Faith, and that's the worst disguise a man
can walk in ; thou wert belter have appeared drunk
in good cloilies, much better: there's no super-
fluities shame a man, — as to be over-brave,** over-
bold, over -swearing, over -lying, over- whoring;
these add still to his repute : 'tis the poor indi-
gence, the want, the lank deficiency, — as when a
continuslon of Stow"* Survgy of Lonion — thai on Shrove-
Tuesday. 1616, Queen Anne having fcnsled King Jaiaet at
Somerset. House, he then changed il( Dsme, and appointed it
to be Ibenceforlh called Denmark- Uoiue, p. So; see also
Nichols's Pr*g, ^f K. Jama, vol. iii. p. 233.
WhcD this Maaque was originally produced aa a royal
I kno
dedicated were not i
(by Btydges). vol, iv.
an evident alluBian ii
The o
1 102C
p. 277. Towards the
tbe wars in the Pslai
t ColHcii
1 Pf/reg
168
TBI WOkLD TOST AT TZSBU.
nun cannot be brsTe, dares not be Md, ia afraid
to awear, wants tnaietenuice far a lie, and tnoney
i> give a nhore ■ supper; thii is poaprr
MM $alU ett : Day, he shall never be rich with
; ncitlier, nhicb it anotber wonder, because
I BMnj b^^ars are rich.
Sol. O caniiM faetmlia .' (kis dog-eloquence of
thine will make thee somewhat one day, scholar :
couldst tliou turn but this prose into rhyme, there
were a pitiful living to be picked out of it.
ScHO. I could nuke ballads for a. Deed.
Sol, Very well, sir, and I'll warrant thee tbou
shall never want subject lo write of: one hangs
himself to-day, another drowns himself to. morrow,
a sergeant stabbed next day ; here a pettifogger »'
the pillory, a bawd in the cart's note, and a pander
in the tail ; Aic antier, kiec rir, fuhiont, 6ct)oas,
felonies, fooleries ; — a hundred havens has the
balladmonger to uafllc at, and new ones stilt daily
discovered.
Scuo. Prithee, soldier, no further this way; 1
rrticipate more of Heraclitua than Deraocritut ;
could rather weep the sins of the people than
aing 'em.
Sol. Shall 1 set thee down a course to live f
ScBO. Faith, a coarse living, 1 think, must serve
my turn ; but why hast thou not fomid out thioe
own yet 7
Sol. Tush, that's resolv'd on, beg ; when there's
I shall be brave again, hugg'd and belov'd :
We are like winier-garmencs, in the height
And [the] hot blood of summer, put off, thrown by
For moths' meat, never so much as thought on;
Till the drum strikes up siorms again, and then.
Come, my well-lined soldier, (with valour,
fraia
oney J
THE WOULD TOST AT TENNIS.
16!
Not valure,)* keep me warm ; O, I love thee !
We shall be Irimm'd and very well briish'd ihcn ;
If we be fac'd with fur 'tia tolerable.
For we may pillage then and steal our prey.
And not be hang'd for't; when the least fingering
In peaceful summer chokes us. A soldier,
At the best, is even but the forlorn hope
Unto his country, sent desperately out,
And never more expected ; if he come.
Peace's war, perhaps, the law, providently
Has provided for him some house or lands,
May be suspens'd in wrangliog controversy,
And he be hir'd to keep possession.
For there may be swords drawn ; he may become
The abject second lo some stinking baily :
O, let biro serve the pox 6rst, and die a gentleman !
Come, 1 know my ends, but would fain provide for
ihee;
Canst thou make
Scuo. What ? I have no handicraft, man.
Sol. Cuckolds, make cuckolds ; 'tis a pretty
trade
[n a peaceful city; 'tis women's work, man,
And they're good paymasters.
.ScHO. I dare not ; 'tis a work
Of supererogation, and the church
Forbids it.
Sol. Prithee, what is Latin for
.\ cuckold, scholar ? 1 could never learn yet.
ScHo. Faith, the Latins have no proper word for
Thaie
r I read ; homo, I take it, is the best,
• valsrt] Or rather telan
170
THt VOKLD TOtr AT TtXITIS.
D scholar! ;
Sol. You*re inad fellom you scholari ; I'm per-
■naded,
Were I a scholar now, I could not want.
ScBo. Every man's mott capable of his own
grief:
A scholar aaid you ! why, there are none now-»-
dap:
Were you a scholar, you'd be a singular fellow.
Sol. How, nu scholars f what's become of Vm
all?
ScHO. ni make it proof from your experience:
A commander's a commander, captain captain;
But having no soldiers, where'* the command t
Such are we, all doctors, no disciples now ;
Every man's his own teacher, none learns of others.
You have not heard of our mechanic rabbies.
That shall dispute in their own tongues backwird
and forward
With all the learned fathers of Oie Jews r
Sol. Mechanic rabbies* what might tboae be f
ScHO. I'll sheif you, sir —
And they are men are daily to be seen —
There's rabbi Job a venerable silk-weaver,
Jehu a throwster' dwelling i' the Spttalfields,
There's rabbi Ahiroelceh a leamtKl cobbler.
Rabbi Lazaru* a superslichious* tailor;
These shall hold up their shuttles, needles, awls.
Against the gravest Levite of the land.
And give no ground neither.
Sol. That I believe:
They have no ground for any thing they do.
Scito. You understand right ; and these men, bj
practique,
a Unmittr] •' One that thnnrt, dt irindt, >ilk or thread "
J.prrpar
THE WOEID TOST AT TENNIS.
Have got the theory of all the arts
At their lingers' ends, and in ihal they'll live ;
Howe'er they'll die I know not, for they change
Sol. This i» strange; how come they to attain
this knonledge 1
ScHo. As boys learn arithmetic, — practice with
counters.
To reckon sums of silver ; so, with their tools,
They come to grammar, logic, rhetoric,
And all the sciences ; as, for example,
The devout weaver sits viithin his loom,
And thus he makes a learned syllogism, —
His woof the major and his narp the minor.
His shuttle then the brain and firm conclusion,
Makes him a piece of stuff that Arisioile,
Ramus, nor all the logicians can take a' pieces.
Sol, This has some likelihood.
Scuo. So likewise, by
His deep instructive and his mystic tools,
The tailor comes to be rhetorical :
First, on the spread velvet, satin, stuff, or cloth,
He chalks out a circumferent periphrase,"
That goes about the bush where the thief stands;
Then comes his shears in shape of an eclipsis.
And takes away (he other's' too long tail ;
By his needle he understands ironia.
That with one eye looks two ways at once ;
Metonymia ever at his fingers' ends;
Some ttall his pickadilM synecdoche,
But I think rather that should be his yard,
Being but pars pro loto ; and b
1 by metaphor
' ptrlphrait^ Old ed. " Paraplin
im] Old ed. "
-■i] Old ed. "
I pictadiU] i. e. collir with at
m
ms WOKLD TOiT AT TESVU.
All know the cellaridge under the sbop-bovd
He calls hi* hell, Dot that it is ■ place
Of spirits' abode, but that from that abyss
Is no recovery or redempiion
To any owner's hand, KJiBtever foils.
I could run further, Hcre't not tedious.
And place the stiff-toed cobbler iu his form ;
But let them mend themselves, for yet all's naught,
They now learn only never to be taught.
Sol- Let them alone ; bow shall we learn to live ?
ScHO. Without book is most perfect, for with
'em
We shall hardly : thou may'at keep a fence-school,
Tis a noble science.
Sol. I had rather be i' the crown-office :
Tliou mayesi keep school too, and do good aerrice,
To bring up chUdrcn for the next age better.
Sciio. 'Tis a poor living that's pick'd out of boys'
buttocks.
Soi.. 'Tia somewhat better than the night-farmer
yci.
Hftrk, what sounds are these f
IMus
Ther
Pallas deteendt,
. Ha \ there's somewhat more i
H in sight a presence glorious,^
e thar '
Sol. An amazing one!
Scholar, if ever thou couldst conjure, speak now.
Sciio. In name of all tlie deities, what art thou t
Thy shino is more than sub-celestial,
'Tis at llic loast heavenly -angelical.
P*i. A patroness unto ye both, yo ignorant
Mglvrimul Old ed, "glorious
K WORLD TOST AT TEN SIS.
173
mdeaerving ravourites of my fame. —
You are a soldier !
Sol. Since these arms could wield arms,
I have profess'd il, brightest deily,
Pai,. To thee I am Bellooa.— Vo.i are a aeholar ?
ScHo. In that poor pilgrimage, since I could go,
I hitherto have n-alk'd.
Pal. To thee I am Minerva ;
Pallas to both, goddess of arts and arms,
Of arms and arts, for neither have precedence,
For he's the complete man partakes of both,
The soul of arts join'd with the flesh of valour.
And he alone participates with me :
Thou art no soldier unless a scholar,
Nor thou a scholar unless a soldier,
Ve've noble breedings both, worthy foundationB,
And will ye build up rotten battlementB
On such fair groundsels? that will ruin all.
Lay wisdom on thy valour, on thy wisdom valour.
For these are mutual co-incidents. —
What seeks the soldier?
Sol. My maintenance.
Pal. Lay by thine arms and take the city then.
There's the full cup and cap of maintenance. —
And your grief is want too t
ScHO. I want all but grief
Pal. No, you want most what most you do pro-
fess i
Where read you to be ricji was happiest?
He had no bay from Phffibus, nor from rae,
That ever wrote so, no Minerva in him;
My priests have taught that poverty is safe,
Sweet and secure, for nature gives man nothing
At his birth ; when life and earth are wedded,
There's neither basin held nor dowry given ;
At parting nor is any garner slor'd.
Wardrobe or warehouse kept, for their retom :
Ulerefore ihall, then, man count hia Dijriadi
Of gold and silver idols, since ihriAy nainTC
Will nothing lend but she will have't again,
And life and labour for her interest T
My priests do teach, — seek thou thyself within.
Make thy Riiad wealthy, thy CMiscience knowing,'
And those shall keep thee company from hence.
Or would you wish to emulate the gods.
Live, as you may imagine, careless and free.
With joys and pleasures crown'd, and thosefterttal ?
This were to far exceed 'em ; for while earth last*.
The deities themselves abate their fulness.
Troubled with cries of ne'er- con ten ted man ;
Man then to seek and find it ; all that hope
Fled when Pandora's fatal box flew ope.
Sol, Lady divine," there's yet a competence
Which we come short of.
Pal. Thai may as well be caus'd
From your own negligence as our slow blessings;
But I'll prefer you to a greater power.
Even Jupiler himself," father and king of gods,
With whom I may well join in just compUuni.
These Uller ages have despoii'd my fame ;
Minerva's slurs are all ruin'd now :
I had a long-ador'd Palladium,
Offerings and incense fuming on my shrine ;
Rome held me dear, and old Troy gave roe wof-
All Greece renown'd me, till the Ida-prize
Join'd me with wrathful Juno to destroy 'em.
For we are better ruin'd than profan'd:
' rvneinci tm*™^] Old (d. " knotting conscience."
•■ Ladj, dimu] Old ed. ■■ Diuiiie Lady.''
• Umti(fl This word should, perhaps, be thiomi out.
THE WORLD TOST AT TBKKtS.
Now let the latter ages count the gains
They got by wanton Venus' sacrifice ;
But I'll invoke great Jupiter.
ScMo. Do, goddess,
And re-erect the ruins of thy fame.
For poesy can do it.
Pal. Ahitonaiil,"
Imperial-crown'd, and thunder-armed Jove,
Unfold thy fiery veil, the flaming robe
And superficies of thy better brightness ;
Descend from (hine orbicular chariot,
Listen the plaints of thy poor votaries I
'Tis Pallas calls, thy daughter, Jupiter,
Ta'en from thee by the Leranian Mulcibcr,
A midwife-god to the delivery
Of thy most sacred, fertile, teeming brain. — [il/unc.
Hark!
These sounds proclaim his willing sweet descent;
If not full blessings, expect some content.
Jupiter descends
Jlt, What would our daughter?
Pal. Just-judging Jove,
Y-ineditate" the suit of humble mortals.
By whose large sceptre all their fates are sway'd,
Adverse or auspicious.
Jve. 'Tis more than Jupiter
Can do to please 'em : unsatisfied man
Has in his ends no end ; not hell's abyss
Is deeper-guird than greedy avarice ;
Ambition finds no mountain high enough
For his aspiring foot to stand upon :
" .*WMi>aB(] i. e. thundering from on high.
' r-mdltalt] The light reading, 1 presume ; old ed. " I
meditate."
17fi
tAb wobld tost X
One drinks out all his bleitings into lurfnu,
Aoother throns 'em out as all were his.
And the gods bound for prodigal supply :
What is he lives content in any kind!
That long-incensed nature is now ready
To turn all back into the fruitless chaos.
Pal. These are mo noble virtues, tny dread ai
Both arts and arms, well-wishers unto Pallas.
Jcr. How can it be but they have both abua'd,
And would, for their ills, make our justice guilty t
Shew them their shames, Minerva ; what the Tonne
.0,1,1. '^ '
In her unstable youth, did then produce ;
She should grow graver now, more sage, more wise,
Know concord and the harmony of goodncM ;
But if her old age strike with harsher notes.
We may then think she is too old, and dotes.
Strike, by white art, a thcomsntic power.
Magic divine — not the devil's horror.
But the delicious music of the spheres —
The thrice-lhree Worthies summon hack to life ;
There let 'em see what arts and arms commixt —
For they had both — did in the world's broad ftoe:
Those that did propagate and beget their fames.
And for posterity left lasting names.
Pal. I shall, great Jupiter.
[Munc, and tk'tt Song at an invocation to thf
Nine MuKi, mho, in the linif, are diieoverrd,
nith the Nine WorthieM, on the upper-ttaee :"*
lorrard the concltuion they descend, each nor-
thy led by a Muse, the mottjpTojper end per-
tinent to the pernm 0/ the Worthy, at Titt-
paicHORE mth David, Ubania irifA Josbuii,
Tlu: Ftrit Song.
Muses, usher in those stales,'
And amongst 'em choose your mates ;
There wants not one, nor one to spare.
For thrice three both your numbers are:
Learning's mistress /air Calliope,
Load Euterpe, sneel Terpsichore,
Soft Thalia, sad Melpomene,
Pleasant Clio, large Erato,
High aspiring-ey'd Urania,
Honey-lingued* Polyhymnia,
Leave amhile your Thespian tprings.
And usher in those more than kings ;
We call them fVorthies, 'tis their due.
Though long time dead, still litre by you.
[Enter at the three several doors the Nine
Worthies, three after three, whom, as they
enter, pAttAs describes.
Pal. These three were Hebrews ;
This noble duke* was he at whose command
Hyperion rein'd his fiery coursers In,
And fixed stood over Mount Gilboa;
This Maitathias' son," the Maccabee,
Under whose arm no less than worthies fell ;
This the most sweet and sacred psalmograph :'
These, of another sort, of ranch less knowledge,
' italei] i. e. petion* of digilily.
■ Hmey-lingutd ] i.e. Honej-lcngued.
' duktl i. e. general, commander.
■' And in lyke wyie dakt JosHt the gcnle."
Hawei'B Pailime ef PUaiart, aig. C c ii. ed,
178 THE WOULD TOST AT TESItlt.
Little less valour, a Macedonian Lorn,*
Whom afterwards the world could scarcely bear
For his great weight in conquest ; ihii Troy's best
soldier/
This Rome's first CieBar : these three, of Isiter
And lo the present more familiar.
Great Charles of France^ and the bra»e Bulloin
duke;*
And ihia is Britain's glory,* king'd thirteen times. —
YeVe fair aspects : more to express Jove's power.
Shew you have motion for a jovial hour.
[The Nine Worthiei dance,*' and then exetml,
Jup. Were not these precedents for all future
agei
ScHo. But none attains their glories, king of
stars ;
These are the fames are follon'd and pursu'd.
But never overtaken.
Jup. The fate's below.
The god's arras are not ehorten'd, nor do we shine
With fainter influence ; who conquers now
Makes it his tyrant's prize, and not his honour'si
Abusing all the blessings of the gods ;
Ijcarnings and arts are theories, no practiques,
To understand is all they study to ;
Men strive to know too much, too little do.
Sol. Plaints arc not ours alone, great Jupiter ;
" a Maadaiiian torn] i. e. Alexander the GreiL
• TVpy'i be4l leUier] i. o. Hector.
r Charlti ^ Franai i. e. ChirlemagDe.
■ BulhiH duke"] L e. Oodltey of Bouillon.
* BHIain'igltiry] i.e. Arthur.
'' Tht Nine tforlhiti dance, Kc] Q)i. (lid ihe autbon ioleDj
them ID dance with Ihe Muieit but in the preceding atage-
direciion (which I hsie gWcn i> it aiaadi in old cd.) the
« uf the laller ia not marked.
17!
See, Time himself
Time. Who has
Who more wrong'd than Ti
Enter Jiiitz.
■omes weeping.
! Time passes
With a regardleBs eye at best; the worst
Expect him with a greedy appetite ;
The landed lord looks for his quarter-day.
The big-bellied usurer for his teeming gold,
That brings him forth the child of interest.
He that, beyond the bounds of heaven's large
ble».ing,
Hath made a fruitless creature to increase.
Dull earthen minerals to propagate ;
These only do expect and entertain me,
But being come, they bend their plodding heads,
And while they count their bags they let me pass,
Yet instant wish me come about again ;
Would Time deserve their thanks, or Jove their
He must turn time only to quarter-days.
O, but my wrongs they arc innumerable !
The lawyer drives me off from term to term,
Bids me — and I do't — bring forth ray Alethe,
My poor child Truth, he sees and will not see her ;
What I could manifest in one clear day,
He still delays a cloudy jubilee :
The prodigal wastes and makes me sick with sur-
feits .
The drunkard, strong in wine,
And sets me lopsy-turvy on n
Waking my silent passage in t
With revels, noise, and thundt
And snorting on my bright mi
And when they think I pass loo slowly by,
night
clapping oaths.
-found vapo
r to e
xpel me,
out : ask 'em
but V
hy they do
St can speak
yet til
s can say,
to drive the
ime a
way.
oral), wome
n do hale me !
cssion on th
irche
eks
rcular hours
day
, months.
ISO THE WOBLD
They have
They Bfflok
And he tha
I take this
O. but the
I cannot aei
With all my circular hours, days, months, and
But 'tis wip'd ofTwith gloss and pencilry ;
Nothing so hateful as gray hairs and lime,
Rather no hair at all. 'Tis sin's autumn now
For those fair trees that were more fairer cropt,
Or they fall of themselves, or will be lopt :
Even Time itself, lo number all his griefs,
Would waste himself unto his ending date.
How many would eternity wish here,
And that the sun, and time, and age, might stand.
And leave their annual distinction,—
That nature were bed-rid, all motion sleep!
Time having then such foes, has cause to weep. —
Redress it, Jupiter. [£xif,
Jtip. I tell thee, glorious daughter, and you,
things
Shut up in wretchedness, the world knew once
His age of happiness, blessed times own'd him.
Till those two ugly ills, Deceit and Pride,
Made it a perish'd substance. Pride brought in
Forgetfulness of goodness, merit, virtue,
And plac'd ridiculous officers in life.
Vain-glory, fashion, humour, and such toys.
That shame to be ptoduc'd ;
The frenzy of apparel, that's run mad.
And knows not wiere to settle : masculine painting,
And the five Starches, mocking the five senses,
All in their difierent and ridiculous colours;
Which, for their apish and fantastic follies,
THE WORLD T08T AT TENNIS.
I
With
ofthci
us, nntl will Tit 'i
[_Miuic Mtriking up a light fantattie air, the Five
Starches, While, Blue, YelloK, Green, and
Red, all properly habited to erpreti their
affected colours,^ come dancing in : and ajler
a ridiculous tlrain, White Starch challenging
precedency, standing upon her right by anti-
quity, out of her just anger presents their
pride to them.
WjiiTB S. What, no respect amongst yoii ? must
In your forgetrul duties? jet'' before me!
Take place of me ? — You, rude, presumptuous gos-
sip,
Pray, who am I ! not 1 the primitive Starch ?
You, blue-ey'd frokin,* looks like 6re and brlm-
You, caudle- col our, much of tlie complexion
Of high Sh rove-Tuesday batter," yellow-hammer; —
And you, my tanzy-face, that shews like pride
Serv'd up in sorrel-sops, green-sickness baggage ; —
And last, thou Red Starch, that wear'st all thy
blushes
Under thy cheeks, looks like a strangled moon-calf,
With all thy blood settled about thy neck,
The ensign of thy shame, if ihou hadst flny, —
Know I'm Starch Protestant, thon Starch Puritan
With the blue tiostril, whose tongue lies i' thy nose.
Blue S. Wicked interpretation!
Yel. S. I ha' known
^ K(] i. e. I
E. the colours wUitb they nffecl ; com-
IBS
THE womiA To*T *T TtTnca,
A fthile-tc'd hypocriie, hJtj unctitj —
A jellow ne'er came oc« Iict — and tfa'aa beea
But ibc devil's pnnk* not nglin' ; m ber miad
Wean vrltow. hugi ■^ if ber haabnkd'* tnde
CcHild bear it, iherc's the spile ; bat noce the cu
Wear ber own Hiicn yellow, yet sbe shews
Her love lo't, and makes him wear veltow boae-*
OaiEK S. I as 7
Red S. And I a
The world can bring npoa u
J censures, all the argnoMnts
e applied.
i' the colour, but tbe pride.
Tm OTHEB SriWTHES. Oracle Yellow!
[ TJLe Sl^rciet damrt, mul exttmt.
Jvr. Tb«« are the rouDgcsi daughters of Deceit^
With which the precious lime of life's begyird,
Pool'd, and abus'd; 111 shew you ilra^ht tbeii
failtrr.
Hb sbspes, his labours, tlial has vex'd the world
FroiD age to age,
And lost it from his first and simple stale
To ihr foul centre where it now abides:
Look back but into times, bere shall be shewn
How manv strange removes the world has known.
[LomI Mwnc aoioidn^, JcFtTca Uartt kit ttttte .-'
amd to (Aew lie itntngt rrmor^t of the mtrU,
i pbrtfttw aad oBDopy uadn which the enMmaari
THE WORLD TOST AT TENNIS. 133
places ike orb whote Jigurc it heart in the
midst of the stage ; to which Simplicity, &y
onler of time having Jirst access, enters.
Pal. Who's this, greal Jupiter?
Jup. Simplicity,
He that had first possession ; one that stumbled
Upon tlie world and never minded it.
Siu. Hah, hah! I'll go sec how the world looks
since I slept aside from't; there's such heaving and
shoving about it, such toiling and moiling; — now 1
stumbled upon't when I least thought on't. {Takes
up the orb.'\ Uds me! 'tis altered of one side since
I lefl it: hah, there's a milkmaid got with child
since, methinks ; what, and a shepherd forsworn
himseir? here's a foul corner : by this light, Subtlety
has laid an egg too, and will go nigh to hatch a
lawyer; this was well foreseen, I'll mar the fashion
on't ; so, the egg's broke, and 't has a yolk as black
as buckram. What's here a' (his side ? O, a dainty
world! here's one a-sealing with his tooth, and,
poor man, he has but one in all ; I was afraid he
would have left it upon the paper, he was so
honestly earnest. Here are the reapers singing,
I'll lay mine ear to 'em.
Enter Deceit, like a ranger.
Deceit. Vender's Simplicity, whom I hate deadly.
Has held the world too long ; he's but a fool,
A toy will coBen him : if 1 once fasten on't,
I'll make It such a nursery for hell.
Planting black souls in't, it shall ne'er be fit
For Honesty to set her simples in. [^j4side.
chair wai placed, e
B. JoHBon'a Iforks. vol, ii. p. 334. Here, perUapa, it mea
■be michiag in whicb Jupiter had deiceuded : see p. 175.
184
T AT TEKNia.
SiH. Whoop, here's the cozeniag'st rascal In a
Tlie master- villain ; has the thunder's property,
For if he come but near the horTest-folkB,
His breath's so strong that he sours all their bottles.
If he should but blow upon the world now, the
stain would never get out again; I warrant, if he
were ript, one might find a swarm of usurers in his
liver, a cluster of scriveners in his kidneys, and his
very puddings stuft with bailiffs. [Aiide.
Dec. 1 must speak fair to the fool. [Atide,
Sim. He makes more near me. [.liiide.
Dec. 'Las, who has put that load, that carriage,
On poor Simplicity ? had they no mercy ?
Pretty, kind, loving worm; come, let me help it.
Sim. Keep off, and leave your cogging.^ — Foh,
how abominably he smells of controversies, schisms,
and factions ! niethinks 1 smell forty religions ti
s full o
eyes look
[Atide.
■nder thing,
gether in him, and ne'er a good
like false lights, cozening trap-'
Dec. The world, sweetheart,
troubles.
No match for thee ; thou art a
A harmless, quiet thing, a gentle fool,
Fit for the fellowship of ewea and ran
Go, take thine ease and pipe ; give me the burdi
The clog, the torment, the heart-break, the world]
Here's for thee, lamb, a dainty
Siu. Pox a' your pipe! if I should dance atter
your pipe, 1 should soon dance to the devil.
Dec. I think some serpent, sure, has lick'd him
And given him only crai^ enough to keep,
• CBgi^il •■ •■ wheedling.
^B
THE WOBLD TOST AT TENNIS.
186 ^
And go no farlhcr with liitn ; all ihe rest
1
1
1 must
seek other course ; for 1 have learn'd
or ray
infernal sire not to be lazy.
1
Faint,
ar discourag'd, at the tenth repulse:
1
Methinbs ihai world Simplidiy now hugs fast, |
Doesl
ok as ifi should be Deceit's at last.
1
[/iside, and exit. 1
Sim.
So, so, I'm clad he's vanished: methouchl ■
I had mucli ado to keep myself from a amatch of ■
knaver
V, as long as he stood by nie ; for cer
ainly H
yiUany
is infectious, and in the greater perse
nthe ■
greate
poison ; as, for example, he that lakes but ■
the lick of a citizen may take the scab of a cou
Hark.
the reapers begin to sing ! they're
come 1
nearer
niethinka, too.
The SecomI Song.
Happy times me live to tee,
WhoM master is Simplicity;
This it the age where blessings JUm,
In joy we reap, in peace me tons ;
We do good deeds without delay.
i
We prmaite and me keep our day ;
^^^1
We love for virtue, Ttotfor nealth.
We drink no healths, but all for health ;
We ting, we dance, me pipe, we play.
Out work's continual holyday ;
We live in poor contented sort.
Yet neither beg nor come at court.
Siu
These reapers have the merriest lives
they
haven
uaic to all they do ; they'll sow with a
tabor,
and get children with a pipe.
Enter a King tvith Deceit.
De
. Sir, he'a a fool, the world belongs to
you;
A iijii iwdlfnMtlyi
IMd^
[.*«*■-
IlVBOilaraf!
So. ikn'i a I
I Jtaow MK what ta uj to't.
KivA. WkM's tky Mae!
Soi. Yoa aisT raid it in mjt iookM, Skiiplidty.
Kne. WkM nak'tt ibos wiA m> gnu a efaarne
■boutbc*!
Rcsip i(«pn>iBe,Mkd W bj fboL
Suf. Traik, that's tbe wajr to be TtMU- Tool in-
deed;
Bat kliall I have tbe privilege to ibol freelj T
Kiao. A* ever taHiy had.
fSiMruciTT fi(«t tie art l» King,
Sim. I'm glad I'ln rid on'i.
Dec. Pra*. let me ease your majesty.
KiKo. Tlioa ! hence,
Ba*e kycophani, Jnainuatirig hell-hound!
Lay not a finger on it, as thou lov'st
Th« itaie or ihy whole body : all <hy filthy
And ratien llalleries stink i' my rememhrance.
And nothing la to loathsome as thy presence.
KiM. Sure ihis will prove a good prince ! Ijltide.
Dec. Still repula'd !
1 muit find ground to thrive on. [v<rirfe, and exil.
Sim. I'ray, remember now
THE WORLD TOST AT TENKIS. 187
You bad the vorld from me clean as a pick,
Only a little smutted a' one side
With a bastard got against it, or sucb a toy ;
No great corruption nor oppression in'l.
No knavery, tricks, nor cozenage.
KiNQ. Thou say'st true, fool ; the world baa a
Siu. Make as few laws as you can then to
trouble it.
The fewer the better ; for always the more laws
you innke.
The more knaves thrive by't, mark it when you
Kino. Thou'at counsel i' thee loo I
Sim. a litile, "gainst knavery; I'm such an enemy
Tbat it comes naturally from me to confound it.
Kino. Look, what are those 1
Siu. Tents, tents ; that part o' the world
Shews like a fair ; but, pray, take notice on't.
There's not a bawdy booth amongst 'em all ;
You have 'em while and honest as I had 'em.
Look tbat your laundresses pollute 'em not,
KiKO. How pleasantly the countries He about,
Of which we are sole lord ! What's that i' the
middle ?
SiHP. Looks like a point, you mean, a very
King. Ay, that, that,
■ 'Tia the beginning of An
iterdam ; they say
the first brick there was laid with fresh cheese a
cream, because morlar made of lime and hair v
wicked and committed fornication.
Kino. Peace; who are these approaching?
Siu. Blustering fellows:
The first's a soldier, be looks just like March.
188
THE WORLD T
Enter a Land-Captain, with Deceit at a toldter.
Dec. Captain, 'tis you that have the bloody
sneais,
You venture life and limbs ; 'tis you that taste
The stings of thirst and hunger.
L.-Cap. There thou hast nain'cl
Afflictions sharper ihon the enemy's swords.
Dec, Yet lets another carry away the world,
or which by right you are the only master ;
Stand curtsying for your pay at your return —
Perhaps with wooden legs — to every groom.
That dares not look foil right upon a sword,
Nor upon any wound or slit of honour.
L.-Cap. No more ; I'll be myself: 1 that uphold
Countries and kingdoms, must I halt downright.
And be propt up with part of mine own strength.
The least part too? why, have not I the power
To make myself stand absolute of myself,
That keep up others J
Kino. How cheers our noble captain t
L.-Cap. Our own captain,
No more a hireling : your great foe's at hand,
Seek your defence elsewhere, for mine shall fail
iih death and danger
the world kept from me;
nd in that agony,
le, forc'd to wade
I'll not be fellow-yok'd
All my life-tinue, and ha
March in the heat of si
A furnace girt about me.
With so much fire within
Through a cool river, pre _
The very pains of hell, now scorch'd, now shivering,
To call diseases early into my bones.
Before I've age enough to entertain 'em :
No, he that has desire to keep the world.
Let him e'en take the sour piiins to defend it.
THE WORLD TOST AT TENNIS. 189
KiNOt Stay, man of merit, it belongs to thee)
\_Gives the orb to Land-Ca^tm.
I cheerAilly resign it ; all my ambition
Ib but the quiet calm of peaceful days.
And that fair good I know thy arm will raise.
L.^Cap. Though now an absolute master, yet to
Ever a faithful servant, \_Exit King.
Dec. Give't me, sir, to lay up; I am your trea-
In a poor kind.
L.-Cap. In a false kind, I grant thee:
Hon niany vild-l complaints, from time to time.
Have* been put up against thee ? they have wearied
me
More than a battle sixteen hours a-ligliting;
I've beard (he ragged regiment so curse thee,
I look'd next day for leprosy upon thee,
Or puffs of pestilence as big as wens.
When thou wouldst drop asunder like a thing
Inwardly eaten, thy akin only whole :
AvaunI, defrauder of poor soldiers' rights.
Camp-caterpillar, hence ! or I will send thee
To make their rage a breakfast.
Dec. Is it possible?
Can I yet set no footing in the world?
I'm angry, but not weary : I'll hunt out still ;
For, being Deceit, I bear the devil's name.
And he's known seldom to give o'er his game.
[_AiiJe, and exit.
Sim. Troth, now the world begins to be in huck-
sters' handling : by this light, the booths are full of
cutlers ! and yonder's two or three queans going
* Han] 01ded.'"UM."
190 TBI waau) tost at mnns.
to victHil ibe camp ; hab ! •ronld I wwe irlnpt, if
jonder be not a panon's daogbtn with « xri^er
betwecD her Icgi, bag and baggage !
Sol. Now 'tis the soldier'* tine ; great Jupiter,
Now gtre rae leave to enier od mj fortuees.
The world's oor own.
Jdf. Stay, begnil'd thing : thia tine
la many ages discrepant from thine ;
ThU was the leaaon when descn was stoopt to.
By greatness stoopt to, and acknowledg'd greaieat;
But in thy time now desert stoops itself
To every baseness, and makes saints of shadows :
Be patient, anil ob serve how times are wrought.
Till it comes down to ibine, (bat rewards nought.
IChambcrt' that t^mitkiM.
kt^% } ^'^ • "^"'" ^'^ ■'^"' '
Enter a Sea-Captain, Kith Deceit at a purter.
S.-Cap. Be ready, if ! call, to give fire to the
ordnance.
StM. Bless lis all ! here's one spits fire as he
comes ; he will go nigh to mull the world with
looking on it: how his eyes sparkle!
Dxc. Shall the Land- Cap tain, sir, usurp your
right ?
Yours, that try thousand dangers to his one.
Rocks, shelves, gulfs, quicksands, hundred, hundred
horrors.
That make" the landmen tremble when they're
(old,
Besides the enemy':
■ Cfiamberi] 1. e. «inBll pieces uf ordnance.
■ maiti Old ed. " makea."
THE WORI.B TOST AT TESNIS. 191
Purser, no more; I'm vex'd, I'm kindleil. — You,
Land-Captain, quick deliver.
L.-Cap. Proud salt-rover.
Thou hast the salutation of a thier.
S.-Cap. Deliver, or I'll thunder thee a-piecea,
Make night within this hour, e'en at high noon,
Belch'd from the cannon : dar'st expostulate
With me f my fury ? what's thy merit, land-worm,
That mine not centuples ?
Thy lazy marches and safe- footed battles
Are but like dangerous dreams to my encounters;
Why, every minute the deep gapes for me.
Beside the fiery throats of the loud fight ;
When we go to't and our fell ordnance play,
'Tia like the figure of a latter day :
Let me but give the word, night begins now,
Thy breath and prize both beaten from thy body :
How dar'st thou be so alow 1 not yet ? then
L.-Cap. Hold ! [Gires the orb to Sea-Captam.
Dec. I knew 'twould come at last. [Ande,
S.-Cap. For this resign,
Part thou shalt have still, but the greatest mine;
Only to us belongs the golden sway ;
Th' Indies load uk, thou liv'st but by thy pay.
Dec, And shall your purser help you ?
S.-Cap. No, in sooth, sir :
Coward and cozener, how many sea-battles
Hast thou compounded to be cabled up ?
Yet, when the fights were ended, who so ready
To cast aick soldiers and dismember'd wretches
Over-board instantly, crying, Away
With things without arms ! 'tis an ugly sight ;
When, troth, thine own should have been off by
right ;
But thou lay'st safe within a wall of hemp,
Telling the guns, and numbering 'em with farting.
Leave me, and s|>eedily ; I'll hsre thee ra
Into a culverin else, and lliy rear" flesh
Shot all into poach'd eggs.
Destruction plays in me
That I would purchase il
Lich plcasanl
w. , any pa
I worthy: 1 i
Both to defend and enrich majesty.
Sim. Hoyday ! I can see nothing n
Hark a' the n '
hipa;
The Third Song.
Hey, the irorliTi oart, rve hate got the time by chance:
Let uf then carouse and ting, Jar the eery haute doth
skip and dance
That tee do hok liee in ;
JVe have the merriett live$,
We have the fruitfuU'tt nivei
Of all men;
We never yet came home.
But the fir it hour we come
We find them all tcith child agen."
\_A thout within : enter two Marinern with
pipe and can, dancing severally fig lunt
Jot joy the world is come into their
hands ; then exeunt.
Sim. What a crew of mad rascah are ihese !
they're ready at every can to fall into the had-
docks' mouths : the world begins to love lap now.
THE WORLD TOST AT TENNIS. 193
Enter a Flamen, mth Deceit like a ."
Flah. Peace and the brightness of a holy love
Reflect their beauties on you I
S.-Cap. Who is this?
L.-Cap. a reverend shape !
S.-Cap, Some scholar.
L.-Cap. A divine one!
S.-Cap. He may be what he will for me, fellow-
captain,
For I've seen no church these five-and- 1 wenly years, —
I mean, as people ought to see it, inwardly.
Flau. I have a virtuous sorrow for you, sir.
And 'tis my special duty to neep for you;
For to enjoy one world aa you do there,
And be forgetful of another, sir —
O, of a better millions of degrees! —
It is a frailty and intirinity
That many tears must go for, — all too little.
What ia't to be the lord of many battles.
And suffer to be overrun within you ?
Abroad to conquer, and be slaves at home?
Remember there's a battle to be fought,
Which will undo you if it be not thought;
And you must leave that world, leave it betimes.
That reformation may weep off" the crimesr
There's no indulgent hand the world should hold.
But a strict grasp, for making sin so bold ;
We should be careless of it, and not fond ;
Of things so held there is the best command.
S.-Cap. Grave sir, I give thy words their de-
serv'd honour,
And to thy sacred charge freely resign
Alt that my fortune and the age made mine.
[Gives the orb to Flamen.
» fl ] So olJ ed.
THE WORLD TOST AT TENNIS, 195
devil's ai home ? These greal rich men must take
their ease i' their inn:P they'll waJk you a long
mile or two to gel a siomach for their victuals, but
not a piece of a furlong lo get an appetite to their
[_FlouT'uh.
prayi
Re-enter King
Ik a Lawyer, and Deceit as a
pettifogger.
Law. No more, the case is clear.
SiK. 'Slid, who have we here ?
Law. He thai pleads for the world must fall to
Roundly. — Most gracious and illustrious prince.
Thus stands the case,— the world in Greek is cosmoi,
In Latin mundus, in law-French la monde ;
We leave the Greek, and come to the law-French,
Or glide upon the Latin ; all's one business :
Then unde mundu* ? shall we come to that 7
Nonne derivatur a munditia ?
The word cleanness, mundus quasi mundus, clean ;
And what can cleanse or mundify the world
Better than law, the clearer of all cases,
The sovereign pill, or potion, that expels
All poisonous, rotten, and infectious wrongs
From the vex'd bosom of the commonwealth ?
There's a familiar phrase implies thus much—
I'll put you to your purgation, — thai is.
The law shall cleanse you. Can the sick world then,
ToBl up and down from time to time, repose ilself
In a physician's hand belter improv'd ?
Upon my life and reputation.
In all the courts 1 come at, be assur'd
I'll make it clean.
' r their ink] i. e. in their own bouie : concerning tliit
provpTbial expreiiion, lee Dole* on Shakeipcare'i Btitru If.
(riril Pari), act iii. ic. 3.
19fi THB WOILS TftCT AT TSinais.
Sim. Ym, elesn »w*]r, 1 wamni you ;
W« >IwlU ne'er aec't iftaiD.
Law. I grant mj fiii» are bitter, mj, and «NtIjr,
But Aeu effect* arc rare, diTtDc, and whoUgoiiie ;
CtfpMX pott f, and an A'c exiat rtgmo :
1 grant iberc'* bitter egrinKNij'' in 'em.
And it works precioiulr : who ejects injaries,
M^ea 'era bejcli forth m Tomit, but the Uw T
Who clear* the widow's use. and after gets h«r.
If she be wealthj, but the adeocate !
Tbeo, lo coodnde,
If jrou'll hare mmatAa m ammdc dean, firm.
Give hiu to me, I'll scour bim every term.
Flam. I pan with't gUdly, talte't into ihy trust,
[(iir«t tite orb lo Laityer,
So will it thrive as thy JRtent is just.
Dtc. Pity your tramplcr.^ sir, your poor solicitor.
Law. Thee F infamy to our profession.
Which, without wTODg lo truth, next the divine one,
Is the most grsTo and hooonrable function
That giTM m kiBgdooo Uesi : but thou, the poison,
DiaeaM thM grows doae to the heart of law.
And KMk'u T«sti nnsurer* think the sound part
pcriih'd :
Thou fonl <>cUpse, that, interposit^ equity.
Ax ihodark earth the mooo. mak'M the world judge
That blackness aitd comptioa hare poasess'd
Tint silver shine of justice, when "its only
The snwke ascetMling from thy poisonous ways,
Caaena)CPt domurss and filteen-ipftn delays :
Yet hold thee, lake the uuck on*t, that's thine own.
THE WOELD TOST AT lENN
107
ind all ; but the fair fame and honour
d men's prayers and nisheit,
The devil a
Ofrightef
Which is thai glorious portion of the world
The noble lawyer strives for, — that thy bribery,
Thy double-handed gripe, shall never reach to :
With fat and filthy gain thy lust may feasi,
But poor men's curses beat thee from the rest.
Dec. I'll feed upon the muck on't, that awhile
Shall satisfy my longings ; wealth is known
The absolute step to all promotion.
Kino. Let this be call'd the sphere of harmony,
In which, being met, let's all move mutually.
Law, \ Fair love is i' the motion, kingly
Plah., ^e.j love!
[/n Ihii last dance, a> an ease to memory, all the
former revwvet come close together; (Ae Devil
entering, aims with Deceit at the irorld ; but
the rrorld remaining now in the Lanyer't
poisession, he, expressing his reverend and
noble acknowledgment to the absolute pomer if
majesty, resigns it loyally to its royal govern-
ment; Majesty lo Valour, I'alour to Lore again,
Law to Religion, Religion to Sovereignty,
where itfrmly and fairly settles, the Lam con-
founding Deceit, and the Church the DEVit.
Flam. Times suffer changes, and the world has
been
Vex'd with removes ; but when bis glorious peace
Firmly and fairly settles, here's his place,
Truth his defence, and majesty his grace. —
We all acknowledge it belongs to you-
S."„.,.*j0"'!"°J°»."i''
[They all deliver the orb up to the King.
Flam. Regis ad exemphm totus componitur orbis,
Which shews,
108 THE WORLD TOSI AT TENNIS.
That if ihe world form iiself by the king,
'Tin fit the former should comtnand the thing.
Dec. This is no place for iia.
Devil. Depart, away !
I thought all these had been
No court of virtues, but a guard of devils.
lExeunt Deceit and the Devil.
King. How blest am I in subjects ! here are those
That make all kingdoms happy, — worthy Soldier,
Fair Churchman, and thou, uncorrupted Lawyer,
Virtue's great miracle, that hast redeem'd
All justice from her ignominious name.
Sim. You forget me, sir.
King. What, Simplicity!
Who thinks of virtue cannot forget tliee.
Sim. Ay, marry, my masters, now it looks like a
brave world indeed ; how civil1y'< those fair ladies
go yonder ! by this hand, they are neither trimmed,
nor trussed, nor poniarded / wonderment I O, yon-
der's a knot of fine, sharp- needle -bearded gallants '
but that they wear stammel' cloaks, tnethinks, in
stead of scarlet: 'slid, what's he that carries ou
two custards now under the porter's long nose
O, he leaves a bottle of wine V the lodge, and all'
pacified ; cry mercy.
KiKo. Continue but thus watchful o'er yourselvCE
1 einillt/'] i. G. soberly, plainly drcil : compare yo\. iv. p. SOS,
' poniarded] Poniitrdg, or, as ihey were generally called,
knives, were formerly, sayg CifTard, " vorn at all times by
every woman in England;" see note on B. Jonson'a H'wki,
voL r. p. 221.
' ncedlt-beardtd gallanti] Taylor, the urnler-poel, in a pas-
sage concerning tlie " alrange and variable cut" ofbeirdr
inentiom " Some sharpe Sicleiio foihion, dagger like." Su
tvrbiit Ftagitlim, p. 3i-^Warket, I(i30.
' uamtHtt\ i. e. ■ kind of red, coaner and cheaper than
r AT TENNIS.
19!
That the great cunning enemies, Deceit,
And his loo-mighty lord, beguile you rot,
And ye're the precious ornftments of state,
The glories of the world, fellows to virtues,
Masters of honest and well-purchaa'd fortunes.
And T am fortunate in your partnership;
But if you ever make your hearts the houses
Of falsehood and corruption, ugh'ness itself
Will be a beauty to yoti, and less pointed at:
Spots in deformed faces are scarce noted,
Fair checks are stain'd if ne'er so little blotted.
L*w. lEver the constant servants to gtcnt
Flak.,4c| virtue!
Kino. Her love inhabit yoti !
l^Exeunt all except Jupitek, Pallas, SoldleT,
and Scholar.
Jiip. Now, sons of vexation,
Envy, and discontent, what blame lay you
Upon these times now ? which does merit most
To be condemn'd, your dulness or the age?
If now you thrive not, Mercury shall proclaim
You're undeservers, and cry down your lame.
Be poor still, scholar, and thou, wretch despis'd.
If in this glorious time thou canst not prosper.
Upon whose breast noble employments sit.
By honour's hand in golden letters writ;
Nay, where the prince' of nobleness himself
Proves our Minerva's valiant'st, hopefull'st son,
And early in his spring puts armour on.
Unite your worths, and make of two one brother.
And be each one perfection to the other ;
Scholar and soldier must both shut in one.
That makes the absolute and complete man :
So, now into the world; which, if hereatler
' Ihr prince] i. e. Charlet
200 THE wosu) nwT AT TSjrxn.
Yov erer tax of (onl, •^ruefol crimes.
Your dnlnie** I iBtDii ponuli. not the times.
«^ j BoooitT lo nuglity JDpit« I
[Jt^rrrtk amJ Paiaas atcemL
Sol. The world
Is IB ■ good butd now, if it bold, brotber.
ScBO. I hope, for raaoy agea.
Soi- tmre thee well, then ;
111 over ]ronder* to the most glorioiu w«rs
That e'er fam'd Chrisiian kingdom.
ScBo. And ni settle
Here, tti a land of a most glorious peice
Tliat eter made joy fruitful, where the head
Of him that rulei, to learning's fair renowu,
la doubly dccbt with laurel" and a crown,
And both most worthily.
Sol. Give me thy hand,
Prosperiiy keep with thee !
ScHo. And the glory
Of noble actions bring while hair* upon thee!
Present our with with reverence to this place.
For here't must be confirm'd, or 't has no grace.
[_Exeunt seceraUy.
< ril mrr gander. Sec] He meant to ihe Palilinale : gmt 1
enlhuiiuni «a« felt in tbe came of the unrorlunnle Queen of
HnheTniiL Some pataiee*, gierbipi, were inserted bete sub- 1
*ei]ilenli)> to (he origins production of the Masque : cee note,
11. 167.
* dfckl with laurtf] James was iccustomeil to receire lUch
incrnae.
" There he beholds a hijth and iclonoiis Throne,
Whur« siu a King hy Laurtll Carlanda knonne.
I.ikg hriK'n Apollo in the Muies qiiirei."
Sir J. Ueaumonl't Boiwartli-field, p. S, ed. 1839.
See aliu II. Jonson't tVerk; vol. viii. p. 15*, and CiSbrd'i
THE WORLD TOST AT TENNIS.
201
EPILOGUE.
Gentlemen,
We must confess that we have vented ware
Not always vendable : masques are more rare
Than plays are common ; at most but twice a-year
In their most glorious shapes do they appear ;
Which, if you please accept, we'll keep in store
Our debted loves, and thus entreat you more ;
Invert the proverb now, and suffer not
That which is seldom seen be soon forgot.
PART OF THE ENTERTAINMENT
TO KING. JAMES, &c.
The Magn^ent Entertainment : Giuen to King James, Queene
Anne his totfe, and Henry Frederick the Prince, vpon the day of
his Maiesties Tryumphant Passage (from the Tower) through his
Honourable Citie (and Chamber) of London, being the 15. of
March. 1603. As well by the English as by the Strangers: With
the speeches and Songes, deliuered in the seuerall Pageants,
Mart, Templa Deis, mores populis dedit, otiaferro,
Astra suis, Calo sydera, serta Joui.
Tho, Dekker,
Imprinted at Ltmdon by T, C, for Tho, Man the yonger. 1604.
4to.
Of this pageant (which is reprinted in Nichols's Prog, of
King James, vol. i. p. 337f) Middleton wrote only the speech
of Zeal (see p. 210) ; but in order to make that speech in-
telligible, I have given a portion of the prose description
which precedes it.
VOL. V.
PART OF THE
ENTERTAINMENT TO KING JAMES,
Our next arch at triumph wbh erected above the
Conduit in Fleet Street, into which, as into the
long and beauteous gallery of the city, his Majesty
being entered, afar oiF— as if it had been some
swelling promontory, or rather, some enchanted
castle guarded by ten thousand harmless spirits —
did his eye encounter another tower of pleasure
Presenting itself,
Fourscore and ten foot in height, and firty in
breadth ; the gate twenty foot in the perpendicular
line, and fourteen in the ground line : the two pos-
terns were answerable to these that are set down
before : over the posterns, viz. up in proportionable
measures, two turrets with battlements on the tops.
The middest of the building was laid open to the
world, and great reason it should be so, for the
Globe of the world was there seen to move, being
filled with all the degrees and states that are in the
land ; and these were the mechanical and dead
limbs of this carved body. As touching those that
had the use of motion in it, and for a mind durst
have spoken, but that there was no stuff fit for
iheir mouths,
The principal and worthiest was Astr«a (Jus-
tice), Bitting aloft, as being newly descended from
SOS
r*XT OV TBS
I
bMTCD, gloriously animl, mil her gimeiitt being
ihickly strewed with sun; a ctowd of con on
her hemd, a silver veD corniag her eyes. HsTtng
told you ihai her Dame was Jintice> I hope you
will not put me to describe what properties' she
held in her hands, sitheoee^ every painted cloth*
can inform you.
Directly under ber, in a cant'' by herself, wu
AxBTB (Virtue), enthroived, her garments white,
her head crowned : and under her, Fobtdna, ber
foot tieadine on the Globe that moved beneath her,
intinuting that bis Majesty's fortune wu above the
world, but his virtues above his fortuoe.
iHTTDtA,
Envy, UDbandsomely attired all iti black, her hair
of the same colour, filleted about with snakes,
stood in a dark and obscure place fay herself, near
unto Virtue, but making shew of a fearfulneu
to approach ber and the light, yet itill and anon
casting her eyes sometimes to the one side beneath,
where, on sereral greeces,* sat the Four Cnrdtnal
rJcsTiTii, "1
yj J FOETITDDO, I
■ I TEKfEaAMTtA,
and sometimes throwing a distorted and repining
countenance to the other opposite seat, on which
his Majesty's Pour Kingdoms were advanced.
:o bcT chancier — ■ thos-
{Ekoland,
Scotland,
all of lliem in rich robes and mantles ;~ crowns on
their heads, and sceptres with penciled^ acutclieona
in their hands, lined with the coaia of the particular
kingdoms. For very madness that she beheld these
glorious objects, she stood feeding on the heads of
adders.
The Fouft Elements, in proper shapes.^ arti-
ficially and nptly expressing their qualities, upon
the approiich of his Majesty went round tn a pro-
portionable and even circle, touching that cantle*^
of the Globe (which was open) to the full view of
his Majesty: which being done, they bestowed
themselves in such comely order, and stood so as
if the eronie' had been held up on the tops of their
fingers.
Upon distinct ascensions, tieaily raised within
the hollow womb of the Globe, ^vere placed all the
states of the land, from the nobleman to the plough-
man, among whom there was not one word to be
heard, for you must imagine, as Virgil snith,
a./ja«
that it n
rge, rcdeunt SalHrnla regna,
r the golden world, in which there
dravne a Kose," &c.
— haviag pttiiih, Bmall flogt,
r passage of Ihil pHgpanl ; "
indei ptnfild Shieldes i vpoii thf Ural
All the tongues that neat in l1
toDgue of Zeal, whose personage
Vi. Bourne, one of the servants
PriDce ;
And thus went his Speech.
The populous globe of this oor English isle
Seem'il lo move backward at the funeral pile
Of her dead female majesty ; all iiates,
From nobles down to spirits of meaner fates,
Alov'd opposite to nature and to peace,
As if these men had been th' Antipodes:
But see the virtue of a regal eje,
Th' aliractive wonder of man's majesty !
Our Globe is drawn in a right line agen,'
And now appear nen' faces and new men.
The ElemenlB, Earth, Water, Air, and Fire.
Which ever elipt* a natural desire
To combat each with other, being at first
Created enemies lo fight their worst.
See, at the peaceful presence of their King,
How quietly they mov'd without their sting!
Earth not devouring, Fire not defacing.
Water not droirning, and the Air not chasing.
But propping the quaint fabric that here stands,
Without the violence of their wrathful hands.
Mirror of times, lo, where thy Fortune sits.
Above the world and all our human wits,
But thy high Virtue above that I what pen,
Or art, or brain, can reach thy virtue then!
At whose immortal brightness and true light
Envy's infectious eyes have lost their sight ;
Her snakes, not daring to shoot forth their stings
'Gainst such a glorious object, down she flings
ESTEBTAISMENT TO K
■211
Their forks of venom into her own maw,
Whilst het rank teeth the glittering poisons chaw ;
For 'tis the property of En»y's blood
To dry away at every kingdom's good,
Especially when she had eyes to view
These four main virtues figiir'd all in you, —
Justice in causes, Fortitude 'gainst foes,
Temperance in spleen, and Prudence in all those:
And then so rich an empire, whose fair breast
Contains four kingdoms, by your entrance blest;
By Brute divided, but by you alone
All are again united and made one;
Whose fruitful glories shine so far and even.
They touch not only earth, but they kiss heaven.
From whence Astrsea is descended hither,
Who with our last queen's spirit ded up thither.
Foreknowing on the earth she could not rest,
Till you had tock'd her in your rightful breast :
And therefore all estates, whose proper arts
Live by the breath of majesty, had hearts
Burning in holy zeal's immaculate fires,
Willi quenchless ardours and unstain'd desires,
To see what they now see, your powerful grace
Refleciing joys on every subject's face;
These painted flames and yellow burning stripes
Upon this robe, being but as shows and types
Of that great zeal : and therefore, in the name
Of this glad city, whither no prince e'er came
More lov'd, more long'd for, lowly I entreat.
You'd be to ber as gracious as you're great ;
So with reverberate shouts our Globe shall ring,
The music's close being thus — God save oui
King!
If there be any glory i
he '
I by writing
SIS rAcr 01 nn txTKiruxMtitT, he.
Utcae lisM, 1 do Twdj bestow it, u lu» dnc, no
Tbo. Hiddletoa, in whoM bcmio Hitj mtn begoUra,
Ukm^ tltej wcicdclmml Iwre: fMK mk MNyeri-
THE TRIUMPHS OF TRUTH,
AND
THE ENTERTAINMENT AT THE OPENING
OF THE NEW RIVER.
I
Thi Triumpht qf Tralh. A Soltimily vaparalleld far Call, Art,
md Magnificence, at iht Cmfirmalim and EUabliilmunt iff thai
Wartky md Inu NobtytBinded Gtathman, Sir ncmai Middlt-
lim,Knighl: in !*» Himoralilt Offiet of hU Maialitt Lieutltnant,
Iht Lord MaioT qf Ike thrice Famont Ciity nf Landm. Taking
Blgimitg at hit Lord-Mpi going, and proceeding afltf hii Re-
tune from reieiuing fie Oaik o/Uaiarally at Weilnituter, ok
Ih* Memi0 next i^tr Simon and ludei day, October 29. 1S13.
AH the Shoves, Pagtanli, CharioU; Morning, Noone, and Night-
THumpke: Directed, Written, and redeem'd into Farmt, Jron
the Ignorance cf lotne /ormer timet, and their Common Writer,
By Thopiai Uiddlctan. Shetcing alio hii Lordihipi Bntertaine-
ntnt f-pon Micharlmai day loll, being the dog of hit Eltetion, al
that mott Famous and Admired Worke <tf the AHNninf Stream*,
from Amuiell-Hiad into the Ceileme al liVmgton, being Iht tola
CotI, Indaitry and Inanition of the Worthy Mr. Hugh Middletm
1^ London, Galdimilli. London, Printed by Nichalas Okti. 1613.
410.
Of ihi* pageant there is an earlier edition by the same
printer »nd with the ume date, but wanting tbe EntertaiQ-
menc al the Nen River tiead.
Tht Triumph! of Truth, St, ii reprinled in NichoI»"s Pro-
grtutt i^K. Jamei, voL ii. p. fi79.
To the great expeclatwn of tirtue and yoodnem, and
most mrrthi/ of all those costt and tumours tchich the
noble Fellmcship and Society qfOrocerx, and general
lotv of the vhoU City, in full-heaped bounties bettene
itpon him, the truly generous and Judicious Sik
Thomas Middlkton, Knight, Lord Mayor of the
honourable Cily of London.
As often as we shall fix our tlioiighis upon tlie
Almighty Providence, so often iliey return to our
capacities laden with admiration, either from the
divine works of his mercy or those incomprehensible
of his justice: but here to instance only hi» omni-
potent mercy, it being the health and preservation
of all his works; and lirst, not only in raising, but
also in preserving your lordship from many great ■
and incident dangers, especially in foreign coun-
tries, in the time of your youth and travels; and
now, with safety, love, and triumph, to establish
you in this year's honour, crowning the perfection
of your days, and the gravity of your life, with
power, respect, and reverence : next, in that my-
self, though unworthy, being of one name with
your lordship, notwithstanding all oppositions of
malice, ignorance, and envy, should thus happily
live, protected by part of that mercy — as if one
fate did prosperously cleave to one name — now to
do service to your fame and vvorthiness, and my
VOL. v. u
sift
pen only to be employed in these bounteoui and
honourable triumphs, being but shadows to those
eternal glories that stand ready for deaervers; to
which I commend *'"■ •'""•- "f your justice, re-
maining ever,
my obsen-ance,
UOMAB Ml
%
THE TRIUMPHS OF TRUTH.
Sbakch all chroDiclce, hiatorieB, records, in what
language or letter soever ; let the inquisitive man
waste the dear treasures of his time and eyesight,
he shall conclude his life only in this certainty,
that there ia no subject upon earth received into
the place of his government with the like state and
magnificence as is the Lord Mayor of the city of
London. This being, then, infallible— like the mis-
treu of our triumphs — and not to be denied of any,
how careful ought those gentlemen to he, to whose
discretion and judgment the weight and charge of
such a business is entirely referred and committed
by the whole Society, to have all things corre-
spondent to that generous and noble freeneas of
and liberality; the streams of art to equal
se ofboimty; a knowledge that may take the
e height of such an honourable solemnity, — the
miserable want of both which, in the impudent
common writer, hath often forced from me much
pity and sorrow; and it would heartily grieve any
understanding spirit to behold, many times, so glo-
rious a fire in bounty and goodness offering to
match itself with freezing Art, sitting in darkness,
with the candle out, looking like the picture of
Black Monday."
220 THE TftfVMFHS OF TBUTB,
But, to Speak iruili, «vhicli m&ay beside myself
can afBrm upon knowledge, a care that bach been
seldom equBikil, and not easily imitated, hath been
faithfully shewn in the nhole course of this busi-
ness, both by the wardens and committees, men of
much understanding, industry, and carefulness, little
weighing the greatness of expense, so the cost
or 1605 and 1611, and perhaps olhrrs at which po copies an
known lo exiit. TliDijg:h he tbii year (ind (he tail, when
Dckber was einplojed) loil the uffice uf author, be did not
Idh thai of Bupplyiiig Ibe apparel], &r., nhtch wosbia busineu
u a draper, and to which omce only Middlecon teems to have
CODBidered him competent [lee p. 245]. This virulent alUck,
however, appears to hire experienced no greater attfotion
than such violence deserved, since Munday wai employed in
the three following years." Nichols. — The iuKripnon on
Anlhony'i tomb declarci that he waa ■ " ciliien and draper :"
but I am not sure (hat he furnished " the appirell and por-
lera " for Tht Triamphi oj Tmlh in the lalter capacity ; rather,
perhaps, in conoeigueiice of being keeper of liir proprrlUi of
the pageaDta. In the reniarka pretixed to Munday's Dwnfatt
nflhe Earl of HuHlingtim (Suppl. vol. to Dodiley'a OW /•%.)■
I am surprised lo find Mr. ColliGr doubling if Middleion
alludes lo him here : and I can anl^ suppose tliat nbeu Mr. C.
wrolG those remarka, big rccollectioa of Ibe presenl passage
was somewliat imperfect.
The play Just menlioiied is evidence that Munday's powers
ivere far from contempiible. The ill will which the dramatists
appear to have borne towards him was, perhaps, called forth
b; the extravagant encomium of Meres, who, in the PalladU
rani'a, IS98, Fiad chosen to term him " our beat ptoller,"
fol. 283. With respect to the comedy called Tht Can it
alltrett, in which he i> ridiculed under tho name of AdIdiuo
Balladino, there has been a queition among critics, whether
it it the work of Ben Jonson. CiBord pronounced it to ba
an early production of that poet ; Bad be, I am confident,
would not have changed his opinion even if he had lived
lo see the copy, wiihoul any aullior'a name on the title-page,
which some years ago was added lo the collection of the Duke
might purchase perfection, so fervent halh been
their desire to excel in that, which is a learned and
virtuous ambition, and so unfeignedly pure the
loves and aflections of the whole Company to his
lordship, if any shall imagine that I set fairer
colours upon their deserts than they upon them-
selves, let them but read and conceive, and their
own understandings will light tliem to the acknow-
ledgment of their errors. Fi
behold love and bounty opening n
earlier than some of former year
first appearing of his lordship, t
taste of the day's succeeding glory; and thus the
form of it presents itself: —
At Soper-Lane end a senate-house erected, upon
which musicians sit playing ; and more to quicken
time, a sweet voice married to these words :
, they may her
with the morning
rs, ready, at ili
I give his (
The Smig.
Mother of many honourable sons,
Think not the glasM too sloKly runs
That in Time's hand is set.
Because thy northy ton appears not yet :
Lady, be pleas'd, the hour grotvi on.
Thy joy mil be complete anon ;
2%ou xhalt behold
The man enrolfd
In htmovr's books, whom virttte rahei ;
Love-circled round.
His triumphs crotm'd
With all good wishes, prayers, and praises.
What greater comfort to a mother's heart,
Than to behold her son's desert
I TBI TKICICFBS or TStlTtl.
G* ktad t> kmmd nti btv,
h U^jKmer mU grit/, n iSU,
Jmd mitk ajload rfjmf Ufit
Tmttthmrut
IfkA glary deck'd, wkm expttUi^m,
Grmet. Irvtk, mrf/Mw,
Mfimkummme,
Akrt tbn Bircrl kit hath liberallv spent itself, at
ibv (int •ppcaring of the Lord Mayor from Guild-
h«U in tbe tnoming. a iruinpei placed upon that
tc«ffald M>unds fonh his welcome; then, after a
sUain or two of muaic, a grave fetoinine shape pre-
aeitts itself from beliind a silk curtain, Tepresenting
London, aiiir«d like a reverend mother, a long
while hair naturallv (lowing on either side of her ;
on her bead a model of steeples and turrets ; her
habit crinuun silk, near to the honourable garment
of the cil<r : her left hand holding a key of gold:
who, after a comely grace, equally mixed with
comfort and reverence, sends from her lips this
motherly salutation :
The ^jxech of Lokdok.
llonoiiT and joy salute thee! I am rais'd
In comfort and in love to see thee, glad
And hnppy in thy blessings ; nor esteem
* jtlltitd] Old eds. " Allends."
' ll'hal gtiattr. Sc.
. . . hU kauomr't cmfirtaaliBit] Thit second iliuila ii
1101 rppTinml by Nicliols, The old ed. omiw ii in ihii pUce,
bat gives it afm^irds with the musical notes of tbe song.
THE TRIUMFUS
223
I
My words the less 'cause 1 8 woman speak)
A woman's counsel is not always weak,
1 am thy mother ; at that name I know
Thy heart does reverence to me, as becomes
A SOD of honour, in whose soul burn*^ clear
The sacred lights of divine fear and knowledge ;
I know (hat, at this instant, all the works
Of motherly love in me, shewn to thy youth,
When it was soft and helpless, are summ'd up
In thy most grateful mind : thou well remember'st
All my dear pains and care ; with what afiection
I cherish['d] thee in my bosom, watchful gtill
Over thy ways ;
Set wholesome and religious laws before
The footsteps of thy youth ; shew'd thee the way
That led thee to the glory of this day, —
To which, with tears of the most fruitful joy
That ever mother shed, I welcome thee :
O, I could be content to take my part
Out of felicity only in weeping,
Thy presence and this day are'' so dear to me !
Look on my age, my honourable son.
And then begin to think upon thy office.;
See how on each side of me hang the cares
Which 1 beslow'd on thee, in silver hairs ;
And now the faith, the love, the zealous fires
With which I cheer'd thy youth, my age requires.
The duty of a mother ! have shewn.
Through all the riles of pure affection,
wealth, in honour.
Brought thee to what thou art, thou'st all from
4
SS4 THE TRIUMPHS OF TBCTH.
Now to thy charge, ihy government, thy cares,
Thy mother in her age submits her years :
Aod though — 10 my abuDilant grief I speak it.
Which now o'erflowg my joy — some Bona I have
Thankless, unkind, and disobedient,
Rewarding all my bounties with neglect,
And will of purpose wilfully retire
Thcimclvefl from doing grace and service t
When they've got all ihey can, or hope for, fro
me, —
The thankfulness in which thy life doth move
Did ever promise fairer fruits of love,
And now they shew themselves; yet they have all
My blessing with them, so the world sh^l see
Tis their unkindness, no defect in me.
But go thou forward, my ihrice-honour'd son
In ways of goodness ; glory is hest won
When merit brings it home ; disdain all titles
Purchas'd with coin, of honour take thou hold
By thy desert, let others buy't with gold;
Fix thy moat serious thought upon the weight
Thou goest to undergo, 'tis the just government
Of this fam'd city, — me, whom nations call
Their brightest eye; then with great ca'
fear
Ought 1 to be o'erseen, to be kept clear :
Spots' in deformed faces are scarce noted,
Fair cheeks are stain'd if ne'er so little blotted.
See'st thou this key of gold ? it shews thy charge: j
This place is the king's chamber ; nil pollution,
Sin, and uncleanness, must be lock'd out here.
And be kept sweet with sanctity, faith, and fear :
I see grace take etfect, — heaven's joy upon her !
'Tis rare when virtue opes the gate to honour.
■ Spolt, &c.] We have had tbii couplet before, p. 199.
My ble
Aodon
be upon tliee, son and lord,
ions all, ihat obey my word!
Then making her honour, as before, the Waits
of the city there in service, his Lordship, and the
worthy Company, are led forward toward the water-
side, where you shall End the river"^ decked in the
richest glory to receive him ; upon whose crystal
bosom stand'' five islands, artfully garnished with
all manner of Indian fruit-trees, drugs, spiceries,
and the like ; the middle island with a fair castle
especially beautified.
But makiog haste to return to the cily again,
where triumph waits itt more splendour and mag-
nificence, the first then tliat attends to receive his
Lordship off the water atBaynard's-Castle,is Truth's
Angel on horseback, his raiment of white silk pow-
dered with stars of gold ; on his head a crown of
gold, a trumpeter before him on horseback, and
Zeal, the champion of Truth, in a garment of flame-
coloured silk, with a bright hair on his head, from
' Ihi rivtr. Sic.'] "SlrThoinHiMiddleloti.^acer.flndaiayar
in 1613," My» Ucrbprl, in hia Hittoty 1/ the Twelve Great
Livrt) Campania of London, " wai nearly the Aral who at-
tempted BQ emljlciBalical and scenic repreieniacion of hia
company, in a water tpeciacle, consisting (in imitation of the
pageant mentioned to have been exhibited by Sic John Weill
Id Henry VI.*} of ' five ialands, artfully garnished with all
manner of Indian fruit trees, druggea, ipiceriea, and the like;
the middle iiland having a faire casile especiall; beautified 1'
the l&tter probably aliuaive to the newly- eslabli abed East
India Company's forti, and wlioce adventures had contributed
■ □ enlarge (he sphere of the grDnera' trade." loL i.
M
p. 500.
.d] Old eda. "atandi."
■ See Herbert*! work, vol. i
THE Turirrus OF tkcth.
which ahoot Gre-beams, following close after biin,
mounted nlike, his right hand holding a flsmiog
scourge, intimating thereby that as he is the n
nifester of Trulli, he is likenise the chastiser
Ignorance and Error.
The laliUaiitm of the Akoel.
I have nithin mine eye my blessed charge :
Hail, friend of Truth ! safety and joy attend* theej
I am Truth's Angel, by my mistress sent
To guard and guide thee. When thou took'at thy
I stood on thy right hand, though to thy eye
In visible form I did not then apuear ;
Ask but thy soul, "twill tell thee I stood near;
And 'twas a time to lake care of thee then,
At such a marriage, before heaven and men,
Thy faith being wed to honour ; close behind th<
Stood Error's minister, that siill sought to blii
And wrap his subtle mists about thy oath.
To hide it from the nakedness of Troth,
Which is Truth's purest glory; but my light.
Still as it shone, expell'd her blackest spite;
His mists fled by, yet all 1 could devise
Could hardly keep them from some people's eyeOp^
But thine they flew from : thy care's but begun,
Wake on, the victory is not half yet won;
Thou wilt be still assaulted, thou shalt meet
With many dangers that in voice seem sweet.
And ways most pleasant to a worldling's eye ;
My mistress has but one, but that leads high.
To yon triumphant city follow me,
Keep thou to Truth, eternity keeps to thee.
• affmf] Old eds. " ittcndi."
I
I
Oa boldly, man of honour ! thou shalt win ;
I am Truth's champion, Zeal, the scourge of sin.
The trumpet then sounding, the Ange! and Zeal
rank themaelves just before his Lordship, and eon-
duct him to Paul's-Chain, where, in the aoutli yard,
Error in a chariot with his infernal ministers at-
tends to assault him, his garment of ash-colour
silk, his head rolled in a cloud, over which stands
an owl, a mole on one shoulder, a bal on ihe other,
all symbols of blind ignorance and darkness, mists
hanging at his eyes. Close before him rides Envy,
his champion, eating of a human heart, mounted
on a rhinoceros, attired in red silk, suitable to the
bloodiness of her manners ; her left pap bare, where
a anake fastens ; her arms half naked ; holding in
her right hand a dart tincted in blood.
The greeting o/"Erbob.
Art come? O welcome, my triumphant lord.
My glory's sweetheart! how many millions
Of happy wishes hath my love told out
For this desired minute I I was dead
Till I enjoy'd thy presence, I saw nothing,
A blindness thicker than idolatry
CloTe to my eyeballs ; now I'm all of light.
Of fire, of joy, pleasure runs nimbly through me;
Lei's join together both in state and triumph,
And down with beggarly and friendless Virtue,
That bath so long impoverish'd this fair city ;
My beasts shall trample on her naked breast,
Under my chariot-wheels her bones lie prest.
She ne'er shall rise again. Great power this day
THt THrirPH» OF TIUTB.
U« given into tliy hand ; make
wills
;, lord,
e sword ;
I thetn all now whom thy heart envies,
Let nni thy conscience come into thine eyea
This twelvemonth, if thou lov'st revenge or gain ;
I'll teach thee to cast miais to blind the plain
And simple eye of man ; lie ahall not knon't.
Nor see thy wrath when 'tia upon his throat ;
All shall be carried with such art and wit.
That what thy lust acts shaU be counted fit :
Then for attendanu that may best observe thee,
I'll pick out sergeanla of my band to serve iheej
Here's Gluttony and Sloth, two precious slaves.
Will tell thee more than a whole herd of knaves;
The worth of every office to a hair.
And who bids most, and how the markete arc,
Let them alone to smell ; and, for a need.
They'll bring thee in bribes for measure and light
bread ;
Keep thy eye winking and thy hand wide ope.
Then thou shall know what wealth is, and the scope
Of rich authority ; ho, 'tis sweet and dear !
Make use of time (hen, thou'st but one poor year.
And that will quickly slide, then be not nice :
Both power and profit cleave' to my advice ;
And what's he locks his ear from those aweel
charms,
to meet gain with wide • stretcli'il
There
IS?
s a poor, thio, threadbare thing call'd Truth,
1 give thee warning of her ; if she speak,
Stop both thine ears close ; most professions break
That ever dealt with her ; an unlucky thing,
She's almost sworn to nothing: I can bring
* rlcow] Old ed« "cleaues."
A thousB
id of
our parish
besid
es queans,
That ne'e
rkDev
whatTru
th men
nt, nor ever means;
Some I c
uldc
[ill out her
B, e'en
in this throng.
If I would shell
my child
en, ar
d how strong
I were in
factio
n. 'U.,
poor a
mple stray !
Sbe-B all
ler lifetime find
ngou
one way ;
Sh'as but
one fooliah way.
straight on, right forward,
And yet
he makes a toil
on'i, a
nd goes on
With care and fear, forsooth, when I c
Over a hundred with delight and pleasure.
Back-nays and by-ways, and fetch in my treasure
Af^r the wishes of my heart, by shifts,
Deceits, and slights -."^ and I'll give thee those gifts ;
I'll shew thee all my corners yet untold,
The very nooks where beldams hide their gold,
In hollow walls and chimneys, where the sun
Never yet shone, nor Truth came ever near ;
This of thy life I'll make the golden year ;
Follow me then.
Envy.
Learn now to scorn thy inferiors, those' most love
thee.
And trifih to eat their hearts that sit above thee.
Zeal, stirred up with divine indignation at the
impudence of these hell-hounds, both forces their
retirement, and makes way for the chariot wherein
Truth his mistress sits, in a close garment of white
satin, which makes her appear thin and naked,
figuring thereby her simplicity and nearness of
that embrace her; a robe of white
it, filled with the eyes of eagles,
r deep insight and height of wisdom ;
tified head a milk-white dove.
heart to thoa
silk cast ov(
shewing her
' ilighh] i.
, irtilicei).
■ mml} Old ed>, "
and on each shoulder one, die sacred embteins of
puriiy, meekness, and innocency ; under her feet
Kcrpenis, in ihat she tTeads down alt aubilety and
fraud ; her forehead empaled with a diadem of start,
the witness of her eternal descent ; on her breast a
pure round crjstal, shewing the brightnega of her
thoughts and actions ; a tun in her right hand, than
which nothing is truer : a fan, filled all with stat^
in her left, with which she parts darkness, and
strikes away the Ttpours of ignorance. If you
hearken to Zeal, her cfaampion, after his holy anger
is past against Error and his crew, he will give it
you in better terms, or at least more amoothTy and
pleasingly.
Bold furies, back I or with thii scourge of fire,
Whence sparkles out religious chaste dettre,
I'll whip you down to darkness : this a place
Worthy my mistress ; her eternal grace
Be the full object to feast all these eye*,
But thine the first— he that feeds here is wiae
Nor by the naked plainness of her weeds
Judge thou her worth, no bumish*d gloM Truth
That crown of stars shews her descent from heaven ;
Thai robe of white, fill'd all with eagles' eyes
Her piercing sight through hidden mysteries ;
Those milk-white doves her spotless innocence;
Those serpents at her feet her victory shews
Over deceit and guile, her rankest foes;
And by that crystal mirror at her breast
The deamesB nf her conscience is exprest ;
And shewing that her deeds all darkness shun.
Her right hand holds Trutli's symbol, the bright
4
THE TRIUMPHa OF ■
A &n of stars she in lier other i
With which she chase th away I
I
The leords q/' Truth.
Man, rais'd by faith and love, upon whose head
Honour sita fresh, lei not thy henrt be led,
In ignorant nays of insolence and pride.
From her tliat to this day hath been thy guide ;
I never ahew'd tliee yet more paths than one.
And thou hast found sufBcient that alone
To bring thee hither ; then go forward still.
And having most power, first subject thy will ;
Give the first fruits of justice to thyself, —
Then doat thou wisely govern, though that elf
Of sin and darkness, still opposing me,
Counsels thy appetite to master thee.
But call to mind what brought thee to this day, —
Was falsehood, cruelty, or revenge the way?
Thy lust or pleasures ? people's curse or hate 1
These were no ways could raise thee to this state,
The ignorant must acknowledge ; if, then, from me.
Which no ill dare deny or sin control.
Forsake rae not, that can advance thy soul :
I see a. blessed yielding in thy eye ;
Thou'rt mine; lead on, thy name shall never die.
These words ended, they all set forward, this
chariot of Truth and her celestial handmaids, the
Graces and Virtues, taking place next before his
lordship; Zeal and the Angel before that, the
chariot of Error following as near as it can get; alt
passing on till tbey come into Paul's-Churchyard,
where stand ready the live islands, those dumb
232 THE TKirurBB OF TKCm,
glories (hat I sp&ke of before upon die water : upon
tJie heighth of iheM five iilands sit five persons,
representing the Fire Senses,'' — Uttu, Audiltu, Toe-
tui, Guttut, Olfactia, or, Seeing, Hearing, Touching,
Tasting, Smelling ; at their feet their proper em-
blems,— aquila, cemu, afaneut, limia, canif, an
eiLgle, a hart, a spider, an ape, a dog.
No sooner can your eyes take leave of these, but
they may suddenly espy a strange ship making to-
ward, and that which may raise greater astonish-
ment, it having neither sailor nor pilot, only upon
a white silk streamer these two words art in letters
of gold, leritate gubemoT, — I am steered by Trutli.
The persons thai are contained within ihis little
vessel are only four ; a king of the Moors, his
queen, and two attendants, of their own colour ;
ihe rest of iheir followers people of the castle that
stands in the middle island, of which company two
or three on the top appear* to sight. This king
seeming much astonied at the many eyes of such a
multitude, utters his thoughts in these words :
The tperck of that KiRO.
I see amaaement set upon the faces
Of these white people, wonderii^ and lUangej
Is it at met does my complexion draw
So many Christian eyes, that never law
' liu Fm SntHi] " Tb« S«D>r.i were penooited
King's Entry into Landoa in 1603, and arc Tppmmced
the engnting of the Arch rrreitd >l Soper-Lane end. in
Harnaon'i Atvhcs. Jonlan iniroduccd then again in the
Lonl MaroT*! P^aot of 1^1 (sec iinl. ilag. vol. xcv. L
131). 11 ihi lame time aauriog the Gronn' Company in hi>
prtfaiory addms. ' thai in tbcie Thumphi there ii nething
deiignHt, wiitlcn, said, or sung, that «v«r »a presented in
anj ihov till ihii prcKOt diTl'" NicBOLi.
• -p<w] Oldods." ■
1
l«t d»^^"
THE TRIUMPHS OP TRUTH.
A king so black before ? no, now I see
Their entire object, they're all racnnt to tliee,
Grave city-governor, my queen and I
Well honour'd with ihe glances that [pass] by.
I must confess, many wild thoughts may rise.
Opinions, common murmurs, and fix'd eyes,
At my BO strange arrival in a land
Where true religion and her temple stand ;
I being a Moor, then, in opinion's lightness,
As far from sanctity ns my face from whiteness.
But I forgive the judgings of th' unwise,
Whose censures ever quicken in their eyes,
Only begot of outward form and show ;
And I think meet to let such censurers know,
However darkness dwells upon my face,
Trurh in my soul sets up the light of grace;
And though, in days of error, I did run
To give all adoration to the sun,
The moon, and stars, nay, creatures base and poor.
Now only their Creator I adore.
My queen and people all, at one time won
By the religious conversation
Of English mercbanis, factors, travellers,
Whose Trulh did with our spirits hold commerce,
As their affairs with us; following their path.
We all were brought to the true Christian faith ;
Such benefit in good example dwells,
It oh hath power to convert infidels ;
Nor could our desires rest till we were led
Unto this place, where those good spirits were bred; i
And sec how we arriv'd in blessed time
To do that mistress service, in the prime
Of these Iier spotless triumphs, and t' attend
That honourable man, her late-sworn friend.
If .ny .
nder at the
afea
Of this small vessel, which all weathers drivf
According to tlieir rages, where Bp])cars
Nor mariner nor pilot, arm'd 'gainst fears.
Know this came hither from man's guidaoce free,"
Only by Truth steerM, as our souls must be :
; of her fair templrs stands !
irs, bow low, and kUs your handJ>£,
AndB.
DorcA
! where o
rencc.Mo
Her goodnesses are such,
We cannot honour her and her house loo much.
All in the ship ami those in the castle bowing
iheir bodies to the temple of Saint Paul ; but Error
smiling, betwixt scorn and aiig«r, to see sueh a
devout humility lake hold of that cotnplexion,
breaks into these :
Error.
What, have my aweet-Iac'd devils forsook r
Nay, then, ray charms will have enough to do.
But Time, sitting by the frame of Truth 1
daughter's chariot, atiired agreeable to hia i
dition, with his hour-glass, wings, and i
knowing best himself when it is fittest to
goes forward in this manner :
This Time hath brought t' effect, for on thy day I
Nothing but Truth and Virtue shall display
Their virgin ensigns; Infidelity,
Barbarism, and Guile, shall in deep darkness lie. |
O, I could ever stand still thus and gaze !
Never turn glass again ; wish no more days.
So this might ever last ; pity the light
Of this rich glory must be cas'd in night !
id«! !
4
I
TUE TRIUMPHS OF TRUTH. 335.
But Time must on; I go, 'lis so decreed.
To bless my dauglilcr Truth and all her seed
With joys immortal, triumplis never ending;
And as her liand lifts me, to thy ascending
May it be always ready, worthy son I
To hasten which my hours shall quickly run.
See'st thou yon place ?° thither I'll weekly bring
thee.
Where Truth's celestial harmony thou shalt hear ;
To which, I charge thee, bend a serious ear.—
Lead on, Time's smit attendants !
Then the 6ve islands pass along into Cbeapside,
the ship next after them ; the chariot of Truth still
before his lordship, and that of Error still chased
before it ; where their eyes meet with another more
subtle object, planting itself close by the Little Con-
duit, which may bear this character, — the true form
and fashion of a mount triumphant, but the beauty
and glory thereof overspread with a thick, sul-
phurous darkness, it being a fog or mist, raised
from Error, enviously lo blemish that place which
bears the title of London's Triumphant Mount, the
chief grace and lustre of the whole triumph. At
the four corners sit four monsters, Error's disciples,
on whom hangs part of the mist for their clothing,
holding in their hands little thick clubs, coloured
like their garments; the names of these four mon-
'■ters, Barbarism, Ignorance, Impudence, Falsehood;
who, at the near approaching of Truth's chariot,
are seen a little to tremble, whilst her deity gives
life to these words :
' yan plact] " Saint FinrE Croas." Marg, Noli
IHI TBIUHniS OF TflUTII.
ll'TB.
WliBt's herf 7 tlic mist of Error 1 dare bis spite
Stain ihiB Triumpliani Mount, where our delight
Halh been divinely fis'd so many ages?
Dare darkness now breathe forth her insolent rag«i.
And hang in poisonous vapours o'er the place
From whence we receiv'd love, and return'd grae
I see if Truth a while hut turn her eyes,
Thick are the mists that o'er fair cities risi
We did expect to receive welcome here
From no deform'd shapes, but divine and clear;
Instead of monsters that this place attends.
To meet with goodness and her glorious friends ; I
Nor can they so forget me to he far.
I know there stands no other envious bar
But that foul cloud to darken this bright day.
Which with this fan of stars I'll chase away.—
Vanish, infectious fog, that I may see
This city's grace, that takes her light from me I
At this her powerful command the [mists]' vanish
[and] give way ; [the] cloud suddenly rises and
changes into a bright-spreading canopy, stuck thick.
with stars, and beams of gold shooting forth round
aboutit,thcmount appearing then most rich in beaaly
and glory, the four monsters falling flat at the foot
of the hill : that grave, feminine shape, figuring
London, sitting in greatest honour : next above
her, in the most eminent place, sits Religion, the
model of a fair temple on her head and a burning
lamp in her hand, the proper emblems of her sanc-
tity, watchfulness, and seal ; on her right hand sits
Liberality, her head circled with a wreath of g' "
plied by Nicholi.
] Thia and the other words ia bracket* w
THE TRIUMPHS 0? TRUTH, 237
in her hand a cornucopia, or horn of abundance,
out of nhich rusheth a seeming flood of gold, but
no way flowing to prodigality ; for, as the sea is
governed hy the moon, so is that wealthy river by
her eye, for bounty must be led by judgment ; and
hence is artfully derived the only diflTerencc be-
tween prodigality and bounty, — the one deals her
gills with open eyes, the other blindfold : on her
led side sits Perfect Love, his proper seat being
nearest the heart, wearing upon his head a wreaih
of white and red roses mingled together, the an-
cient witness of peace, love, and union, wherein
consists the happiness of this land, bis right hand
holding a sphere, where, in a circle of gold, is con-
tained all the Twelve Companies' arms, and there-
fore called The Sphere of true Brotherhood, or
AnmUui Avuyris, the Ring ofLove: upon his left
hand stand two billing turtles, expressing thereby
the happy condition of mutual love and society:
on either side of this mount are displayed the cha-
ritable and religious works of Loudon^ — especially
the worthy Company of Grocers — in giving main-
tenance to scholars, soldiers, widows, orphans, and
the like, where are placed one of each number :
and on the two heights sit Knowledge and Modesty,
Knowledge wearing a crown of stars, in her hand
a perspective glass, betokening both her high judg-
ment and deep insight : the brow of Modesty circled
with a wreath all of red roses, expressing her bash-
fulness and blusbings, in her hand a crimson banner
filled with silver stars, figuring the white purity of
her sharaefastnesa ; her cheeks not red with shame
or guilt, but with virgin fear and honour. At the
back of this Triumphant Mount, Chastity, Fame,
Simplicity, Meekness, have their seats; Chastity
wearing on her head a garland of white rosea, in
when lUa ligbt
Tbeo to lb; dwige, With nwraet, I eowiifA f
That woithjr fOB of miM, d? vinwrnc Men*
Whom, on mj Ion aod bksMng, 1 reqaire
Xo obterTe thee fahlifttUy, and his dnire
Xo imitate thy irill, and there lie bounded ;
For power's a dangerons sea, which must he aonQded
With truth and justice, or man soon nins on
'Gaifst rocks and aheWea of diuolulion.
Xhen, that thou may'st the difference e*eT know
"Xwixt Truth and Error, a few words shall shew:
The many ways that to blind Error slide
Are in the entrance broad, hell-mouth is wide;
But when man enters far, he finds it then
Close, dark, and suait, for bell returns no men :
But the one sacred way which Truth directs,
Only at entrance man's alTection checks.
And is there strict alone ; to which place throngs
All world's afflictions, caluinnies, and wrongs;
But having past those, then thou lind'st a way
In breadth whole heaven, in length eternal day;
Then, following Truth, she brings thee to that way :
But first observe what works she here requires,
Religion, knowledge, sanctity, chaste desires ;
Then charity, which bounty must express
To scholars, soldiers, widows, Tatherless :
These have been still my works, they must be thine ;
Honour and action must together shine,
Or the best part's eclips'd : behold but this,
Thy Tery crest shews bounty, here 'tis put;
Thou giv'st the open hand, keep it not shut.
But to the needy or deserving spirit
Let it spread wide, and heaven enrols that merit.
Do these, and prove my hopeful, worihy son;
Yet nothing's spoke but needfully must be done;
And so lead forward.
At which words the whole Triumph moves, in
his richest glory, toward the cross in Cheap; at
which place Error, full of wrath and malice to see
hia mist so chased away, falls into this fury :
Error.
Heart of all the fiends in hell !
Could her beggarly power expel
Such a thick and poisonous mist
Which 1 set Envy's snakes lo twist?
Up, monsters ! was her feeble frown
Of force lo strike my officers down 1
Barbarism, Impudence, Lies, Ignorance,
All your hell-bred heads advance,
£40 TitE TBicupns or tedth.
And once again with rotten darkness shroud
This Mount Triumphant : drop down, sulphurous
At which the mist falls again and hangs over all
the beauty of the mount, not a person of glory
seen, only tlie four monsters gather courage again
and take their seats, advancing their cluhs above
their heads ; which no sooner perceived, but Truth
in her chariot, making near to the place, willing
still to rescue her friends and servants from the
powers of Ignorance and Darkness, makes use of
these words :
TauTH.
Dare yet the works of ugliness appear
'Gainst this day's brightness, and see us so near ?
How bold is sin and hell, that yet it dare
Rise against us ! but know, perdition's heir,
'Tia idle to contend against our power:
Vanish again, foul mist, from honour's bower!
Then the cloud dispersing itself again, and all
the mount appearing glorious, it passeih so on to
the Standard,^ about which place, by elaborate action
from Error, it falls again, and goes so darkened till
it comes to St. Laurence-Lane end, where, by the
former words by Truth uttered being again chased
away, London thus gratefully requites her good-
Eternity's bright sister, by whose light
Error's infectious works still fiy my sight,
Receive tby servant's thanks.— Now, Perfect Love.
Whose right hand holds a sphere wherein do move
' Iht Slmidiird} See note, vol. i, p. M8.
THE TBIUMPUS OP TRUTH, 241
Twelve blesi Societies, whose helov'd increase
Styles it the Bing of Brotherhood, Faith, and Peace,
From thy harmonious lips let them all taste
The golden counsel that makes healtli long last.
Perfect Love then standing up, holding in bia
right hand a sphere, on the other two billing tur-
tles, gives these words :
Perfect Love.
First, then, I banish from this feast of joy
All excess, epicurism, both which destroy
The healths of soul and body ; no such guest
Ought to be welcome to this reverend feast,
Where Truth is mistress ; who's admitted here
Must come for virtue's love more than for cheer.
These two white turtles may example give
How perfect joy and brotherhood should live ;
And they from whom grave order is expected.
Of rude excess must never be detected :
This is the counsel wliich that lady calls
Golden advice, for by it no man falls :
He that desires days healthful, sound, and blest.
Let moderate judgment serve him at his feaal :
And so lead on ; may perfect brotherhood shine
Still in [this] sphere, and honour still in thine !
This speech so ended, his lordship and the Com-
panies pass on to Guildhall ; and at their returning
back, these triumphs attend to bring his lordship
toward Saint Paul's church, there to perform those
yearly ceremonial rites which ancient and grave
order hath determined ; Error by the way still busy
and in action to draw darkness oflen upon that
Mount of Triumph, which by Truth is as oflen
242 THE TBinrraB o? racrn.
dispersed : then all returning homewards, full of
beauty and brightness, this mount and the chariot
of Truth both placed near to ibe entrance of his
lordship's gale near Leadenhall, London, the lady
of that mount, 6rst gives utterance to these words :
London.
Before the day sprang from the morning's womb
I rose, my care was earlier tbaji the light,
Nor would it rest till I now brought thee home,
Marrying to one joy both thy day and night;
Nor can we call this night, if our eyes count
I'hc glorious beams that dance about this mount;
Sure, did not custom guide 'em, men would say
Two noons were seen together in one day.
The splendour is so piercing : Triumph seems
As if it sparkled, and to men's esteems
Tlirew forth his thanks, nrapt up in golden flames,
As if he would give light to read their names,
That were at cost this day to make him shine.
And be as free in thanks as they in coin.
But see. Time checks me, and his scythe stands
To cut all off; no state on earth is steady ;
Therefore, grave son, the time that is to come
Bestow on Trutli ; and so thou'rt welcome home.
Time, standing up in Truth's chariot, seeming to
make an oflTer with his scythe to cut offthe glories
of the day, growing near now to the season of rest
and sleep, his daughter Truth thus meekly atayg
his hand :
Trcth.
FaOicT. desist a while, till I send forth
A few words to our friend, that man of worth.—
I
THB TKIUUPHS OF TKVTH. 243
The power that heaven, love, and the city's choice,
Have all conferr'd on tliee, with mutual voice,
As it is great, reverend, and honourable,
Meet it with equal goodness, strive t' excel
Thy foimer self; as tliy command exceeds
Thy last year's state, so let new acts old deeds ;
And as great men in riches and in birth —
Heightening their bloods and joining earth to earth —
Bestovr their beat hours and most serious cares
In choosing out fit matches for their heirs.
So never give thou over day or hour,
Till with a virtue thou hast matcb'd this power ;
For what is greatness if not join'd with grace?
Like one of high blood that hath married base.
Who seeks authority with an ignorant eye.
Is like a man seeks out his enemy ;
For where* before his follies were not spread.
Or his corruptions, tlien they're clearly read
E'en by the eyes of all men ; 'tis so pure
A crystal of itself, it will endure
No poison of oppression, bribes, hir'd law.
But 'twill appear soon in some crack or flaw :
Howe'er men soothe their hopes with popular
breath,
If not in life, they'll find that crack in death.
1 was not made to fawn or stroke sin smooth ;
Be wise and hear me, then, that cannot soothe :
I've set thee high now, be so in example,
Made thee a pinnacle in honour's lemple.
Fixing ten thousand eyes upon thy brow ;
There is no hiding of thy actions now.
They must abide the light, and imitate me.
Or be thrown down to fire where errors be.
Nor only with these words thy ear 1 feed.
But give those part that shall in time succeed,
t uAerc] I. e. whereni.
iAi THS TBIUlfPHS OF TBOia.
To tliee in present, and to them to come,
ThaE Truth may bring you all with honour home
To these your gates, and to those, afler these,
or which your own good actions keep the keys.
Then, as Uie loves of thy Society
Hare'' flow'd in bounties on this day and thee.
Counting aD cost too little for true art.
Doubling rewards there where they found desert.
In thankfulness, justice, and rirtuous care,
Perfect their hopes, — those thy requitals are ;
With fatherly respect embrace 'em all.
Faith in thy heart and Plenty in thy hallt
Love in thy walks, but Justice in thy state.
Zeal in thy chamber. Bounty at ihy gate:
And GO to thee and these a blecsM ^^t ;—
To thee, fair City, peace, my grace and l^htt
Trumpets sounding triumphantly. Zeal, die
champion of Truth, on horseback, his head circled
with strange fires, appears to his mistress, and
thus speaks:
See yonder, lady. Error's chariot stands.
Braving the power of your incens'd commandst
Embolden'd by the privilege of Night
And her black faction ; yet, to crown his iptte,
Which I'll confound, I bum in divine wrath.
TacTH.
Strike, then ; I give thee leave to shoot it forth.
Zeal.
Then here's to the destruction of that aeai;
There's nothing seen of thee but fire shall eu.
THE TRTOMFHS OF T&UTR. 245
At nliich a Same shoots from the bead of Zeal,
which, fastening upon that chariot of Error, seta it
an fire, and all the beasts that are joined to it.
The firework being made by master Humphrey
Nichols, a man excellent in his art ; and the nhole
work and body of the Triumph, wiih all the proper
beauties of the workmanship, most artfully and
faithfully performed by JohnGrinkin; and ihose
furnished with apparel and porters* by Anthony
Munday, gentleman.
This proud seat of Error lying now only glowing
in embers — being a figure or type of his lordship's
justice on all wicked offenders in the time of his
f;overnment — 1 now conclude, holding it a more
earned discretion to cease of myself than to have
Time cut me off rudely : and now let him strike at
his pleasure.
' apparel aadforttri, &c] See note, p. S20.
I, Gol<Umilh,/or the general good of the
Tllf tnamier of kii LoTdthip'i EitlertaiHmfnl on Mi-
tkaeltnat dag la*t, hrmg the day of kit honourable
Election, together wilk the worthg Sm John Swis-
NEKTON, Knight, then Lord Mat/or, Ike learned
and jtidieitna Sik Hekrt Montaoue, Knight,
matter Recorder, and many of Ike Rigkl H'orthip-
ful the Alilmntn of the City of London, at ikat
molt famauM and admired nork of the /tiaming
Stream, from Amtrell Head ailo the Ciilern near
hVmgton ; being the sole intention, cost, and inr
duttry of that worthii matter Huoii Min
of London, C
City.
Pehfectiok, which ■■ the cro^'n of all indention,
swelliug now high with happy welcome to sll the
gUd well-Khhers of her admired maturity, the
lather and master of this famous work, exprewing
thereby both his thankfulness to heaven and bis
seal lo the city of London, in true joy of heart to
•ee his linie, travails, and expenses so successiTely
greeted, this gives entertainment to that boiiour-
able assembly : —
At their first appearing, the warlike music of
drums and trumpets liberally beats tbe sir, sounds
a* proper as in battle, for there is no labour that
man undertakes but hath a war within itself, and
perfection makes the conquest ; and no few or
mean onseu of malice, calumnies, and slanders,
hath this resolved gentleman home off, before his
labours were invested with victory, as in this fol-
lowing speech to those honourable auditors then
placed upon the mount is mare at large related.
A troop of labourers, to the number of threescore
or upwards, all in green caps alike, bearing in their
hantk the symbols of tbeii several emploj-tDenu
THE OPENING OF THE HEW RlVEa. 347
in so great 3 business, with (Irurns before them,
marching twice or thrice about the cistern, orderly
present iheinselvea before the mount, and after
their obeisance,
The Speech.i
Long have we labour'd, long desir'd and pray'd
For this great work's perfection, and by ih' aid
Of heaven and good men's wishes 'tis at length
Happily conquer'd, by cost, art, and strength :
Afler five years' dear expense in days,
Travail, and pains, beside the infinite ways
Of malice, envy, false suggestions,
Able to daunt the spirit of mighty ones
In wealth and courage, this, a work bo rare,
Only by one man's industry, cost, and care,
Is brought to blest elfect, so much withstood,
His only aim the city's general good;
And where'' before many unjust complaints.
Enviously seated, have' of^ caus'd restraints,
Stop, and great crosses, to our master's charge
And the work's hindrance, favour now at large
Spreads itself open to him, and commends
To admiration both his pains and ends.
The king's most gracious love : perfection draws
Favour from princes, and from all applause.
Then, worthy magistrates, to whose content.
Next to the state, all this great care was bent.
And for the public good, which grace requires,
Your loves and furtherance chiefiy he desires,
> Tht Speechi " Anlhony Munday, who in his edition of
Slow'i Saney, publiihed in 1618, lias given another version
of the present iiary, and primed ' the Speech aacordia^ u it
vrti delivered to mee," sayi il wmb Bpoken by ' one m»n m be-
half cf all Ihe real;' who, of course, wai either some hired aclor.
or, very prohably,[?] Thomas Middlelon himself." NicnoLi.
'' tehm] i. e. whereaa. ' Asm] Old ed. "hath."
248 THE ENTERTAINMEKT AT, &C.
To cheriali these proceedings, which may give
Courage to some that may hereafter live,
To practise deeds of goodness and of fame.
And gladly light their actions by his name.
Clerk of the work, reach me the book, to shew |
How many artd from such a labour flow.
These lines following are read m the cler
book:
First, here's the overseer, this tried man
An ancient soldier and an artisan ;
The clerk ; next him the mathematician ;
The master of the timber-work takes place
Next af^er these ; the measurer in like caae ;
Bricklayer and enginer ;" and after those
The borer and the paviour ; then it shews
The labourers next ; keeper of Amwell-head ;
The walkers last : bo all their names are read ;
Yet these but parcels of six hundred more
That at one time have been employ'd before ;
Yet tliese in sight and all ihc rest will say.
That all the week they had their royal pay.
The Speech goes on,
Now fur the fruits then : flow forth, precious spriM
So long and dearly sought for, and now bring
Comfort to all that love thee ; loudly sing,
And with thy crystal murmur struck together.
Bid all thy true well'wishers welcome hither!
At which words the flood-gate opens, the stream
let into the cistern, drums and trumpets giving it
triumphant welcomes ; and, for the close of this theif
honourable entertainment, a peal of chambera."
n rorm of— engineer.
CIVITATIS AMOR,
ifc.
avUatii Amor. Tht Cilii'i Loue. Ah
al ChtlMig and !Vkilt-liaU. At tht iagfalt receining of that lUtu-
lHo¥t Hapt af Qreal Britaine, Ike High and Mighty Ckarltt, To
hee created Prinee •>/ Walti, Duke tf Coriawaa, EarU ^ Cktiler,
ic. TBgilher mlh Ike Ample Ordtr and SBlemHilf if kit High-
<UII4 erealiim, at il vnu etUbrated in k'u Maieititi Palace iff
WkilekaU. on Monday, Ikr ftmrth ef Nouembcr. 161S. A> alto
Ihe CtremenUi «/ Ikat AhcmhI and Honourable Order of Ike
Knigkli of Iki Balh 1 And alt Ike Triumphl ikoune in kmour of
kit Royall Crealim. London, Printed by Nieholai Oka for
Tkomat Artker, and are to be sold at ttit skop in Popet-htad^
PeUaei. 1616. 4ta.
Rfprinled in Nicholi'a Pngreiiei nf King Jamts, vol. iii.
I
i
CIVITATIS AMOR.
The ample Order and Solemnity of Prince Charlei hii
Creation,
HiB Majesty, as well to shew the bounty of liis
affection towards his royal son, as to settle in the
hearts of his loving subjects a lively impression of
hiB kingly care for continuance of the happy and
peaceable government of this land in his issue and
posterity, having determined to invest his princely
Highness with those titles and solemnities [with]
which the former princes of this realm have usually
been adorned ; it seemed fittest — both in regard of
his Highness' years, shewing the rare proofs of pro-
mising heroical virtues, and also that it would be a
gladness most grateful and acceptable to the com-
monwealth— to have the solemnities thereof royally
Krformed : to ilie effecting of which, the Lord
ayor and Aldermen of the city of London, with
the several Companies, honourably furnished and
appointed, and marshalled in fair and comi^ly order
— both by the care and industry of mnster Nicholas
Leale, citizen and merchant of London, and one of
the chief captains for the city ; as also by the well-
observed and deserving pains of master Thomas
Sparro, water-baily, made, for that day, marshal
for the water-triumphs^ were ready attending,
with a great train and costly entertainment, to re-
ceive his Highness at Chelsea, iheir barges richly
deckt with banners, streamers, and ensigns, and
sundry sorts of loud-sounding instruments aptly
i54 CIVITATI8 AMOH.
placed amongst tliem. And for his Grace's first
entertainment, which nas near Cbelsea, a personage
figuring London, silting upon a sea-unicorn, nith
six Tritons sounding before her, accompanied both
with Neptune and the two rivers TharoesiB and
Dee, at his first appearing speaks aa followeth.
[THE CfTY-S' LOVE.
The Enttrtainmml by Water al CheUea and TAj/f-
A personage figuring London, sitting upon a sea-
unicorn, with sis Tritons sounding before her, ac-
companied ihither with Neptune, and the two rivers
Thamesis and Dec, at the first appearing of Che
Prince speaks as foUowelh :]
London.
Neptune, since thou hast been at all ihts pains,
Not only with thy Tritons to supply me.
But art thyself come from thy utmost mains
To feast upon that joy that's now so nigh me,
To make our loves the belter understood,
Silence thy watery subject, this small flood.
Neptune gives action toward Thamesis, and
speaks :
Neptune.
By the timely ebbs and flows,
That make thee famous to all those
That muat observe thy precious tides
That Usue from our ivealthy sides,
Not a murmur, not a sound,
That may this lady's voice confound ! —
And, Tritons, who by our commanding power
Altend upon the glory of this hour,
To do it service and the city grace.
Be silent till we wave our silver mace.
LOND.
iir'd s.
whose loyalty,
I
And y
Service, and zeal, shall be e
Let not your loving, over-greedy noise
Beguile you of the sweetness of your joys.
My wish has took efiect, for ne'er was known
A greater joy and a more silent one.
Then turning to the Prince, [she] ihus speaks :
Treasure of hope, and jewel of mankind,
Richer no kingdom's peace did ever see,
Adorn'd in titles, but much more in mind.
The loves of many thousands speak in me,
Who from [hat blessing of our peaceful store.
Thy royal father, hast receiv'd most free
Honours, that wot
And ere thy t
Thou whose moi
Does promise
o'd thy virtues long before,
me were capable of thee ;
it early goodness, fix'd in youth,
comfort to the length of time;
As we on earth measure heaven's works by truth,
And things which natural reason cannot climb.
So when we look into the virtuous aim
Of thy divine addiction, we may deem,
By rules of grace and principles of fame.
What worth will be, now in so high esteem,
And so betimes pursu'd ; which thought upon,
Never more cause this land had to rejoice ;
4
2je
CtrtTATIS AMOK.
But chiefly I, the ctty, that has known
jSlore of this goad ibaA any, and more choice.
What a fair glorious peace, for many years.
Has sung her sweet calms to the hearts of men,
Enrich'd our bomea, extinguish 'd foreign fears.
And at this hour begins her bymns agen l*"
Live long and happy, glory of our days!
And thy sweet time mark'd with all fair presage*.
Since heaven is pleas'd in thy blest life to raise
The hope of these, and joy of after ages. —
Sound, Tritons ; lift our loveE up with bis Ume,
Proclaim'd as far as honour has a name !
NlPTOX«.
THE ENTERTAINMENT AT WHITEHALL.
This personage, figuring London, with the ■
Ttilons sounding before, Neptune, and the twA
riiera, being arrived at Whitehall, where attend the
Prince's landing the figures of two sacred deities,
Hope and Peace, thus speaks :
Lotfoojf.
Hope, now behold (he fulness of thy good,
Which thy sick comforts hare expected longj-^ '
And thou, sweet Peace, the harmony of this Aood.
Look up, and see the glory of thy song.
Hope, leaning her breast upon a silver tncbor,
attended with four virgins all in white, having
silver oars in their hands, thus answers:
c1vitat19 amor. 25 i
Hope.
Fair and most fainous cily, ihou hast vvak'd me
From ihe sad slumber of disconsolate fear,
Which at the music of thy voice forsak'd me,
And now begin to see my tiomfoTts clear ;
Now has my anchor her firm hold agen.
And in my blest and calm security
The espectalions of all faithful men
Have their full fruits, being satisfied in me.
This is the place that I'll cast anchor in,
This, honour's haven, the hing's royal court ;
Here will 1 fasten all my joys agen.
Where all deservers and deserts resort :
And may 1 never change this happy shore
Till all be chang'd, never to alter more!
Then Peace, sitting on a dolphin, with her sacred
quire, sings this song following :
The song of Peace,
Welcome, O velcome, stpring of joy and peace!
Born to he hoatmr'd and to give increase
To those that wait upon thy graces;
Behold Ihe many thousand faces
That make this amorousjlood
Look like a momng wood.
Usurping all her crystal spaces;
'MoBgst which Tub City's Love tsJiTst,
Whose expectation's sacred thirst
Nothing truly could allay
But such a prince and tuch a day.
Welcome, O welcome! all fair joys attend thee!
Glory of life, to safety we commend thee !
Tao, MiDDLETON."
■ The. Atiddlrlon] The occurrence of thi» signttture hat
Beema to indicate tlial ihe roUaning pOT^oQ of the tract was
258 ClVtTATlS AMOK.
[The Prince" landed at the
Whiiehall, the nobility and his officers preceding.
In the Hall he was received by the Duke of Len-
nox, lord steward of the household, the controller
and officer* of the household ; in the Great Cham-
ber by the Lord Cbamberlain, and Viscount Fenton,
captain of the guard. He proceeded no further
thait to the door of the Presence.]
I
PRINCE CBARLES HIS CREATION.
The day's Triumph ended, to the great honour
of the city and content of his Highness, who, out
of the goodness of his love, gave the Lord Mayor
nnd Aldermen many thanks, on Monday following,
the lords and peers of the realm being all assembled
at Whitehall, his Highness then proceeded in this
r to his creation :
First went [the Prince's Gentlemen, according to
their degrees ; his learned Counsel ; the drums ;3
the trumpets ; then tlie Heralds and Ofitcera of
Arms, in their rich coats; [the Earl Marshal with
his vierge;* the Lord Chamberlain with his white
staff] ; next followed the Knights of the Bath, being
six-and-twcnty in number, apparelled in long robes
of purple satin, lined with while ta&eia; then Sir
William Segar, knight, alias garter principal king
of arms, bearing the letters patents ; the Earl of
■I Thf Prittce, &c.] " Camden's MS. Volume, in Hwl, MSS.
GIT6i whence other exlncti are giveii between crotchels in
ihp foIloHin^ pages." Nichols.
CIVITATIS AUOR. 259
Sussex the purple robea ; the train borne by the
Earl of Huntington, the aword by the Earl of
Rutland, the ring by the Earl of Derby, the rod
by the Earl of Shrewsbury, the cap and coronet
by the Duke of Lennox lord steward. His princely
Highness, supported by the Earls of Suffolk and
Nottingham, came bareheaded, [followed by the
principal Gentlemen of his chamber], and so en-
tered the great hall, where the King was set in liis
royal throne, and the whole state of the realm in
their order.
The Prince made low obeisance to his Majesty
three times ; and aller the third time, when he was
come near to the King, he kneeled down on a rich
pillow or cushion, whilst Sir Ralph Winwood, prin-
cipal secretary, read his letters patents: then his
Majesty, at the reading of the words of investment,
put the robes upon him, and girded on the sword ;
iovesled him with the rod and ring, and set the
cap and coronet on his head. [When the patent
was fully read, it was delivered to the King, who
delivered it to the Prince, kissing him once or
twice. At the putting on of the mantle, and de-
livering of the patent, the trumpets and drums
sounded.]
With which ceremony the creation being accom-
plished, the King arose, and went up to dinner;
but the Prince, with his lords, dined in the hall,
and was served with great state and magniGcence,
accompanied at his table with divers great lords,
as the Earl of SuSblk, lord treasurer ! the Earl of
Arundel, lord marshal ; the Earl of Nottingham,
lord admiral; the Duke of Lennox, lord steward;
the Earl of Pembroke, lord chamberlain; the Earls
of Shrewsbury, Derby, [Huntington], Rutland, and
Sussex; the Prince sitting in a chair at the upper
260 CIVITATIS AUOK.
end, and the resi in distance about four yards from
liim, one over against another, in their degrees;
all which were those that were employed in seTeral
ofEcen of honour about his royal creation, [The
Earl of Southampton acted as cup-bearer, the Earl
of Dorset as carver, the Lord Compton as sewer,'
and doctor Sinhowsc, the Prince's chiiplain, said
grace.] At another table, in the some room, on the
left hand of the Prince, sat the Knights of the Bath,
all on one side, and had likewise great service and
attendance. [After some music, ibe song of forty
parts was sung by the genllemen of the chapel and
others, silting upon degrees over the screen at the
north end of the Hall; which was sung again by
the King's commandment, who stood as a spectator
in the room over the stairs ascending to the Great
Chamber.] About the midst of dinner. Sir William
Segar, knight, alias garter principal king of arms,
with the rest of the King's Heralds and Pursuivants
of Arms, approached the Prince's table, and with a
loud and audible voice proclaimed the King's style
in Latin, French, and English, thrice ; and the
Prince's, in like manner, twice : then the ttumpets
sounding, the second course came in ; and dinner
done, that day's solemnity ceased.
At night, to crown it with more heroical honour,
forty worthy gentlemen of the noble societies of
Inns of Court,^ being ten of each house, everyone
• niivr] Whose office waa to >et on and remove the dishes,
tasle them, &c. : tee Steeveni's note on Bhskeipeerc's Mac-
bilh, Mct i. Bc. 7, «nd RichHrdBon-a Did. in v.
' /nsi a/Courl] " At the Middle Temple the chargei in-
curred on this occasion Bere defrn^ed b; a contribution of
thirty shillings From each Bencher; every Student of (even
years' standing fifteen shillings ; and all other Genllemen in
Commons ten shillings apiece. Dugdale'i Origimi Jiiridiciatti,
p. ISO." Nichols.
I
way of honourable combat, to break
es, three swords, and exchange ten blows
vhose names, for their worthiness, 1 com-
a fame — began thus each to encounter other:
I to wrong the sacred antiquity of any of
ises, their names are here set down in the
e order as they were presented to hia Majesty ;
viz, of the
Middle Temple — Master Strowd, Master Izord.
Gray's Inn — Master Counhop, Master Calton.
Lincoln's Inn — Master Skinner, Master Windham.
Inner Temple — Master Crow, Master Vernon.
Middle Temple — Master Argent, Master Glascock,
Gray's Inn-Maater Wadding, Master Si. John,
Lincoln's Inn — Master Griffin, Master Fletcher.
Inner Temple — Master Parsons, Master Brocke.'
Middle Temple — Master Bentley, senior. Master
Gray's Inn — Master Selwyn, Master Paston.
Lincoln's Inn — Master Selwyn, Master Clinch.
Inner Temple — Master Chetwood, Master Smalman.
Middle Temple — Master Bentley, junior. Master
Gray's Inn — Master Covert, Master Fulkes.
Lincoln's Inn— Master Jones, Master Googe,
Inner Temple— Master Wilde, Master Chave.
Middle Temple — Master Wansied, Master Good-
Gray's Inn — Master Barton, Master Bennet.
Lincoln's Inn— Master Hitchcock, Master Neville.
Inner Temple — Master Littleton, *< Master Trever.
[During the fifth of November, the anniversary
' flmcte] Properly flrooir, Bccordiag lo NJeholn.
I Ptirt] Properly Score, Bccordiiig 10 Nichols.
" Mailer Liiilttmi " The gr«t Sit Edward Littleton,"
262 CIVITATIB AMOR.
of the Gunponilcr Treaaon, the festivities were
suspended. On that day Bishop Andrcns preached
before the King at Whitehall, on Paaliii« sxvii. 3;
and his Majesty knighted Sir William Segar, garter
king at arms.]
On Wednesday, the sixth day of November, to
give greater lustre and honour to tliis triumph and
Golemniiy, in the presence of the King, Queen.
Prince, and Lords, fourteen right honourable and
noble personages, whose names hereafter follow,
graced this day's magnificence viih running at the
ring;'' viz.
The Duke of Lennox, lord steward.
Earl of Pembroke, lord chamberlain.
Earl of Ituiland.
Earl of Dorset.
Earl of Montgomery.
Viscount Villiers.
Lord ClilTord.
Lord Walden.
Lord Mord aunt-
Sir Thomas Howard,
Sir Robert Rich.
Sir Gilbert Oerrard.
Sir William Cavendish.
Sir Henry Rich.
Having thus briefly described the manner of his
Highness' cn^acion, with the honourable service
shewn to the solemnity both by the lords and gen-
tlemen of the Lins of Court, I should have set a
period, but that the Knights of the Itath, being a
principal part and ornament of this sacred triumph,
> on Plain. &c.} " TLe Diicouru ii iu ihc Biihop'i ■ xcvi.
ScrmoDi,' llie Eighth on [he occBiion." NiciioLt, — who la-
lerled the above bracketnl passage.
<• running at lAc ring'] See uule, vol. L p. 390.
4
CIVITATIS AMOR. 263
I cannot pass them over without some remem-
brance : therefore thus rnucli out of the Note of
Directions from some of the principal officers of
arms, and some observation of credit concerning
the order and ceremonies of the knighthood : —
The lords and other that were (o receive the
honourable order of the Bath repaired on Satur-
day, the second of November, to the Parliament
House at Westminster, and there in the aAernoon
heard evening prayer, observing no other ceremony
at that time, but only the heralds going before
them, in their ordinary habits, from thence to King
Henry the Seventh's chapel at Westminster, there
to begin their warfare, as if ihey would employ
their service for God especially ; from whence,
after service ended, they returned into the chamber
they were to sup in. Their supper was prepared
all at one table, and all sate upon one side of the
same, every man having an escutcheon of his arms
placed over his bead, and certain of the King's
officers being appointed to attend them. In this
manner, having taken their repast, several beds
were made ready for their lodf^ing in another room
hard by, afler the same manner, all on one side ;
their beds were pallets with coverings, testers, or
canopies of red say,' but they used no curtains.
The Knights in the meanwhile were withdrawn
into the bathing-chamber, which was the next room
to that which they supped in; where for each of
them was provided a several bathing-tub, which
was lined both within and without with white linen,
' loy] Is commonly explained — "a thin lorl of silk." — " ■
■pecies of lilk, or railicr utin." — Malone (note on Sbske-
spearc's Hmi-y Si^lh, Fart Seeond, act Iv. se. 7.) remnrks, ■' it
sppeara from Minslicu'i Did., UU, tliul lay vu a kind of
serge." Catgrave hni " Segilu, serge, or icy."
264
ADd coTered wiih red say ; wherein, aRer tliey have
•aid their prayers and commended themselves to
God, the J baihe themaetvea, thnt thereby they
niighl be put in mind to be pure in body and soul
Trom thencerorth ; and after the bath, they betook
themselres to their rest.
Early the next morning they were anakened
with music, and at their uprising invested in their
hermits' habits, nhich was a gown of gray cloth,
girded close, and a hood of the same, and a linen
coif underneath, and an handkerclier banging at
his girdle, cloth stockings soled with leather, but
no shoes ; and thus apparelled, their esqoires go-
vernors, with the heralds wearing the eoats of arms,
and sundry sorts of wind instruments before thenii
they proceed from their lodging, the meanest in
order foremost, as the night before, until they came
to the chapel, where, a(\er service ended, their oath
was ministered unto them by the Earl of Arundel,
lord marshal, and the Earl of Pembroke, lord cham-
berlain, in a solemn and ceremonious manner, all
of them standing forth before their stalls, and at
their coming out making low reverence towards
the altar, by which the commissioners sate : then
were tliey brought up by the heralds by two at
once, the chiefest first, and so the rest, till all suc-
cessively had received their oaih,^ which in etfeci
* iMtoalh] "Of this ancient cihoTtaliotiorwpll-wiihilte.
wliich,' Mf* Cundrn, ' ii coniinonly ollfd, but improperly,
an oalhr,' >k lome curioiu pirticuUra in vol. ii. p. 337 [ot
Prng. a/ Kitig Jomei]. Il was read, continue* Cimdm, fiist
(D llic Lord Maluavn*, bj the Earl oS Arundel hii faiher, in
(be chancier of Ecrl Msnhsl, and (lien to the other Knifriiu
cilher by tbe Earl or by the Lord Chambrrlain, oho Oien
It witb the Dean to rtsd (he ume Id the Lord Percy, wbo
bad been forced to withdraw hjnuelf from iDdiipoution."
ClVITATtS AUOR.
265
I
I
was this : That above all things they should seek
' the honour of God, and inainienance of true reli-
gion ; love their sovereign ; serve their country ;
help maidens, widows, and orphans ; and, to the
utmost of their power, cause equity and justice to
be observed.
This day, whilst they were yet in the chapel,
wine and sweetmeats were brought them, and they
departed lo their chamber to be disrobed of their
hermits' weeds, and were jevesled in robes of crim-
son taffeta, implying they should be martial men,
the robes lined with white sarcenet, in token of
sincerity, having white hats on their heads wiih
white feathers, white boots on their legs, and white
gloves tied unto the stringa of their mantles; all
which performed, they mount on horseback, the
saddle of black leather, the arson' white, stirrup-
leathers hlack gilt, the pectoral™ of black leather,
with a cross paty " of silver thereon, and without a
, crupper, the bridle likewise hlack, with a cross
paty on the forehead or frontlet; each knight be-
tween his two esquires well apparelled, his footmen
attending, and his page riding before him, carrying
hia sword, with the hilts upward, in a white leather
belt without buckles or studs, and his spurs hanging
thereon. In this order ranked, every man according
lo his degree — the best or chiefest lirst — they rode
fair and softly towards the court, the trumpets
sounding, and the heralds all the way riding before
them. Being come to the King's hall, the Marshal
meets them, who is to have their horses, or else
100». in money, for his fee; then, conducted by
the heralds and others appointed for that purpose,
' arim'i i.e. saddlr-bow.
11- piece.
° faty] Properly, pal^e.
2G0 CITITATIS AMOS.
his Majesty silting uniler his cloih ofcGlale, g«ve
ro them their knighthood in this manner:
First, the principal lord that is to Teceire the
order comrs, led by his two esquires, and his
Kgt before him bearinj; his sword and spurs, and
.rrtelh down before his Majesty ; the Lord Cham-
berlain takes the sword of the page and delivers
it to the King, "ho puts the belt over the neck of
tli« knight, aslope his breast, placing the sword
under his kft arm; the second nobleman of the
chief about the King puts an his spurs, the right
spur 6rst ; and so is the ceremony performed. In
this sort Lord Maltraver^ son anil heir to the EsrI
of Arundel, lord marshal, which was the principal
of this number, being first created, the rest were
all cDosn^uentlv knighted alike. And when the
solrmnity tWrcof was fully finished, they all re-
lunvrd in order as ihej came, saving some small
diflTcrmrr, in thai the yoangnl or meanest kotgfat
went nnn forrtnosi, and their pages behind them.
Coming; back to the Parliament House, theJi
dinner w«s rvadjr prvfMrvd, in the same room and
■ftrt iW fuluon aa their rapper was the night be-
fore ; bat being set. iWy were not to taste of any
thinf tlkU, tniM bc&cc tbevo. bat, with a modest
eamMg* uad gn«efal >b«tiaw>ce, to refrain ; dirers
kiada «f ««ref< nuaic aOBadinf the while ; and after
n tomtfmiM Iiim of MKiafc u arise and w itbdraw
thw— ahrta. tMtiaf (W taUe ao fwiusbed to their
Mq«ire« wU laM.
AWn •«• of dM dwk in the aftemoon thej
««de afMB t» «««rt. M hwr aerrice in ibe King's
ckofft, k«c|iint tk« taM* min Aey did at their
rMwm ftwM tlwM* in (Iw nwtMi^ every knight
(tdiag h«tw«e« hi* rant eaqnire*. aod his page ktl-
hmiaif him. At iMr tMnPMe tMo Ac d»^ the
heralds conducting them, they make a solemn r
verence, the youngest knight beginning, the re
orderly ensuing; and so one atter another take
their standing before their stalls, where all being
placed, the eldest knight maketh a second re-
verence, which is followed to the youngest ; and
then all ascend into their stalls, and take their
accustomed places. Service then beginneth, and
ia very solemnly celebrated with singing of divers
anthems to the organs ; and when the time of their
offertory is come, the youogesi knights are sum-
moned forth of their stalls by- the heralds, doing
reverence first within their stalls, and again after
they are descended, which is likewise imitated by
all the rest; and being all thus come forth, stand-
ing before their stalls as at first, the two eldest
knights, with their swords in (heir hands, are
brought up by the heralds to the altar, where they
offer their swords, and the dean receives them, of
whom they presently redeem them with an angelP
in gold, and then come down to their former places,
whilst two other are led tap in like manner. The
ceremony perfonned and service ended, they de-
part again in such order as they came, with accus-
tomed reverence. At the chapel-door, as they came
forth, they were encountered by the King's master
cook, who stood there with his white apron and
•leeves, and a chopping -knife in his hand, and
challenged their spurs, which were likewise re-
deemed with a noble ■• in money, threatening them,
nevertheless, that if they proved not true and loyal
to the King, his lord and master, it must be hia ,
office to hew them from their heels.
angtq S« n,
S68 civiTATn Auoa.
On MoDilay morning they all met together nigh
at the coon, where, in a private room appointed
for ihcHt, tbey w«re cloihed in long robes of purple
aaQa. «tth hooda of the utae, all lined and edged
■bout with white laAeia; and ihus apparelled, they
gare their attendance upon ibe Prince at his crca-
lioBi and dined that day in his presence, at a side-
board, as i* already declared.
7^ A*«w* of nek LonU atui Gtnllemai at trere made
Kmigkti of the BaXk, in hm<mr of kit Highntti
Crtatitm.
JamM Lord MiUravors, ton and heir to the Earl
of Aruodel.
Algernon Lurd Percy, son atid heir to tlio Earl [of J
Northtiniberland.
James liOid Wriotliesley, ton to the Earl of South-
Edward [1 heophilus] Lord Clinton, ton to the Earl
of Lincoln.
Edward Lord Beauchamp, grandchild to the Earl
of Hertford.
[George] I^rd Berkeley.
[John] Lord Mordaunt.
Sir Alexander Erskine, >on lo the Viscount Penton.
Sir Henry Howard, aecond son to ibe £larl of
Arundel.
Sir Robert Howard, fourth [fifth] ton to the Earl
of Suffolk.
Sir Edward Sackville, brother to the Earl of Dor-
tcl.
Sir William Howard, fifth [sixth] son to the Earl of
Suffolk.
Sir Edward Howard, aixth [seventh] son to the Earl
CIVIIATIS AUOR. 269
Sir Montague Benie,i elJest son lo the Lord Wil-
loughby of Eiesby.
[Sir William Slourton, son to the Lord Stourlon.]
Sir Henry Parker, son lo the Lord Mounteagle.
Sir Dudley North, eldest son to the Lord North.
Sir Spencer Compton, son and heir to Lord Comp-
Sir William Spencer, son to the Lord Spencer,
{S'lT William Seymour, brother to the Lord Beau-
cbamp.]
Sir Rowland St. John, third son to the Lord St.
John.
Sir John Cavendish, second son to the Lord Caven-
Sir Thomas Neville, grandchild to the Lord Aber-
gavenny.
Sir John Roper, grandchild to ihe Lord Tenham,
Sir John North, broiher to the Lord North.
Sir Henry Carey, son to Sir Robert Carey.
And for an honourable conclusion of the King's
royal grace and bounty shewn to this solemnity,
his Majesty created Thomas Lord EUesmere, lord
chancellor of England, Viscount Brackley ; the
Lord Knolles, Viscount Wallingford ; Sir Philip
Stanhope, Lord Stanhope of Shelford in Notling-
hamshire : these being created'' on Thursday the
> Birlit] Old ed. •' flanue."
' Ikrst being crtatai, &£.] Thi« conEluding eenlence ii
omitted by Nichola, who, instead of it, givei the following
^m Camden's MS. volume in Harl. MSS. S176:
" On the 7lh of Novemher about five of ihe clock in (he
nfternoon, they mett in llie Couniell- chamber, where thf y and
Ibe Lord! appointed lo carry their ornamenu and the auiat-
anW pult on iheir roabes, Ihe Earlea and Viscounia their aur-
eoles of crimaon velvell vith close alee vei, having; short flap pes
hanging upon their ahonlderB, then ihcir hooda and after-
270 CIVITAttS AUOB.
seventh of November, ihe Lord Chancellor Vis
Brackley being led out of the council- chamber into
tlie privy fiallery by the Earl of Montgomery and
Viscount Villiers.
M ofnuie ■nd coronctn. or niKcr circulpiit for ih( Vi(-
couDla. Tlity putcd from ihtoce oT«r ih« Timi [Terrace]
into the Princ Gulltrr. the llrraldi, Kingi of Atmu, Garter
OTTing ibr Purnt. 'the Lord Compton io hi* Pirliimral
raabci, c*r7in( the Miatle, lb* Lord Wfotwcntti the Capp
afnUtc and Circulel, the Lonl Ctiancellour Lord Etletmere
■in hii nircolc and hood with hii tmrd bj hi* rtdc in a uniall
hilt, uiisled bj Hit Earlo of MoD^mcry aad Vitcount Vil-
Itn, with ihrir cappei of »(at on. At Ibr GaIItiry-dr<Tr, the
Lord Chimberlaiae Didl ihrm, and placing hiiiueiraftFr ibe
Kings of Amet, prrcenlfd them to thr Kiog, who tait there
*ilh thcQuHn Iiul ihe Prince. Girlcr preienlcd the PateDI
to the Lord ChimberUine. he lo the King: the KingdrliTercd
the urae lo Sit Ralph Winiiood (he Seoeurr, oho [read the
Hme] ; at the »ard*/nnu tl rmrimui the Roabet were de-
hrered to the King.Hho ddiieml the tame lotbe Anisunti,
■ho inieiied him thrrwith, and the like sith Ihe Capp of
mate and the Circnlett iheruppoo, and then the Eatlet Axial-
aoix puti on their cippn of eitsle. When the Patent wai
full; read, and he ihut created Viicouot BrackJef, the Irnm-
pelli and dnimaies (landing niihout aou&ded.
" Then wa> brougbt in ihe Lord Kmrilea, the Lord Careir
carTing the Mantle, the Lord Daren the Capp of Ealate,
aaaiated bjr the Earle of Sufblk Lord Ti«afar«r and V'iaeaunt
LUIe, and io like mamser ereUed TiatooBt ff aJlingTord.
** Anerward Sir Philipa Staahop «aa brtMigfat in his mr-
cote of (carletl, the Lotd Dennf caTTinn hi* Roabe, the Lord
Conpton and ibe Lord Norrii aiaiating him. and wii created
Lord Slanhop of Shclford. Then ther reioumed that wif
thc7 came to the Connsell- chamber, firit, ViicouDt Bracklrj.
then ViicDUDt Watlingferd and ihe Lord Staahop. in auch
order la thcj seni, the irumpctta and dnuairiei MHioding."
THE TRIUMPHS
OP
LOVE AND ANTIQUITY.
liorqflhe
I'ht Trivmphi rf Lone and Aniiqiiifg. /in Haaimrablt Seltm-
«ilie ptrfarmrd Ihnmgh Ike Cilie, at the cmffimialiaa i '
bluhmiHt of the Right HenmrabU Sir Wimam Cocka^
•» the qfict ef hii MaietlUt LievlenanI, the Lor,
Famaui CitU of London : Taking begnodng in the
Lordthipt going, and perfecting it eelfe after hit retume from
reteiniog the oalh qf MaioraUy at Weitmntter, on the mm-row
after Symaa and Jadti Hay. Oetober 29. 16;9, By The: Mid-
■lUlon. Ge«t. London. Printed by A'icAo/flj Okei. 1619. 4tw.
Itepriated in Nicbola'i Fregretiii of King Jama, vol. iil.
'ii the honour of him to icham the noble Fraiemitff of
Skianers, hi* worthy bmthere, have debated their
lovei in coifb/ Triumpht, the Right Honourabh SiK
William Cockainb, Knight, tord Mayor o/thit
renoumed City, and Lord Oeneral of hit Military
Love, triumph, honour, all the glorious graces
This day holds in her gift; Hx'ii eyes and faces
Apply tliemaelves in joy all to your look ;
In duty, then, my service and the book,
At yoar Lordship's command,
ThO. MlDDLETOH.
THE TRIUMPHS
LOVE AND ANTIQUITY.
It' forfign nations liave been struck with adtniralioti
at tlie form, atate, and splendour of some yearly
iriumphs, wherein Art* haih been but weakly imi-
tated and most beggarly worded, there is fair hope
that things where invention flourishen, clear Art
and her graceful proprieties should receive favour
and encouragement from the content of the apee-
tator, which, next to the service of his honour and
honourable Society, is the principal reward it looks
for ; and not despairing of that common favour —
which is often cast upon the undeserver, through
the distress and misery of judgment — this takes
delight to present itself.
And firat, to begin early with the love of the city
to his lordship, let me draw your attentions to his
honour's entertainment upon the water, where Ex-
pectation, big with the joy of the day. but beholding''
to free love forlanguage and expression, ihua salutes
the great master of the day and triumph.
* wAirdn if r(, &C. ] Alluding !a the pogcatiu of Munday :
leenole, p, 219.
' Molding] Sc« note, p. 3tf.
^H rtt «n nnnmn of ^^^
f n.^uaim,i.U.MMp,^K.ti,wMr. J
1. tW «Uy'i low, tl»e Ciiy*» general love, ■
AD ll»l UlaU mi ••nU; may •«: 1
Ho> Ml mka >j< ■umb •< Ik jo; or diee :
TW mora, btOMO 1 an mth coofidence mt
Dmm mil bn »iU bo w<a moidi'd to-dov :
Ami Wnia Ik fattu pilj wiU •pfKor.
TUimoMlicaalmtMloagullion lyear;
tlao't lono •a km to cton' lln eod Ai.n :
irtkooo ilmdl bil. »kidi tmnol ouil; die.
Tliy good tnAt ini Aet to cttrnity.
Tk lugoMos of ihj oonfc, goin every day ;
8<\ mMiy Teo« tkoo goio'it thai some have lost ;
For they tW iKiak ilwir care is at g;re« cost.
IflWy do oat good io time so aoioU.
^ neTtlmlntk<iry<orh>la«oocd.yioaIli
■ WUdtihoBmlKi.oM.ye.> to mead.
■ HeaSalliMo«oalno._ygTooiidi
■ Sollianditaoa.sitmiUcommtobeo<
■ Collacaln..p>iil..R4e<mtU. hoot, trkli can.
■ TbioksorViscliaijeamlomk.okatiie.lteyaioi
H Wovhs more ftood in ooc year tlmoaoaae mien:
H Nor is this spoken any to dettMt,
^1 Bnt all t' encourage to pot tiotli ia act.
AMD AHIiaUITT.
At [his triiimpliant hour; ill cnuses hide
Their leprous faces, daring not t' abide
The brightness of this day ; and in mine ear
Methinks the Graces' silver chimes I hear.
Good wishes are at work now in each heart,
Throughout this sphere of brotherhood play their
Chiefly thy noble own fraternity.
As near in heart as they're in place to thee,
The ensigns of whose love bounty displays.
Yet esteems all their cost short of ihy praise.
There will appear elected sons of war,
Which this fair city boasts of, for their care,
Strength, and experience, set in truth of heart.
All great and glorious masters in that art
Which gives to man hia dignity, name, and seal,
Prepar'd to speak love in a noble peal.
Knowing two triumphs must on this day dwell,
For magistrate one, and one for coronei :"
Return lord-general, that's the name of stale
The soldier gives thee, peace the magistrate.
On then, great hope 1 here that good care begins,
Which now earth's love and heaven's hereafter wins.
At his lordship's return from Westminster, those
worthy gentlemen whose lovca and worths were
prepared before in the conclusion of the former
speech hy water, are now all ready to salute their
lord-general with a noble volley at his lordship's
landing; and in the best and most commendable
form, answerable to the nobleness of their free love
and service, take their march before his lordship,
who, being bo honourably conducted, meets the
first Triumph by land wailing his lordship's most
■ cdFMie/] Ftequenlly used fur (nnd llie SpaniBh of) colonel.
278 THE TRICMPHS OF
wished arrival in Paul's-Churchyari], near PaulV
Chain, which is a Wilderness, most gracefully and
artfully furnished with divers kind of beasts bear-
ing fur, proper to the fralemily; the presenter the
musical Orpheus, great master both in poesy and
harmony, who by hts excellent music drew af\er
him wild beasts, woods, and mountains ; over his
head an artilicial cock, of\en made to crow and
flutter with his winga. This Orpheus, at the ap-
proach of his lordship, gives life to cheae words:
The ipeech Jciivered by Orpheus.
Great lord, example is the crystal glais
By which wise magistracy sets his face,
Fits all his actions to their comeliest dress,
For there be sees honour and suemliness :
'Tis not like fluttering glasses, those false books
Made to set age back in great courtiers' looks ;
Like clocks on revelling nights, that ne'er go right.
Because the sports may yield more full delight.
But when they break off, then they find it late.
The lime and truth appear :" such is their state
Whose death by flatteries is set back awhile,
But meets 'em in the midst of their safe smile;
Such horrors those forgetful things attend,
That only mind their ends, but not their end-
Leave them to their false trust, list thou to roej
Thy power is great, so let thy virtues be,
Thy care, thy watchfulness, which are but things
Remember'd to thy praise; from thence it springs.
And not from fear of any want in thee.
For in this truth I may be comely free, —
Never was man advanc'd yet waited on
With a more noble expectation :
' o/ytor] Old eil. " Bppeam."
I
LOTE AND ANTIQUITY.
279
That's a great work to perfect ; and as tliose
That have id art a mastery can oppose
All comers, and come off with learned fame,
Yet think not scorn still of a scholar's name,
A title which they had in ignorant youth, —
So he that deals in such a weight of truth
As th' execution of a magistrate's place.
Though never so exact in form and grace.
Both from his own worth and man's free applause,
Yet may be call'd a labourer in the cause,
And be thought good to he so, in true care
The labour being ao glorious, just, and fair.
Behold, then, in a rough example here.
The rude and thorny ways thy care must clear;
Such are the vices in a city sprung,
As are yon thickets that grow close and strong;
Such is oppression, cozenage, bribes, false hires,
As are yon catching and entangling briers;
Such is gout-justice, that's delay in right.
Demurs in suits that are as clear as light;
Just such a wilderness is a commonwealth
That is undresl, unprun'd, wild in her health ;
And the rude multitude the beasts a' the wood,
That know no laws, but only will and blood ;
And yet, by fair example, musical grace.
Harmonious government of the man in place.
Of fair integrity and wisdom fram'd,
They stand as mine do, ravish 'd, charm'd, and tam'd:
Every wise magistrate that governs thus.
May well be call'd a powerful Orpheus.
Behold yon bird of state, the vigilant cock.
The mommg's herald and the ploughman's clock.
At whose shrill crow the very lion trembles,
The sturdiest prey-taker that liere assembles ;
How fitly does it match your name and power,
Fix'd in that name now by this glorious hour.
3««. nA «■ «^ «74
Aai try dw nnmt of « f iifij wd,
KikM prmil bm, ifata tkc f^v, tW nn
^whcBItI
e &>r-iki«iBg Scot,
i.tfceFn 1 iiifcoMMJhou
Tb« cirflly uMtoMltd IrMbona.
Aiid thai kind ntsge ibe Vi^inian,
Ail iawia^j HMBUcd. eat b; &tr,
Tfait tbj day'a hMMwr ta eoofntnUte.
Ob, then ; mmi mt yomt serrim fiUa thii places
So ihroBgli tke dij do ha lordship grnce.
At wfaicb words ibu |mui of Triunpfi noves on-
ward, and meeci the Cull body of the show in the
odicr Paul's - Chitrcbvatd ; ibcn dispersing ilself
according to the ordcrin); of the speeches following,
one part, n-hicb is ihe Sanctuary of Fame, plants
itself near the Liitle Coniluii in Cheapo another,
which hath the (iile of the Purlianient of Honour,
at St. I^urence-Lane end. Upon (he batilemetita
^tltal beauteous sancluary, adorned niifa six-and-
twenty bright -burning lamps, havinf? allusion to
the six-and- twenty aldermen — they being, for their
Justice, government, and example, tlic lights of the
city — a grave personage, crowned with the title
and inscription of Example, breathes forth these
Example.
From that rough wilderness, nhich did late present
The perplex'd slate and cares of government,
Which every painful magistrate must meet,
Here the reward stands for thee, — a chief scat
In Fame's fair Sanctuary, where some of old,
Crown'd with their troubles, now are here enroU'd
In memory's sacred sweetness to all ages j
And so much the world's voice of thee presages.
And these that sit for many, with their graces
Fresh as the buds of roses, though they sleep.
In thy Society had once high places,
Which in their good works they for ever keep;
Life call'd "em in their time honour's fair stars.
Large benefactors, and sweet governors.
If here were not sufficient grace for merit.
Next object, 1 presume, wdl raise thy spirit.
In this masterpiece of art. Fame's illustrious
Sanctuary, the memory of those worthies shine[8]
gloriously that have been both lord mayors of this
city and noble benefactors and brothers of this
worthy fraternity; to wit. Sir Henry Barton, Sir
William Gregory, Sir Stephen Jennings, Sir Thomas
Mirfen, Sir Andrew Judd, Sir Wolslone Dixie, Sir
Stephen Slany, Sir Richard Saltonstall, and now
the right honourable Sir William Cockaine.
That Sir Henry Barton, an honour to memory,
was the first that, for the safely of travellers and
282
Blrangen Ly nr'glit through the city, caused lighl
to be hung out from AUhnllonlide^ to CaiiillcniAa ;
therefore, in this Sanciuary of Fame, where the
beauty of good actions ihine[i], he is most property
and northily recorded.
His lordship by this time gracefully conducted
toward that Parliament of Honour, near Si. Lau-
rence-Lane end. Antiquity, from its eminence, thus
gloriously salutes him :
AsiiQuiTY, m the ParliaineTil 0/ Honour,
Grave city- govern or. so much honour do me.
Vouchsafe thy presence and thy patience to me,
And I'll reward that virtue with a story.
That shall to thy fraternity add glory ;
Then 10 thy worth no mean part will arise.
That art ordain'd chief for that glorious priie.
'Tis 1 that keep all the records of fame,
Mother of truths, Antiquity my name ;
No year, month, day, or hour, that brings in place
Good works and noble, for the city's grace.
But 1 record, that after-times may see
What former were, and how ihey ought to be
Fruitful and thankful, in fair actions flowing,
To meet heaven's blessings, to which much IB owing.
For instance, let all grateful eyes be plac'd
Upon this mount of royally, by kingd grac'd.
Queens, prince, dukes, nobles, more by numbering
gain'd
Than can be in this narrow sphere conlain'd ;
Seven kings, five queens, only one prince alone,
Eight dukes, two earls, Flanlagenets twenty-one;
All these of this fraternity made free,
Brothers and sisters of this Company :
'' Jllholliinlide] A corrupcio[i of AU-holJovE-tidi!.
I
LOVE AND ANTIQUITY,
And se.
For what society tlic wbole city brings
Can wilh such ornaments adorn their kin
Their only robes of stale, when they c
To ride most glorious to high parliament I
And mark in this their royal intent still ;
For when it pleaa'd the goodness of their will
To put the richest robes of their loves on
To the whole city, the moat ever came
To this Society, which records here prove.
Adorning their adorners with their love ;
Which was a kingly equity.
Be careful then, great lord, to bring forth deeds
To match that honour that from hence proceeds.
At the close of which speech the whole Triumph
takes leave of his lordship for that lime ; and, till
after the feaat at Guildhall, rests from service.
His lordship, accompanied with many noble per-
sonages ; the honourable fellowship of ancient ma-
gistrates and aldermen of this city; the two new
sheriffs, the one of his own fraternity (the com-
plete Brotherhood of Skinners), the right worshipful
master sheriff Dean, a very bountiful and worthy
citizen : not forgetting the noble pains and loves
of the heroic captains of the city, and gentlemen of
the Artillery -garden," making, with two glorious
ranks, a manly and majestic passage for their lord-
general, his lordship, thorough Guildhall-yard \ and
aAerward their loves to his lordship resounding in
a second noble volley.
Now, that all the hoi
s before mentioned in that
' JrliUerygardnl See □
iU TBB TRicHpas or
ParliaiDent, or Mount of Royally, may arrive at a
clear and perfect manifestation, to prevent' the over-
curious and inquisitive spirit, the names and times
of those kings, queens, prince, dukes, and nobles,
free of the honourable Fraternity of Skinners in
I<ondon, shall here receive iheir proper illuBtra-
tions.
Anno 1.-129. King Ed«r«rd the Third, Planta-
genet, by whom, in the first of his reign, this worthy
Society of Skinners was incorporate, he iheir first
royal founder and brother; queen Philip his wife,
younger daughter of William Earl ofHenault, the
first royal sister ; 30 gloriously virtuous that she is
a rich ornament to memory ; she both founded and
endowed Queen's College in Oxford, to the con-
tinuing estate of which I myself wish all happiness ;
this queen at her death desired ibFee courtesies,
some of which are rare in these days ; first, that
her debts might be paid to the merchants ; secondly,
that her gifts to the church might be performed ;
thirdly, that the king, when he died, would at West-
minster be interred with her.
Anno 1357- Edward Plantagenet, surnamed ihe
Black Prince, son to Edward the Third, Prince of
Wales. Duke of Guienne, Aquitaine, and Cornwall,
Earl Palatine of Chester. In the battle of Poictiers
in France, he, with 8000 English against 60,000
French, got the victory; took the king, Philip his
son, seventeen earls, with divers other noble per-
sonages, prisoners.
King Kichard the Second, Plantagenet. This
king being the third royal brother of this honour-
able Company, and at that time the Society con-
• pmwnf] i. p. BWieipBle.
LOVE AND ANTIQUITY. S85
sisting of two brotherhoods of Corpus Christi, the
one at St. Mary Spittle, the other at St. Mary Beth-
lem without Bishops^ate, iu the eighteenth of his
reign granted them to make their two brother-
hoods one, by the name of the FrBlernity ofCorpus
Christ! of Skinners, which worthy title shinea at
this day gloriously atnongai 'era ; and toward the
end of this king's reign, 1396, a great feast was
celebrated in Westminster Hall, where the lord
mayor of this city sate as guest.
Anno 13S1. Queen Anne, his wife, daughter to
the Emperor Charles the Fourth, and sister to
[the] Emperor Wenceslaus, whose modesty then
may make this age blush now, she being the first
that taught women to ride sideling on horseback;
but who it was that taught 'em to ride straddling,
there is no records so immodest that can shew
me, only the impudent lime and the open profes-
sion. This fair precedent of womanhood died at
Sheen, now Richmond ; for grief whereof King
Richard her lord abandoned and defaced that goodly
house.
Anno 1399. King Henry tlie Fourth, Plantagenet,
surnamed Bolingbroke, a fourth royal brother. In
his time the famous Guildhall in London was erected,
where the honourable courts of the city are kepi,
and this bounteous feast yearly celebrnted. In the
twelfth year of his reign the river of Thames flowed
thrice in one day.
Queen Joan, or Jane, Duchess ofBrelagne, late
wife to John Duke of Bretague, and daughter to the
Kiug of Navarre, another princely sister.
Anno 1412. King Henry the Fifth, Plantagenet,
Prince of Wales, proclaimed Mayor arid Regent of
France: he won that famous victory on the French
at tlie battle of Agincourt.
286 THE TRIUMPHS OF
Queen Catherine, his wife, daughter to Charles
the Sixth, King of France,
King Henry ihe Sixth, Planlagenet, of the house
of Lancaster.
King Edward the Fourth, Plantagenet, of the
houae of York. This king feaatcd the lord mayor,
Richard Chawry, and the aldenoen his brethren,
with certain commoners, in Waliham Forest : after
dinner rode a-hunting with the king, who gare him
plenty of lenison, and sent to the lady mayoress
and her sisters the aldermen's wives, two harts, six
bucks, and a tun of wine, to make merry ; and this
noble feast was kept at Drapers' Hall.
Anno 14G3. Queen Eliiabeth Grey, his wife,
daughter to Richard Woodville, Earl Rivers, and
to the Duchess of Bedford; she was mother to the
Lord Grey of Ruthin, that in his time was Mar-
quis Dorset.
King Richard the Third, brother to Edward the
Fourth, Duke of Gloucester, and of the house of
York.
Lionel Plantagenet, tiiird son to the third Ed-
ward, Duke of Clarence and Earl of Ulster: Philip
his daughter and heir married Edward Mortimer,
Earl of March, from whom the house of York
descends.
Henry Plantagenet, grandchild to EdmondCrouch-
back, second son to Henry the Third.
Richard Plantagenet, father of Edward the Fourth,
Duke of York and Albemarle, Earl of Cambridge,
Rutland, March, Clare, and Ulster.
Thomas Plantagenet, second son of Henry the
Fourth,
John Plantagenet, third son of Henry the Fourth;
so noble a soldier, and so great a terror to the
French, that when Charles the Eighth was moved
LOVE AND ANTiaUITY.
to deface liis monument — being buried in Rouen — ■
the king thus answerei!,^ — -"Pray, let him rest !n
peace being dead, of nliom we were all afraid when
he lived."
Humfrey Plantagenet, fourth son of Henry the
Fourth.
John Holland, Dake of Exeler.
George Plantagenet, brother to Edward the
Fourth.
Edniond Planlagenci, brother to Edward the
Fourth.
Richard NeTille, Earl of Salisbury and Warwick,
called the Great Earl ofWarwick.
John Cornwall Knight, Baron Fanhope.
The royal mm.
Seven kings, five queens, one prince, seven dukes,
e earl ; twenty-one Plantagencts,
Seven kings, five queens
e prince, eight dukes,
two earls, one lord ; twenty-four Skin
The feast ended at Guildhall, his lordshij
yearly custom invites it, goes, accompanied
the Triumph before him, towards St. Paul'i
perform the noble and reverend ceremonies n
divine antiquity religiously ordained, and are
less than faithfully observed. Holy service
ceremonies accomplished, his lordship return
torchlight to his own house, the whole Triii
placed in comely and decent order before him ;
Wilderness: the Sanciuary of Fame, adorned
lights; the Parliament of Honour; and the Tr
pbant Chariot of Love, with his graceful
' ore] 01d«d."ia."
TttB TRitniPH* or
. the chariot drawn with two luieras. "
Near to the entrance or his lordBhip'i gate. Love,
prepared with his welcome, thus salutes him :
LovB.
1 was the first, grave lord, that welcom'd thee
To ihis day's honour, and I spake it free,
Just as in every heart I found it plac'd,
And 'tia my turn again now to speak last ;
For love is circular, like the bright sun.
And takes delight to end where it begun.
Though indeed never ending in true will.
But rather may be said beginning still.
As all great works are of celestial birth,
or which lore is the chief in heaven and earth.
To what blest slate then are thy forlunes come.
Since that Imih brought thee forth and brings thee
home?
Now, as in common course, which clears things best,
There's no free gill but looks for thanks at least ;
A love 80 bountiful, so free, so good.
From the whole city, from ihy brotherhood —
That name I ought a while to dwell upon —
Expect some fair requital from the man
They've all bo largely honour'd: what's desir'd?
That which in conscience ought to be reqnir'd ;
O, thank 'em in thy justice, in thy care,
Zeal to right wrongs, works that are clear and fair.
And will become thy soul, whence virtue springs.
As those rich ornaments thy brother-kings.
' luiimj] GenerlUy said lo be T(u«>ian animsli vnlueil for
tlieir fur; but, I apprehend, Middleton uied (he vord in the
■enae af lynxrs. " A Luzame. Loup eirvier," gayi Colgrave,
who explBin* ihe French lerm, '■ s kind of while Wolfe," or
>' ihe siiDtleii Lioi, or Ounce, or a kind therot" See, I
Minaheu in
>. Luxarnt and Fiim.
AND ANTieUlTY.
Aod since we cannot separate love aad care —
For where care is, a love must needs be tliere.
And care where love is, 'tis the man and wife,
Through every estate that's fix'd in life —
You are by this the city's bridegroom prov'd.
And ahe stands wedded to her best belov'd :
Then be, according to your morning vows,
A careful husband to o loving spouse ;
Am! heaven give you great joy, — both it and thee.
And to all those that shall match after ye !
The names of those beasts bearing Jitr, and now in use
Ktlk the bountiful Societu of Skinners, Ike moit of
which presented in the fVtUtemess, mkere Orpheus
jpredominales.
Ermine, foine, sables, martin, badger, bear,
Luzern, budge, otter, hipponesse, and hare,
Lamb, wolf, fox, leopard, minx, stot, miniver.
Racoon, moashy, wolverin, caliber,
Squirrel, mole, cat, musk, civet, wild and tame,
Cony, white, yellow, black, must have a name.
The ounce, rowsgray, ginnet, pampilion ;
Of birds the vulture, bitter, estridge,' swan :
Some worn for ornament, and some for health.
All to the Skinners' art bring fame and wealth.
The service being thus faithfully performed, both
to his lordship's honour and to the credit and con-
tent of his most generously bountiful Society, the
season commends all to silence; yet not without a
little leave taken to reward art with the comely
dues that belong unto it, which hath been so richly
expressed in the body of the Triumph with all the
triige] J.
290 THE TRiuMpns or love afd antiquiiv.
proper beauties of workmanship, that the city may,
without injury to juilgtnent, call it the niasterpiect
ofher triumphs ; the credit of which workmanship
I must justly lay upon the deserts of master Garret
Crismas' and master Koberi Norman, joined-pait-
ncrs in the performance.
' Crumai] Or Chriilmai.—" Al Ibe end uf lhi« [pageant,—
Heywood'i leudM Arlinm »t SHtiHiamm Scalarigi,, &c 1632]
ii a fiuiegjric on HaUlcr Cierard Chriilmas, for brineing Uie
ptgeaiM and figures to such grcst perfection both in ajin-
inctry snd subitance, being twlbre bul unthapen moniwrG,
made onlyoriligbl wicker and paper. This man deiignEil
Aldeiigste, and csrved the equetlrion italue oC Jaoie* I
there, and the old piece of Northumberland home." Bing.
Drain., vol. lii. p. IIH.
THE SUN IN ARIES.
Fralrmilg i^ Draptrt. At W
r( Wirrlhy Brother Ihe Riglit Hani
Aaii, ra tht high qffict o/hit Main
rablt, Edteard Burk-
:t LieHltnaxI, Ihe lord Maie
1^ Iht /omau Cilie ef London. Taking btgifim*g si
It Oalh of Umarally al O'lilna
rttHmeJnm rtctnang
[and] Jedrt dag. ttiiig Iht 29. o/Octabtr. IG21. By Tho. Uid-
dlilan. Gnt. At limdoi, .- Primed bg Ed. All-de, for H. O.
Reprioled in NiehoU'i Progri:
To lift hotumr o/* Aim la wham the noble Frattrmttf «^
Dnipers, hie umrthg hrothern, harr dedirated thrir
lovei in eottig Triump/u. Ihf Eighl Uonimrabk
Edwakd Barkbam. Lard Mayor of Ihh renatentd
Gig.
YoDR Honour being the centre where the lines
Of this day's gtoriouB circle meets and joins.
Love, joy, cost, triumph, all by you made blest.
There does my service too desire to rear.
At your Lordship's commaiul.
Tho. Midolbtok.
THE SUN IN ARIES.
Pisces being the last of the signs and the wane of
the Sun's glory, hon fitly and desi'redly now the
SuD enters into Aries, for the comfort and refreshing
of the creatures, and may be properly called the
spring-time of right and justice, observed by the
shepherd's calendar in the mountain, lo prove a
happy year for poor men's causes, widows' and
orphans' comforts ; so much to make good the
Sun's entrance into that noble sign ; I doubt not
but the beams of bis justice will make good them-
selves.
And first to begin with the worthy love of his
honourable Society to his lordship, aflcr his honour's
return from Westminster, having received some ser-
vice upon the water. The first Triumph by land
attends his lordship's most wished arrival in Paul's-
Churchyard, which is a chariot most artfully framed
and adorned, bearing the title of the Chariot of
Honour; in which chariot many worthies are placed
that have got trophies of honour by their labours
and deserts ; such as Jason, whose illuslralion of
honour is the golden fleece; Hercules with bis ne
plus ultra upon pilasters of silver; a fair globe for
conquering Alexander ; a gilt laurel for triumphant
CKsar, &c. Jason, at the approach of his lordship,
being the personage most proper, by his mani-
festation, for the Society's honour, lends a voice to
these following words :
Be &Tourablr, Fues, and a &tr cky
Smife on this expediuoa ! Phtebu' rjK,
Look cbeerfiiUy ! the bark b vaitt nQ
For a jear'i loyage, and a bInaM gaJc
Be ever oith it ■ 'lu for justice botmd.
A coaal that's not by every compaM Tound,
E'Ai>d ^oei for honour, life's rtKMt pcecioos tradm|[ :
K'liaj U retara vith most lUustriout lading*
P>A thing both wtxh'd and bt^'d for. I am be,
pTo all adrentuRNu roya^es a fiee
d bountiful weD-wnber, by my name
* ' * ttoa, firat adTdttnrer for (ame.
ElW meiBory of aQ pen!
dby Ibe
aU pel
noUe
daiuer, ]
lot her CI
■ hopes of Greece,
e of the firat bcotbeia on rceord
it lord.
_ _ . M>iir got bj danger. So, great k . _
[ Yberc it ao voyage aet fottb to renowu,
Xhal does not aonwtwaea neei <aiib skJes that frown.
With gust* of enTj, billows of despite.
Which makes the porchase, oikce aduev'd, toor*
bt^bl.
Slate is a aea ; be must be wise indeed
_ Thai sonnda its depth, or can the qaicksaods bc«d :
I And honour b so nice and rare a prise.
F In waich'd by dragons, tcooiimku enemies ;
f Then no small care belongs lo't : but aa I,
^ 'Wiifa my asaistmg Argonaola, did try
. The utiKMt of adrentiire. and with b * '
Andc. - - -
Whose aittsuation Jecka tay Bcoaory
Tbrottgh all postrritiea, d
>t couiage bioi^bt tke leece of gold.
Liation oecka tay Bcaaory
*««fcU
I
I
So, man of merit, never faint or fear;
Thou hast ih' asaiatance of grave senatora here.
Thy worthy brethren, some of which have past
AH dangeroua gulfs, and in their bright fames plac'd.
They can instruct and guide thee, and each one
That must adventure, and are coming on
To this great expedition ; they will be
Cheerful and forward to encourage thee ;
And blessings fall in a most infinite aum
Soth on those past, thyself, and those to come !
Passing from this, and more to encourage the
labour of the magistrate, he is now conducted to
the maater Triumph, called the Tower of Virtue,
which for the strength, safety, and perpetuity, bears
the name of the Brazen Tower; of which Integrity
keeps [he keys, virtue being indeed as a brazen
wall to a city or commonwealth ; and to illustrate
the prosperity it brings Co a kingdom, the Cop tur-
rets or pinnacles of this Brazen Tower shine bright
like gold; and upon the gilded battlements thereof
stand six knights, three in silvered and three in gilt
armour, as Virtue's standard-bearers or champions,
holding six little streamers or silver bannerets, in
each of which are displayed the arms of a noble
brother and benefactor, Fame sounding forth their
praises to the world, for the encouragement of after-
ages, and Antiquity, the register of Fame, contain-
ing in her golden legend their names and titles;
as that of Sir Henry Fiti-Alwin, draper, lord mayor
four-and- twenty years together ; Sir John Norman,
the first that was rowed in barge to Westminster
with silver oars, at his own cost and charges ; Sir
Francis Drake, the son of Fame, who in two years
and ten months did cast a girdle ahout the world ;
the unparalleled Sir Simon Eyre, whu built Leaden-
hkU St bis own coat, a sUk-Ikmm far dw |
bocii in the apper lofti and
and ■tenwrable Sir Richard C
MilberB^ Wo boHHiiAil bene&ctan; Sir Bidnrd
Hardril, n the seat of magiitncy aix yvan to*
mtber ; Sir Joha PooIumj, fotir jetn, wbiA Sir
Jolio Ibunded a eoll^e in the puiah of St. Lftw-
renee Pooltaey, bj Caad]Mnek Street ; John Hiode,
a re-ediSer of the pariih chordt oTSl. Switfaio bj
Loodon Stone ; Sir Richard Pine, who being free
of the Leather-Mllera, was ako boin ibem mulsied
t and howMrafaleSodMyafDtapcfs;
) the hoaoor and •erriee of ihe
From the tower, Fane, m pBraoaagB
properlj adorned, thai talutea the greot MMWrr of
the daj and triamph :
Tie MiHtolien o^Fami. -M
WdcoiDe to Vtrtue't (brtren, itroag and eleor ! ^
Tbou art not only aafe bat gkniotu here ; '
It ia a lower of bnghtaesa : such U Truth,
Whose ■trengtb and grace fed* a perpetual jonth ;
The wall* are brau, the pTranids (toe g(^
Which shewi 'tis Safety'* and Prosperity'* hold ;
Clear Cooscience ia lieutetxant ; Providence there,
Watchfulness, Wisdam, Constaacj, Zeal, Care,
Are the six warders keep the watch-tower sure.
That nothing enters bat what'* just and pare ;
For nhich effect, batli to aSrighl and shame
All slothful bloods that blush to look oo Fante,
An ensign of good actions each displays, _
That worthy works may justly own their |i
-foti] Oid ed. - tttixr
And which is clearliest to be understood.
Thine shines ainidst thy glorious brotherhood,
Circled with arms of honour by those past,
Ab now with love's arras by the present grac'd ;
And how ihy word*' does thy true worth display,
Fortuiue mater Diligenlia,
Fair Fortune's mother, all may rend and see,
Is Diligence, endeavouring industry.
See here the glory oi* illustrious acts,
AH of thy own fraternity, whose tracts
'Tie comely to pursue, all thy life's race,
Takmg their virtues as thou hold'sc their place ;
Some, col lege- founders, lemple-beHutiliers,
Whose blest souls sing now in celestial cjuires ;
Erecters some of granaries for the poor.
Though now converted to some rich men's store, —
The more the age's misery ! some so rare
For this fam'd city's government and care,
They kept the seat four years, with a fair name ;
Some, six ; but one, the miracle of fame.
Which no society or lime can match,
Twenty-four years complete ; he was Truth's watch,
He went so right and even, and the hand
Of that fair motion bribe could ne'er make stand ;
And as men set their watches by the sun.
Set justice but by that which he has done,
And keep it even ; so, from men to men.
No magistrate need stir the work agen :'
It lights into a noble hand to-day.
And has past many — many more it may.
By this Tower of Virtue — his lordship being
gracefully conducted toward the new Standard —
one in a cloudy, ruinous habit, leaning upon the
ri] ti ».
^i il I'r I , ^
r
T« W i> —ik i> a>' aM a< B^
£*<■ ■* >^ iBliMii Ifcaa'dat s pcM
nat nn kri bd, >kn k fax nod bMii
llw«irlW»€«ail llll W ■■■iiniii. Mdp
»oL IT. p. rtl.
I
I
Presented by the city : lose not then
A praise so dear, beatow'd not on all
Strive to preserve this famous city's peace,
Begun by yon first king, which does '
Now by the last ; from Henry that ji
To James that unites kingdoma, who encloses
All in the arms of love, malic'd of none ;
Our hearts find thai, when neighbouring kingdoms
Which in the magistrate's diity may well move
A zealous care, in all a thankful love.
After this, for the full close of the forenoon's
Triumph, near St. Laurence-Lane stands a moun-
tain, artfully raised and replenished with fine woolly
creatures ; Phtcbus on the top, shining in a full
glory, being circled with the Twelve Celestial
Signs. Aries, placed near the principal rays, the
proper sign for illustration, thus greets his lord-
ship:
Bright ihoughtB, joy, and alacrity of heart
Bless thy great undertakings! 'tis the part
And property of Phoebus with his rays
To cheer and to illumine good men's ways ;
Eagle-ey'd actions, that dare behold
His sparkling globe depart tried nil like gold;
'Tis bribery and injustice, deeds of night,
That fly the sunbeam, which makes good works
Thine look iipon't undaz^led i as one beam
Faces another, as we match a gem
With her refulgent fellow, from thy worth
Example sparkles as a star shoots forth.
This Mount, the type of eminence and place,
Resembles magistracy's seat and grace ;
302
THE sun IN ARIES.
Tlie Sun the magistrate himself implies ;
These woolly creatures, all that part which lies
Utider his charge and office ; not unfit,
Since kings and rulers are, in holy writ,
With shepherds parallel'd, nay, from shepherds
rear'd.
And people and the flock as oft coher'd.
Now, as it is the bounty of the sun
To spread his splendours and make gladness run
Over the drooping creatures, it ought ho
To be his proper virtue, that does owe
To justice his life's flame, shot from above,
To cheer oppressed right with looks of love;
Which nothing doubted, Truth's reward light on
you.
The beams of all clear comforts shine upon youl
The great feast ended, the whole state of the
Triumph attends upon his lordship, both to Paul's
and homeward; and near the entrance of his lord-
ship's house, two parts of the Triumph stand ready
planted, viz. the Brazen Tower and the triple-
crowned Fountain of Justice, this fountain being
adorned with the lively flgurcs of all those graces
and virtues which belong to the faithful discharging
nf BO high an office; as Justice, Sincerity, Meek-
ness, Wisdom, Providence, Equality, Industry,
Truth, Peace, Patience, Hope, Harmony, all illus-
trated by proper emblems and expressions ; as.
Justice by a sword ; Sincerity by a lamb ; Meekness
by a dove; Wisdom by a serpent; Providence by
an eagle ; Equality by a silvered balance ; Industry
by a golden ball, on which stands a Cupid, inti-
mating that industry brings both wealth and love ;
Truth with a fan of stars, with which she chases
away Error; Peace with a branch of laurel; Putience
THE BUM IH ARIES.
303
a aprig of palm ; Hope by a silvered anchor ; Har-
mony by a swan ; each at night holding a bright-
burning taper in her hand, as a manifestation of
purity. His lordship being in sight, and drawing
near to his entrance, Fame, from the Brazen Tower,
closes up the Triumph — his lordship's honourable
welcome, with the noble demonstration of his
worthy fraternity's aSection — in this concluding
Fame.
I cannot better the comparison
Of thy fair brotherhood's love than to the sun
After a great eclipse; for as the sphere
Of that celestial motion shines more clear
After the interposing part is spent.
Than to the eye before the darkness went
Over the bright orb ; so their love is shewn
With a content past expectation,
A care that has been comely, and a cost
That has been decent, cheerful, which ia most.
Fit for the service of bo great a state.
So fam'd a city, and a magistrate
So worthy of it ; all has been bestow'd
Upon thy triumph, which has clearly shew'd
The loves of ihy fraternity as great
For iliy first welcome to thy honoured seat ;
And happily is cost requited then.
When men grace triumphs more than triumphs men :
Diamonds will shine though set in lead ; true worth
Stands always in least need of setting forth.
What makes less noise than merit ? or less show
Than virtue? 'tis the undescrvers owe
All to vain-glory and to rumour still,
Building their praises on the vulgar will ;
I
304
THB SUN IM ARIES.
All tlieir good is without 'em, not their own ;
When wise men to their virtues are best known.
Behold yon Fountain with rhe tripled crown.
And through a cloud the siinbeani piercing down ;
So is the worthy magistrate made up ;
The triple crown is Charity, Faiih, and Hope,
Those three celeatiol sisters; the cloud too,
That's Care, and yet you see the beam strikes
through ;
A care discharg'd with honour it presages,
And may it so continue lo all ages I
It is thy brotherhood's arms ; how well it fits
Both thee and all that for Truth's honour sits I
The time of rest draws near; triumph must ceaie;
Joy to ihy heart — to all a blessed peace !
For the frame-work of the whole Triumph, with
all the proper beauties of workmanship, the credit
of that justly appertains to the deserts of master
Garret Crismaa,' a man excellent in hJa art, and
faithful in hia performances.
■ Crimai] See note, p. 290.
1
THE TRIUMPHS OF INTEGRITY.
i}
\
The Trivmplii of Inlegrily. A \oble SoletimUi), performtd
through the Cilif, al Ihi loU Coil and Chargtt nf the Nonorabli
Fralentity of Draper; at the Canfirmalion md EitaUUhment nf
their mat umrlhif Brother, the Right Honorable, Martin Ltmdey,
M tht high Office of hie Uaicitiet Lieutenant, Lord Major and
Chamnllor of the fammii Cily -if Lmdan. Taking btgiming al
his Lardthipi gang, and pitficling it lelfe nftir Hii Rttamt
from reriiuing Ihf Oath of Matoralttj at Weitmniiir.on Iht MoT'
row after Simon and Judei Day, being the 29, ef October. I82S.
By The. Uiddletan Gent. London, Prinlid fry Sichidae Okie,
diMlling in Faiter-Lane. 1623. 4lo.
To the honour of hhn to whom the noble Fratimity of
Draper$, hU worthy brothers, have eoraecrattd their
lovei in eotlly THumphM, the Right Honourable
Mabtik LtiMLBT, Lord Mayor of thit renowned
City.
THt descent worthy, fortune's early grace.
Sprung of an ancient and most generous race,
Match'd with a virtuous lady, justly may
Challenge the honour of bo great a day.
Fftithftllly de\'oted to the worthiness of you both,
Tho. Middleton.
their I
■oMe I
TRIUMPHS OP INTEGRITY}
A NOBLE SOLEMNITY THROUGH THE CITY.
I
Of all solemnities by which the bappy inauguration
of a subject ia celebrated, I find none that iran-
Hcends the state and magnificence of that pomp
prepared to receive his Majesty's great substitute
into his honourable charge, the city of London,
dignified by the title of the King's Chamber Royal ;
which, that it may now appear no kss heightened
with brotherly atfection, coat, art, or invention,
than some other preceding triunipha — by which
of late times the city's honour hath been more
faithfully illustrated — this takes its fit occasion to
present itself.
And first to specify the love of his noble frater-
nity, after his lordship's return from Westminster,
having received some service upon the water by a
proper and significant masterpiece of triumph called
the Imperial Canopy, being the ancient arms of the
Company, an invention neither old nor enforced,
the same glorious and apt property,* accompanied
prapfr/i/l i.
tele [or tbc (lageant — a ilie:
310
TB8 TEIUHPHS OF IIJIEORITY.
with four other triumphal pegmes,'' are, in their
convenient stages, planted to honour his lordship'a
progress through the city: the first for the land,
attending his most wished arrival in Paul's-Church-
yard, nhich bears the inscription of a Mount Royal,
on nhich mount are placed certain kings and great
commanders, which ancient history produces, that
were originally sprung from shepherds and humble
beginnings: only the number of six presented;
some with crowns, some with gilt laurels, holding
in their hands silver sheep-hooks; viz. Viriat, a
prime commander of the Portugals — renowned
amongst the historians, especially the Romans —
who, in battles of fourteen years' continuance, pur-
chased many great and honourable victories ; Ar-
■aces, king of the Parthians, who ordained the first
kingdom that ever was amongst them, and in the
reverence of this king's name and memory all others
hia successors were called Arsacides af\er his name,
as the Roman emperors took the name of Caesar
for the love of great Caisar Augustus ; also Marcus
JuliusLucinus; Bohemia's Prim islaus ; the emperor
Pertinax; the great victor Tamburlain, conqueror
of Syria, Armenia, Babylon, Mesopotamia, Scythia,
Albania, &c. Many honourable worthies more I
could produce, by their deserts ennobling their
mean originals ; but for the better expression of
the purpose in hand, a speaker lends a voice to
these following words :
The speech in the Mount Royal.
They that with glory-in flam'd hearts desire
To see great worth deservingly aspire,
Let 'em draw near and fix a serious eye
On this triumphant Mount of Royalty ;
■ Facciolmi, Lex. h
THE TRIUMPHS OF INTEGRITY. 311
Here tbey sliall find fair Virtue, and her name.
From low, obscure beginnings, rais'd lo fame,
Like light struck out of darkness : the mean nombs
No more eclipse brave merit than rich tombs
Make the soui happy ; 'tis the life and dying
Crowns both with honour's sacred satisfying ;
And 'tis the noblest splendour upon earth
o adit a glory to his birth.
I
All his life's race with honoui
Than to be nobly born, and there stand fix'd,
As if 'twere competent virtue for whole life
To be begot a lord: 'tis virtuous strife
That makes the complete Christian, not high place.
As true submission is the state of grace :
The path to bliss lies in the humblest field ;
Who ever rise'' to heaven that never kneei'd?
Although the roof hath supernatural height,
Yet there's no flesh can thither go upright.
All this is instanc'd only to commend
The low condition whence these kings descend.
I spare the prince of prophets" in this file.
And preserve him for a far holier style.
Who, being king anointed, did not scorn
To be a shepherd after : these were born
Shepherds, and rise to kings ; took their ascending
From the strong hand of Virtue, never ending
Where slie begins to raise, until she place
Her love-sick servants etjual with her grace :
And by this day's great honour it appears
Sh'as much prevail'd amongst the reverend years
Of these grave senators ; chief of the rest,
Her favour hath reflected most and best
Upon that son whom we of honour call ;
And may't successively reflect on all !
■ pHitet o/prapheli] " Daviii," Marg. note hi old ed.
THE TEIUMPHJ OF INTEOBtTT.
S12
From this Maunt Royal, beautified with the glory
of (leservi|ig aspirers, descend ne to the modern
uie of tliia ancient and honourable mystery, and
ibere ne aliall 6nd the wliole livery of this most
renowned and famous city, as upon this day, at all
solemn meetings furnished by it: it clothes the
honourable senators in their highest and richest
trearings, all courts of justice, magistrates, and
judges of the land.
By this lime his lordship and the worthy Com-
pany bein^ gracefully conducted toward the Little
Conduit in Cheap, there another part of the Triumph
wails his honour's happy approBch, being a chariot
artfully framed and properly garnished ; and on the
conspicuous part thereof is placed the register of
all heroic acts and worthy men, bearing the title of
Sacred Memory, who, for the greater fame of thia
honourable fraternity, presents the never-dying
names of many memorable and remarkable wor-
thies of this ancient Society, such as were the fantoua
for state and government: Sir Henry Fiis-Alwin,
Knight, who held the seat of magistracy in this city
twenty-four years together ; he siis figured under
the person of Government: Sir John Norman, the
first lord mayor rowed in barge to Westminster
with silver oars at his own cost and charges, under
the person of Honour : the valiant Sir Francis
Drake, that rich ornament to memory, who in two
years and ten months' space did cast a girdle about
the world, under the person of Victory : Sir Simon
Eyre, who at his own cost built Leadenhall, a gra-
nary for ibe poor, under the figure of Charity:
Sir Richard Champion and Sir John Milborne, under
the person of Munificence or Bounty : Sir Richard
Hardelt and Sir John Poultney, the one in the seat
of magistracy six yearfi, the other four years to-
t?.
TRE TRIUMPHS OF INTECHITT. 313
getlier, under the figures of Justice and Piety, that
Sir John being a college- founder in the parish of
St. Laurence Poultney, by Candlenick Street; et
sit de cfterii : this Chariot drawn by two pelleted
lions, being the proper supporters of the Company's
arras; those two upon the lions presenting Power
and Honour, the one in a little streamer or banneret
bearing the Lord Mayor's arms, the other the Com-
pany's.
The tpeech in the Chariot.
I am all Memory, and meihinks I see
Into the farthest time, act, quality,
As clear as if 'twere now begun agen,''
The natures, dispositions, and the men:
I find to goodness they all bent their powers.
Which very name makes blushing times of ours ;
They heap'd up virtues long before they were old,
This age sits laughing upon heaps of gold;
We by great buildings strive to raise our names,
But they more truly wise built up their fames.
Erected fair examples, large and high.
Patterns for us to build our honours by ;
For instance only. Memory relates
The noblest of all city -magistrates.
Famous Fiti-Alwin ; naming him alone,
I sum up twenty-four lord mayors in one,
For he, by free election and consent,
Fill'd all those years with virtuous government:
Custom and time Tefjuiring now but one,
How ought that year to be well dwelt upon !
It should appear an abstract of that worth
Which former times in many years brought forth :
Through all the life of man this is the year
Which many wish and never can come near ;
' i«r»] See note, \>. 182.
Think, and give thanks ; to whom thii year does
The greatest subject's made in Christendom :
This is the year for whom some long prepar'd.
And others have their glorious fortune sbar'd ;
But serious in thanksgiving; 'tis a year
To which all virtues, like the people here.
Should throng nnd cleave togi?iber, for the place
[a a ill maieh for the whole stock of grace ;
And as men gather wealth 'gainst the year comes.
So should lliey gather goodness with their suma;
For 'tts not shows, pomp, nor a house of slate
Curiously dcck'd, rliat makes a magistrate;
'Tis his fair, noble soul, his wisdom, care,
His upriglit justness to the oath he sware,
Gives him complete: when such a man lu me
Spreads his arms open, there my palace be!
He's both an honour to the d^y so grac'd.
And to his brotherhood's love, that sees bim plac'd ;
And in hia fair deportment there revives
The ancient fame of all his brothers' lives.
Afler this, for the full close of ibe forenoon's
triumph, near St. Laurence-Lane his lordship re-
ceives an entertainment from an unparalleled mas-
terpiece of art, called the Crystal Sanctuary, styled
by the name of the Temple of Integrity, where her
immaculate self, with all her glorious and sanctimo-
nious concomitants, sit, transparently seen through
the crystal ; and more to express the invention and
the art of the engineer, as also for motion, variety,
and the content of the spectators, this Crystal
Temple is made to open in many parts, at fit and
convenient times, and upon occasion of the speech :
the columns or pillars of this Crystal Sanctuary are
gold, the battlements silver, the whole fabric for
THE TRIUMFRI or INTEOHITY.
the night -triunipli adorned and beautified with
many lights, dispersing their glorious radtancea on
all sides thorough the crystal.
The speech from the Sanctuary,
Have you a mind, thick multitude, to see
A virtue near concerns magistracy.
Here on my temple throw your greedy eyen.
See me, and learn to know me, then you're wise ;
Look and look through me, I no favour crave,
Nor keep 1 hid the goodness you should have ;
'Tis all transparent what I think or do,
And with one look your eye may pierce rae through ;
There's no disguise or bypocritic veil,
Us'd by aduherous beauty set to sale.
Spread o'er my actions for respect or fear,
Only a crystal, which approves* me clear.
Would you desire my name? Integrity,
One that is ever what she seems to he ;
So manifesi, perspicuous, plain, and clear.
You may e'en see my thoughts as they sit here;
I think upon fair Equity and Truth,
And there they ail crown'd with eternal youth ;
I tin my cogitations upon love.
Peace, meekness, and those thoughts come from
above :
The temple of an upright magistrate
Is my fair sanctuary, throne, and stale;'
And as I dare Detraction's evill'st eye,
Sore at the sight of goodness, to espy |
Into my ways and actions, which lie ope
To every censure, arm'd with a strong hope, —
So of your pan ought nothing to he done,
But what the envious eye might look upon :
31C THE TKtUMFIlfl or INTEOMTT,
As ihou an eminent, so must tliy nets
He all lr:ilucent,i anj leave tvorthy tracts
For fuitirc times to linJ, tliy very breast
Transparent, like tliis place nlierein 1 ri;st.
Vain doubtings 1 all thy days have lie«n so clear,
Never catnc nobler hope to fill a year.
At llic close or this speech this cryslnl Temple
of Integrity, with all lier celestial concomitants and
the other parts of Triumph, lake leave of his lord-
ship for that time, and rest from service till the
great feast be ended; after which the whole body
of the Triumph attends upon his honour, both lo-
ivards Saint Paul's and homeward, his lordship
accompanied with the grave and honourable sena-
tors of the city, amongst whom the two worthy
consuls, his lordship's grave assistants for the
year, the worshipful ancf generous master Ralph
Freemsn and master Thomas Moulson, sheriffs and
aldermen, ought not to pass of my respect unre-
mbered, wbose bounty and nobleness will prove
it thei
e entrance of Wood Street, that part of
Triumph being planted to which the concluding
speech hnth chiefly reference, and the rest about
the Cross, I thought fit in this place to give this its
full illustration, it being an invention both glorious
and proper to the Company, bearing the name of
the thrice-royal Canopy of Slate, being the honoured
arms of this fraternity, the three Imperial Crowns
cast into the form and bigness of a triumphal page>
ant, with cloud and sunbeams, those beams, by en-
ginoua'' art, made often to mount and spread like b
golden and glorious canopy over the deified persons
K.]!.
e GifTord's
a D. loL
that are placed under it, which are eight in number,
figuring the eight Beatitudes; lo improve which*
conceit, Beali pacifici, being the king's word or
motto, ia aet in fair great letters near the uppermost
of the three crowns ; and as in all great edifices or
buildings the king's arras is especially remembered,
as a[n] honour to the building and builder, in the
frontispiece, so is it comely and requisite in these
matters of Triumph, framed for the inauguration
of his great substitute, the lord mayor of London,
that some remembrance of honour should reflect
upon his majesty, by whose peaceful government,
under heaven, we enjoy the solemnity,
The speech, liaving reference to this Imperial Canopy,
being the Drapers' armt.
The blessedness, peace, honour, and renown.
This kingdom does enjoy, under the crown
Worn by that royal peace-maker our king,
So oft prescrv'd from dangers menacing.
Makes this arms, glorious in itself, outgo
All that antiquity could ever shew ;
And thy fraternity hath striv'd t' appear
In all their course worthy the arms they bear ;
Thrice have they crown'd their goodness this one
With love, with care, with cost ; by which they may,
By their deserts, most justly these arms claim.
Got once by worth, now trebly held by fame.
Shall I bring honour to a larger field.
And shew what royal business these arms yield ?
First, the Three Crowns afford' a divine scope.
Set for the graces. Charity, Faith, and Hope,
Which three the only safe combiners be
Of kingdoms, crowns, and every company;
■ wAJcA] OM ed. •■ with," ' afford'\ Old eil. " sffbrdi."
Likewise, ivith just propriety ihey may stand
For those tiiree kingdoms, sway'd by the meek hantl
Of blest James, England, Scotland, Ireland:
The Cloud that s we 11b beneath 'em may imply
Some envious mist east forth by heresy.
Which, through his happy reign and heaven's blcsl
will,
The sunbeams of the Gospel strike' through atiU ;
More to assure ii to succeeding men,
We have the crown of Britain's hope agen,''
Illostrious Charles our prince, which all will say
Adds the chief joy and honour to this day ;
And as three crowns, three fruits of brotherhood.
By which all love's worth may be understood.
To threefold honour make' the royal suit.
In the king, prince, and the king's substitute;
By th' eif;ht Beatitudes ye understand
The fulness t)f all blessings to this land,
More chiefly to this city, whose safe peace
Good angels guard, and good men's prayers in-
May all succeeding honour'd brothers be
With as much love brought home as thine bring*"
thee !
For all the proper adornments of art and work-
manship in so short a time, so gracefully setting
forth the body of so magniticent a Triumph, the
praise comes, as a Just due, to the exquisite de-
servings of master Garret Crismas," whose faithful
performances still take the upper hand of his pro-
I Miriii'] Old ed, ■' alrikei."
^ agin'} Sre note, p. IDS. — An alluiion to the return of
Charlea from Spun.
■ irifl*»] Old ed. '■ mikfi." - hri<ig] Old ed. " bring..-
• Critwoi] Sic natn, p. 200.
THE TRIUMPHS
OF
HEALTH AND PROSPERITY.
m
The Ttivmpfu qf Health and Protptrity, A noble Solemnity
performed through the City, at the sole Cost and Charges qfthe
Honorable Fraternity of Drapers, at the Inauguration of their
most Worthy Brother, the Right Honorable, Cuthbert Hacket,
Lord Major <if the Famous City rf London, By Tho, Middleton
Gent, Imprinted at Ijondon by Nicholas Okes, dwelling in Foster
lane, mdcxxvi. 4to.
TWoij-tcki
THE TRIUMPHS
HEALTH AND PROSPERITY.
If you should search all chronicles, histories, re-
cords, in wlmt language or letter soever; if the
inquisitive man should vraste the dear treasure ot'
his time and eyesight, he shall conclude his life
only with this certainty, that there is no subject
upon earth received iuto the place of his govern-
ment with the like state and magnificence as is
his Majesty's great substitute into his hononrahlt-
charge, the city of London, bearing the inscription
of the Chamber Royal ; which, that it may now
appear to the world no less illustrated with bro-
therly affection than former triumphal times have
been partakers of, this takes delight to present
itself.
And first to enter the worthy love of his honour-
able Society for his lordship's return from West-
minster, having received some service by water, by
the triumphant Chariot of Honour, the first that
attends his lordship's most wished arrival bears the
title of the Beautiful Hill or Frngrant Garden, with
flowery banks, near 'to which lambs and sheep arc
a-grazing. This platform, so cast into a hill, is
adorned and garnished with all variety of odori-
CmtA *m MM J - m^ U^ik »"
A ctoad of grief kidi ibewer'd ■pan tbe &ce
or ihi* Md ciij. ■■¥] saorp'd (be pUee
Of joT mhI cbeerralDeM, wearing tbe form
Of a long black rclipie in a rough storm:
With »howcri* of tear* ihU garden xas o'erflowu.
Till mercy was, like the blest rainbow, sbewn :
* AautTt\ Old eJ. " flowcn."
FROSFEBITT. 325
Behold nhat figure non tlie city bears !
Like gems unvalued,'' her best joys she nears,
Glad as a faithful handmaid to obey.
And wait upon the honour of this day,
Fix'd in the king's great substitute: delight,
Triumph, and pomp, had almost lost their right :
The garden springs again ; the violet-beds.
The lofty flowers, bear up their fragrant heads ;
Fruit overlade their trees, bams crack with store;
And yet how much the heavens wept before.
Threatening a second mourning .' Who so dull,
But must acknowledge mercy was at full
In these two mighty blessings ? what's requir'd 7
That which in conscience ought to be desir'd;
Care and uprightness in the magistrate's place,
And in all men obedience, truth, and grace.
Afler this, awaits his lordship's approach a mas-
terpiece of triumph, called the Sanctuary of Pro-
sperity; on the top arch of which hangs the Golden
Fleece ; which raises the worthy memory of tliat
most famous and renowned brother of this Com-
pany, Sir Francis Drake, who in two years and ten
months did encompass the whole world, deserving
an eminent remembrance in this Sanctuary, who
never returned to his country without the golden
fleece of honour and victory i the four fair Corinth-
s imply the four principal vir-
. Wisdoi
especial upholders of kingdor
, Fortitude, Tempera
■, the
able
The speech in the Sanctvwnj upon the Fleece.
If Jason, with the noble hopes of Greece,
Who did from Colchis fetch the golden fleece,
* tmuaiHtd] i.e. invaluBble. Old ed. " vnTaleed."
3S6
THE TBIVUFHS Of
Deserve a story of immorial fame,
That both tbe Asiu celebrate his name ;
What honour, celebration, and r
In virtue's right, ought justly to be s!
To the fair memory of Sir Francis Drake,
England's true Jason, wtio did boldly make
So many rare adventures, nhich were held
For worth unmatch'd, danger unparallel'd ;
Never returning to his country's eye
Without the golden fleece of victory!
The world's a sea, and every magistrate
Takes a year's voyage when he takes this state ;
Nor on these seas are there less dangers found
Than those on which the bold adventurer's bound ;
For rocks, gulfs, quicksands, here is malice, spite.
Envy, detraction of all noble right ;
Vessels of honour those do threaten more
Than any ruin between sea and shore.
Sail, then, by the compass of a virtuous name,
And, spite of spites, ihou bring'st the fleece of fame.
Passing from this, and more to encourage the
noble endeavours of the magistrate, his lordship
and the worthy Company are" gracefully conducted
towards [he Chariot of Honour. On the most emi-
nent seat thereof is Government illustrated, it being
the proper virtue by which we raise the noble me-
mory of Sir Henry Fitz-Alwin, who held the seat
of magistracy in this city twenty-four years to-
gether, a most renowned brother of this Company :
in like manner, the worth; Sir John Norman, [that]
first rowed in barge to Westminster with silver
oars, under the person of Munificence : Sir Siitian
Eyre, that biiitt Leadenhall, a granary for the poor,
under the type of Piety ; et sic de celerii : this
■ ore] Old ed. •'
I
I
HEALTH AKD rROBPEKITY.
Chariot drawn by two golden -pelleted lions, being
the proper supponera of the Company's
those two that have their seats upon the liona pre-
senting Power and Honour, the one in a little
streamer or banneret bearing the arms of the pre-
sent lord mayor, the other of the late, the truly
generous and worthy Sir Allen Cotton, Knight, a
bounteous and a noble housekeeper, one that hath
spent the year of his magistracy to the great honour
of the city, and by the sweetness of his disposition,
and the uprighineaa of his justice and government,
halh raised up a fair lasting memory to himself and
his posterity for ever ; at whose happy inaugurs-
tion, though triumph was not then in season —
Death's pageants* being only advanced upon the
shoulders of men — his noble deservings were not
thereby any way eclipsed:
Ett nirtut tibi marmor, el integritaU Iriumphal.
The speech of Government.
With just propriety does this city stand,
As fix'd by fate, i' the middle of the land ;
It has, as in the body, the heart's place.
Fit for her works of piety and grace ;
The head her sovereign, unto whom she sends
All duties that just service comprehends ;
The eyes may be compar'd, at wisdom's rale,
To the illustrious councillors of state,
Set in that orb of royalty, to give light
To noble actions, stars of truth and right ;
The lips the reverend clergy, judges, all
That pronounce laws divine or temporal ;
The arms to the defensive part of men :
So I descend unto the heart agen,"
TBS tlUCMPHB or
V you are j witness the love
cost and ttiumph, all which
In this most grave solemnity ; and in lliia
The city's general love abstracted is :
And as the heart, in its meridian seat,
Is etyVA the fountain oC the body's heat.
The first thing receives life, the last that dies.
Those properties experience well applies
To this most loyal city, ihai hath been
In former ages, as in these limes, seen
The fountain of alfeccion, duty, zeal,
And taught all cities through the commonweal;
The first that receives quickening life and spirit
From the king's grace, which still she strives t'
And, like the heart, will be the last that dies
In any duty toward good supplies.
What can express alfection's nobler fruit.
Both to the king, and you his substitute?
At the close of this speech, this Chariot of Ho-
nour and Sanctuary of Prosperity, iviih all her
graceful concomitants, and the two other parts of
Triumph, take leave of his lordship for that time,
and rest from service till the great feast at Guild-
hall be ended; after which the whole fabric of the
Triumph attends upon his honour both towards
Sl Paul's and homeward, his lor^iship accompanied
with the grave and honourable senators of the city,
amongst whom the two worthy shrieves, his lord-
ship's grave assistants for the year, the worshipful
and generous master Richard Fen and master Ed-
ward Brumfietd, ought not to pass of my respect
unremembered, whose bounty and nobleness for
HEALTH AND PROSPERITT. 329
Ihe year will no doubt give the best expression to
their onn worthJneaa. Between the Cross and the
; of Wood Street, that part of Triumph
being planted — being the Fragrant Garden of Eng-
land with the Rainbow — to which ihe concluding
speech hath chiefly reference, there lakes its fare-
well of his lordship, accompanied with the Fountain
of Virtue, being the fourth part of the Triumph.
I
The last speech.
Mercy's fair object, the celestial bow,
As in the morning it began to shew.
It closes up this great triumphal day,
And hy example shews the year the way,
Which if power worthily and rightly spend,
It must with mercy both begin and end.
It is a year that crowns the life of man,
Brings him to peace with honour, and what can
Be more desir'd? 'tis virtue's harvest-lime,
When gravity and judgment's in their prime :
To speak more happily, 'tis a time given
To treasure up good actions fit for heaven.
To a brotherhood of honour thou art fixt,
That has stood long fair in just virtue's eye;
For within twelve years' space thou art the sixt
That has been lord mayor of this Company.
This is no usual grace : being now the last,
Close the work nobly up, that what is past,
And known to be good in the former five,
May in thy present care be kept alive :
Then is thy brotherhood for their love and cost
Requited amply, but thy own soul most.
Health and a happy pence fdl all thy days !
When thy year end», may then begin thy praise !
I
.13(1 IIIE TBlCMniS OF HEALTH AKD PROSPERITT,
For the fabric or structure of the whole Triumph,
in so short a time bo gracefully perrormed, the com-
mendation of that the industry of nwster Garret
Crisinas'' may justly challenae ; s man not only ex~
celleni in his art, but faithful in his under talc inga,
" Cdmoi] S« nalc, p. i&O.
THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON
PARAPHRASED.
Ttu Wuiami of S^emm Paraphrastd. IVrilleH by fl
MitUMiHi. A jQ9t nrgil ejmi. PrinUd at Limdan by Valt
Sett, dtnlting an jtdling Ai
To the Right UonmtrabUandmy very good Lord, Bohert
Devereux, Earl of Etaex and Ewe, Vacounl of
Hereford, Lord Ferrers of Charlley, Borirchitr, and
Louvaine, Master of Her Majaty'a Horte and
Ordjumce, Knight of the Honojirabte Order of the
Garter, and one of Her Majesty'$ Moit Sonour-
able Privff Coujteil.
TuE summer's harvest, right honourable, ia long
since reaped, and now it is soning-time again:
behold, i have scattered a few seeds upon the
young ground of unskilfulness ; if it bear fruit, my
labour is well bestowed ; but if it be barren, I shall
have less joy to set more. The husbandman ob-
serves the courses of the moon, I the forces of
your favour ; he desireth sunshine, I cheerful
countenance, which once obiainecl, my harvest of
joy will soon be ripened. My seeds as yet lodge
in the bosom of the earth, like infants upon the lap
of a favourite, wanting the budding spring-time of
their growth, not knowing the east of their glory,
the west of their quietness, the south of their sum-
mer, the north of their winter ; but if the beams of
your aspects lighten the small moiety of a smaller
implanting, I shall have an every-day harvest, a
fruition of content, a branch of felicity.
Your Honour's addicted in all obDervance,
Thomas Middletok.
TO THE GENTLEMEN-READERS.
Gentlsmes, — I give you the aurveytnce of my
new-bought ground, and will only «tand unto your
verdicts. I fear mi; ihat tlie acres of my field para
.the ankers of my seed; if wanting seed, then I
hope it will not be too much seeded. This is my bare
excuse ; but, trust me, had my wit been gufiicient
to maintain the freedom of my will, then boih should
have been answerable to your wishes ; yet, neverthe-
less, think of ii as a wilting, though not a fulfilhng
moiety. But what mean I ? While I thus argue,
MomuB and Zoilus, those two ravens, clevoiir my
seed, because I lack a scarecrow ; indeed, so 1 may
have less than I have, when such foul-gutted ravens
awallow up my portion : if you gape for stuffing,
hie you to dead carrion carcasses, and make them
your ordinaries. I beseech you, gentlemen, let me
have your aid ; and as you have seen the first prac-
tice of my husbandry in sowing, so let me have your
helping hands unto my reaping.
Yours, devoted in friendship,
Thomas Middletok.
I
THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON
Chac. I.
Wisdom, elixir of the purest life.
Hath taught her lesson to judicial views,
To (hose that judge a cause und end a strife.
Which sit' in judgment's seat and justice usi
A lesson worthy ofdivinest eare.
Quintessence of a true divinest fear :
Unwilling that exordium should retain
Her life-infusing speech, dotli thus begin:
Vou, quoth she, that give remedy or pain.
Love justice, for injustice is a sin;
Give unto God hie due, his reverend style,
And rather use simplicity than guile.
For him that guides the radiant eye of day, 2
Sitting in his star-chamber of the sky.
The horizons and heraiaplieres obey,
And winds, the fillers of vacuity ;
Much less should man tempt God, when all obey.
But rather be a guide, and lead the nay.
For tempting argues but a sin's allempt.
Temptation is to sin associate ;
So doing, thou from God art clean exempt.
Whose love is never plac'd in his love's hate :
He will be found not of a templing mind,
But found of those which he doth faithful find.
rat WIIDOM OF SOLOMON PAKAPHKASBO.
Temptation rather separRtes from God, 3
Converting goodnesa from the ihing it was.
Heaping the indignation of liis rod
To bruiac our bodies like a brittle glans ;
For wicked thoughts have still a wicked end.
In making God our foe, nluch n«s our friend.
They muster up revenge, encamp our hate,
Undoin); what before they tneant to do,
■Stirring up anger and unlucky fate,
Making the earth their friend, the heaven their
nanifcEt his power,
n like foes devour.
O foolish men, to war against your bliss! 4
O hateful hearts, where wisdom never reign'dl
O wicked thoughts, which ever thought amiss I
What have you reap'd? what pleasure have you 1
A fruit in show, a pleasure to decay.
This have you got by keeping folly's way.
For wisdom's harvest is with folly nipt.
And with the winter of your vice's frost.
Her fruit all scatier'd, her implanting ript.
Her name decayed, her fruition lost:
Nor can she prosper in a plot of vice.
Gaining no Bummer's warmth, but winter's ice.
Thou barren earth, where virtues never bud; i
The fruitless womb, where never fruits abide;
And thou dry-wither'd sap, which bears no good
But the dishonour of thy proud heart's pride :
A seat of all deceit, — deceit deceiv'd,
Thy hlias a woe, thy woe of bliss bereav'd!
THE WISDOM OF SOLOUON PARAPHRASED, 339
This place of night haih left no place for day,
Here never shines the sun of discipline,
But mischief clad in sable night's array,
Thought's apparition — evil angel's sign;
These reign enhous^d with their mother night,
To cloud the day of clearest wisdom's light.
O you that practise to be chief in sin, 0
Love's hate, hate's friend, friend's foe, foe's fol-
lower,
What do you gain ? what merit do you win.
To be blaspheming vice's practiser?
Your gain is wisdom's everlasting hate,
Your merit grief, your grief your life's debate.
Thou canst not hide thy thought — God made thy
thought,
Let this thy caveat be for thinking ill ;
Thou know'st that Christ tby living freedom bought.
To live on earth according to his will:
God being thy creator, Christ ihy hiias.
Why dost thou err ? why dost thou do amiss ?
He is both judge and witness of thy deeds, 7
He knows the volume which thy heart conla'
Christ skips thy faults, only thy virtue reads.
Redeeming thee from nil thy vice's pains ;
O happy crown of mortal man's content.
Sent for our joy, our joy in being sent !
Then sham'st thou not to err, to sin, to stray.
To come to composition with thy vice.
With new-purg'd feet lo tread the oldest way.
Leading new sense onto thy old device f
Thy shame might flow in thy sin-flowing face.
Rather than ebb to make an ebb of grace.
340 THB wiiimx or mvomoii rABArn>jisci>.
For he which rules the orb ofhcaven aixl earlh, 8
And the ineqiul course of every aur.
Did knon man'i ihoughis and secrets at his birth.
Whether inclin'd to peace or discord's jar :
He knows what tnati will be ere he be man.
And all his deeds in his life's living span.
TheD 'til impossible that eanh cao hide
Unrighteous actions from a righteous God,
For he can see their feet in ain that slide.
And those that lodge in right eousness' abode ;
He will extend his mercy on the good,
His wrath on those in whom no virtues bud.
Many there be, that, after trespass done.
Will seek a covert for to hide their shame.
And range about the earth, thinking to shun
God's heavy wraih and meritorious'' blame ;
They, thinking to fly sin, run into sin,
And think to end when they do new begin.
God made the eanh, the earth denies their suit.
Nor can they harbour in the centre's womb ;
God knows their thoughts, aUhougb their tongues
be muie,
Aodhears the sounds from forth their bodies' tomb :
Sounds 7 ah ! no sounds, but roan himself he hears,
Too true a voice of man's most falsest feara.
O see destruction hovering o'er thy head.
Mantling herself in wickedness' array !
Hoping to make thy body as her bed,
■fhy vice her nutriment, thy soul her prey :
Thou faast forsaken him that was thy guide,
And see what follows id assuage thy pride !
THE niBDOH OF SOLOMON FARAFHBA5B0. 341
Thy roaring vice's noise hath cloy'd his ears,
Like foamingwaveslheyhaTeo'erwhelm'd thy joy;
Thy murmuring,'' which thy whole body bears.
Hath bred thy wail, thy wail thy life's annoy :
Unhappy thoughts, to make a soul's decay,
Unhappy soul, in suffering thoughts to sway !
Then sith'' the height of man's felicity 1 1
Is pjung'd within the puddle of misdeeds,
And wades amongst discredit's infamy.
Blasting the merit of his virtues' seeds ;
Beware of murmuring, — the chiefest ill,
From whence all sin, all vice, all pains distil.
O heavy doom proceeding from a tongue,
Heavy-light tongue — tongue to thy own decay.
In virtue weak, in wickedness coo strong,
To mischief prone, from goodness gone astray ;
Hammer to forge misdeeds, to temper lies,
Selling ihy life to death, thy soul to cries!
Must death needs pay the ransom of thy sin 12
With the dead carcass of descending spirit?
Wilt thou offeree be snared in his gin.
And place thy error in destruction's merit?
Life, seek not for thy death ; death eomes unsought,
Buying ihe life which not long since was bought.
Death and destruction never need" a call,
They are attendants on life's pilgrimage.
And life to them is as their playing ball.
Grounded upon destruction's anchorage ;
Seek not for that which unsought will betide,
Ne'er wants destruction a provoking guide.
' .ith] i,
uriBj] Old ed. '
r 8OLOU0H FAKAPHSASKD.
Will you needs act your ovm destmctionf 13
Will you needs harbour your own overthrow? _
Or will you cause your owo eTcrsion,
Beginning nith despair, ending with woeT
Then dye your hearts in tyranny's array, '
To make acquittance of d
ipay.
What do you meditate but on your death?
What do you practise but your living fall?
Who of you all have any virtue's breath,
Itut ready armed at a mischiers call ?
God is not pleased at your vices' savour,
But you best pleased when you lose his favour.
t death to be your conqueror,
o conquer over death and hell ;
He made n
But you
Nor you to be destructioc
Enhoused there where majesty should dwell :
God made man to obey at his behest,
And man to be obey'd of every beast.
He made not death to be our labour's hire.
But we ourselves made death through our t
Here never 'was the kingdom of hell-fire.
Before the brand was kindled in roan's heart:
Now man deGcth God, all creatures man,
Vice llourisheth, and virtue lieth wan.
O fruitiul tree, whose root is always green.
Whose blossoms ever bud, whose fruits increut, _
Whose top celestial virtue's seat hath been,
Defended by the sovereignty of peace!
This tree is righteousness ; O happy tree.
Immortalised by thine own decree!
W
THE WISDOM OF SO LOU OH
O hateful plant, whose root ia always dry,
Whose blossoms never bud, whose fruits decrease,
On whom sits the infernal deity,
To take possession of so foul a lease 1
This plant is vice; O too unhappy plant,
Ever to die, and never fill death's want !
Accursed in thy growth, dead in thy root, 16
Canker'd with sin, shaken with every wind.
Whose top doth nothing differ from the foot,
Mischief the sap, and wickedness the rind ;
So (he ungodly, like this wither'd tree,
Is slack in doing good, in ill too free.
Like thi» their wicked growth, too fast, too slow ;
Too fast in sloth, too slow in virtue's haste;
They think their vice a friend when 'lis a foe,
Tn good, in wic)(edness, too slow, too fast:
And as this tree decays, so do they all,
Each one copartner of the other's fall.
Cnxr. II.
Indeed they do presage what will betide, 1
With the misgiving verdict of misdeeds;
They know a fall will follow a^er pride.
And in so foul a heart grow'' many weeds :
Our life is short, quoth they ; no, 'tis too long,
Lengthen'd with evil thoughts and evil tongue.
A life must needs be short to them thnt dies.
For life once dead in sin doth weakly live ;
These die in sin, and mask in death's disguise.
And never think thai death new life can give;
They say, life dead can never live again :
O thoughts, O words, O deeds, fond,' foolish, vain !
' g'lM'^ Old ed. " growei." ' /end] i. e. silly, idle.
344 TBE wuDOM or mlomok fabjfi»a)».
Villi' lire, to harbour where iiicb dcatb abodes, 2
Abodes none tbui are ihoaght*, ibougbu worse
Words haiTas ill as deedn, deeda sorroir** ode«.
Odea ill enchanters of too ill records !
Thought!, words, and deeds, conjoined io one soDg
May cause an echo rrom destruction's tongue.
Quoth they, 'tis chance nbetber we live or die.
Born or abortiTC, be or never be;
We worship Forttine, she's our deity ;
If she denies, no vital breath hare we ;
Here are we placed in this orb of death.
This breath once gone, we never look for breath. '
Between both life and death, both hope and fear, 3
Between our joy and grief, bliss and despair,
We here possess [he fruit of what is here.
Born ever for to die, and die death's heir :
Our heritage is death anoex'd to life.
Our portion death, our death on endless strife.
What is our life, but our life's tragedy,
Extinguish'd in a momentary time?
And life to murder life is cruelty,
Unripely withering in a flowery prime ;
An ' urn of ashes pleasing but the shows.
Once dry, the toiling spirit wandering goes-
Like as the traces of appearing clouds
Give* way when Titan re-salutes the sea.
With new-chang'd flames gilding the ocean's flo<
Kissing the cabinet where Thetis lay ;
So fares our life, when death doih give the woo^
Our life is led by death, a captive bound.
■ »'iW] See note, p. 139. 'A,,] Old fd. " And.'"
TBZ VISDOU
FABAFURASED, 345
When Sol beBirides his golden mounlain's top.
Lightening heaven's tapers with his living fire,
All gloomy powers have their diurnal stop,
And never gain' the darkness they desire ;
So perisheth our name when we are dead,
Ourselves ne'er call'd to mind, our deeds ne'er read.
What is the lime we have ? what be our days? j
Xo time, but sliadoiv of what time should be.
Days in the place of hours, which never stays.
Beguiling sight of that which sight should see:
As soon as they begin, ihey have their fine ;
Ne'er wax, still wane^ ne'er stay, but still decline.
Life may be call'd the shadow of effect,
Because the cloud of death dotli shadow it ;
Nor«an our life approaching death reject.
They both in one for our election sit ;
Death follows life in every degree.
But life to follow death you never see.
Come we, whose old decrepit age doth halt, 6
Like limping winter, in our winter, sia ;
Faulty ne iinow we are — tush, what's a fault?
A shadow'd vision of destruction's gin ;
Our life begun n-iih vice, so let it end.
It is a servile labour to amend.
Wejoy'd in sin, and let our joys renew;
We joy'd in vice, and let our joys remain ;
To present pleasures future hopes ensue.
And joy once lost, let us fetch back again :
Although our age can lend no youthful pace,
Yet let our minds follow our youthful race.
3-16 THE WUDOU OF BOLOUON PARAPKKASBD.
What tlioiigh old age Hes heavy on our back,
Analoniy of an oge-crookcd clime.
Let mini] pETform that which our bodies lack,
And change old age into « youthful time:
Tvro heavy ihingB are more than one can bear ; J
Black may the garments be, the body dear.
Decaying thing* be needful of repair-
Trees eaten out with years must needs decline ;
Nature in time with foul doth cloud her fair,
Begirting youthful days with age's twine :
We live; and while we live, come let us joy j
To think of after-life, 'tis but a toy.
We know God made us in a living form, S
But we'll unmake, and make ourselves again;
Unmake that which is made, like winier'i storm.
Make unmade tilings to aggravate our pain :
God was our maker, and he made us good.
But our descent springs from another blood.
He made uh for to live, we mean to die ;
He made the heaven our seat, we make Oie
earth ;
Each fashion makes a contrariety,
God truest God, man falsest from his binh :
Quoth they, this earth shall be our chiefest heaven,
Our sin the anchor, and our vice the haven.
Let heaven in earth, and earth in heaven consist, 9
This earth is heaven, this heaven is earthly
heaven ;
Repugnant earth repugnant heaven resist.
We joy in earth, of other joys bereaven :
This is the paradise of our delight;
Here let us live, and die in heaven's spile.
347
Here let the monuments of wanton sports
Be seated in a wantonness' disguise ;
Clos'd in the circuit of venereal forts,
To feed the long-starv'd sight of amour's eyes ;
Be this the chronicle of our content,
How we did sport on earth, still sport was spent.
But in the glory of the brightest day, 10
Heaven's smoothest brow sometime is furrowed.
And clouds usurp the clime in dicn array.
Darkening the light lyhich heaven had borrowed ;
So in this earthly heaven we daily see
Thai grief is placed where delight should be.
Here live^ the righteous, bane unto their lives,
O, sound from forth the hollow cave of woe !
Here live'' age-erook^d fathers, widow'd wives-
Poor, and yet rich in fortune's overthrow :
Let them not live; let us increase their want.
Make barren their desire, augment their scaut.
Our law is correspondent to our doom, 11
Our law to doom, is dooming law's offence;
Each one agreelh in the other's room,
To punish that which strives and wants de-
This, cedar-like, doth make the shrub to bend,
When shrubs do' waste their force but to contend.
The weakest power is subject to obey ;
The mushrooms humbly kiss the cedar's foot.
The cedar flourishes when they decay,
Because her strength is grounded on a root; •
We are the cedars, they the mushrooms be,
Unabled shrubs unto an abled tree.
► /i»] Old ed. "
' do} Old ed. " dolb."
348 TBI HISDOH OF SOLOMOK
Then »itli" the weaker gives ihe stronger pUce, 12
Tlie youn^ the elder, and the foot (he lop.
The low ihe high, the hidden powera the face.
All beasts the lion, every spring hja atop ;
Let those which practise contrariety
Be join'd to us with inequality.
They say ihat wc offend, we isy they do ;
Their blame is laid on ui, our blame on tbem ;
They strike, and we retort the slruckeo blow ;
So in each garment there's a difTering bem:
We end with contraries, as they begun.
Unequal sharing of wbal either won.
In thie long conflict between tongue and tongue, 13
Tongue new beginning what one tongue did
Made this cold battle hot in eiibcr's wrong.
And kept no pausing limiis to tontend;
One tongue was echo to the other's sound,
Which breathed accents between niouih and ground.
He which hath virtue's arms upon his shield, 14
Draws his descent from an eternal king :
He knows discretion can make folly yield,
Life conquer death, and vice a captive bring;
The other, tuior'd by his mother sin.
Respects not deeds nor words, but hopes to wio.
The Brst, first essence of immortal life, 15
Reproves the heart of thought, the eye of sight,
The ear of hearing ill, the mind of strife.
The mouth of speech, the body of despite ;
Heart thinks, eyes see, ears liear." minds meditate,
Moutb utters both the soul and body's hate.
THE WISDOU OF SOLOMON PARAPHRASED. S40
But nature, difiering in each nature's kind,
Makes differing hearts, each heart a differing
thought ;
Some hatli she made to see, some folly-blind.
Some famous, some obscure, some good, some
So these, which differ" in each nature's reason,
Had nature's time when time was out of season.
Quoth they, he doth reprove our heart of thinking.
Our eyes of sight, our ears of hearing ill, 16
Our minds, our hearts, in meditation linking,
Our mouths in speaking of our body's will ;
Because heart, sight, and mind do disagree,
He'd make heart, sight, and mind of their decree.
He says, our heart is blinded with our eyes,
Oitr eyes are blinded with our blinded heart.
Our bodies on both parts defiled lies.
Our mouths the trumpets of our vices' smart;
Quoih he, God is my father, I his son,
His ways I take, your wicked ways 1 shun.
As meditated wrongs are deeper plac'd 17
Within the deep core" of a wronged mind.
So meditated words areP never past
Before their sounds a settled harbour find ;
The wicked, answering to the latter words.
Begin*! to speak as much as speech affords.
One tongue must answer, other tongues reply.
Beginning boasts require an ending fall;
Words lively spoke do sometimes wordless die.
If not, live echoes unto speeches call :
Let not the shadow smother up ihc deed.
The outward leaf differs from inward seed.
350 THE W15D0H OF SOLOHON PASAFHHASED.
The shape and show of substance and effect 18
Do" shape the substance in the shadow's hue,
And shadow put in substance will neglect
The wonted shadow of not being true:
Let substance follow substance, show a show.
And let not substance for the shadow go.
He that could give such admonition,
Such vaunting words, such words confirming
As if his tongue had mounted to ambition,
Or climb'd the turrets which vain-glory haunts.
Now let his father, if he be his son.
Undo the knot which bis proud boasts have spun.
We are his cnemieE, his chain our hands, 19
Our words his fetters, and our heart his cave,
Our stern einbracements are his servile hands ;
Where is the helper now which he should have'
In prison like himself, not to be found.
He wanieth help himself to be unbound.
Then sithP thy father bears it patiently.
To Buffer torments, grief, rebuke, and blame,
'Tis needful thou should'st bear equality,
To see if meekness harbour in thy name;
Help, father, for thy son in prison lies!
Help, son, or else ihy helpless father dies !
Thus is the righteous God and righteous man SO
Drown'd in oblivion with this vice's reign;
God wanteth power (say they) of what we can.
The other would perform that which is vain;
Both faulty in one fault, and both alike
Must have the stroke which our law's judgmmii
" Do] Old ed. " Doih." ' liih] i. e. since.
I
I
I
THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON PAHAFHRASEIJ. 351
He calls himself a son from heaven's descent ;
What can earth's force avail "gainst heaven's
defence ?
His life by immortality is lent ;
Then how can punishment his vtrath incense?
Though death herself in hia arraignment deck,
He hath bis life's preserver at a beck.
As doth the basilisk with poison'd sight 21
Blind every function of a mortal eye,
Disarm the body's powers of vital might,
Rob heart of thought, make living life to die,
So do° the wicked with their vice's look
Infect the spring of clearest virtue's brook.
This basilisk, mortality's chief foe.
And to the heart's long-knitted artery.
Doth sometime perish st her shadow's show,
Poisoning herself with her own poison'd eye :
Needs must the sting fall out with over-harming,
Needs must the tongue burn out in over-warming.
So fares it with the practisers of vice, 22
Laden with many venomous adders' stings.
Sometimes are blinded with their own device,
Andlune" that song which their destruction sings;
Their mischief blindeth their mischievous eyes.
Like basilisks, which in their shadow dies.
They go, and yet they cannot see their feet.
Like blinded pilgrims in an unknown way.
Blind in perceiving things which be most meet.
But need nor sight nor guide to go astray :
Tell them of good, they cannot understand ;
But tell them of a mischief, that's at hand.
° rfo] Old eJ. " doth." » la«e] Old ed. " lunft."
3SZ THE iriBtWU OF
PAKAFKRASED.
Tlie basilisk was made lo blind the sight,
Tlie adtler for to sting, the worm to creep.
The viper (o devour, die dog lo bile.
The nightingale to waky when others sleep;
Only man difiers from his Maker's will.
Undoing what is good, aad doing ill.
A godlike face he had, a heavenly hue.
Without corruption, image without sp
But now is metamorphosed anew.
Full of corruption, image full of biota ;
Blotted by him that is tlic plot" of evil.
Undone, corrupted, vanquish'd by the devil.
BpoU;
But every cloud cannot hide Phorbus* face,
Not shut the casement of his living flame;
Nor is there every soul which wanteth grace,
Nor every heart seduc'd with mischief's namer]
Life cannot live without corruption,
World cannot be without destruction.
Nor is the body all corrupt, or world
Bent wholly unto wickedness' assault;
The adder is not always seen uncutl'd.
Nor every soul found guilty in one fault ;
Some good, some bad ; but those whom virtues guu
Heaven is their haven, comfort their reward.
Thrice-happy habitation of delight,
Thrice-liappy step of immortality.
Thrice-happy souls to gain such heavenly sight.
Springing from heaven's perpetuity !
O peaceful place ! but O thrice- peaceful souls.
Whom neither threats nor strife nor wars control^
* jiJof] i. e. scheme, form, — piitern.
THE WISDOU OF SOUtUOS PARArHRABES. 353
They are not like the wicked, for they live ;
Nor they like lo ilic rigliceous, for they die;
Each of their lives a differing nature give :
One thinks that life ends with mortality,
And that the righteous never live again,
But die OB subjects to a grievous pain.
What lahouring soul refuseth for to sweat.
Knowing his hire, his payment, his reward,
To suffer winter's cold and Eummer'a heat.
Assured of his labour's due regard ?
The bee with Hummer's toil will lade her hive,
In winter's frosi to keep herself alive.
And what divinest spirit would not toil.
And suffer many torments, many pains.
This world's destruction, heavy labour's foil,
When heaven is their hire, heaven's joy their
gains?
Who would not sufTer torments for to die,
When death's reward is immortality ?
Pain is the entrance to eternal joy ; 5
Death endeib life, and death beginneth life,
Beginneth happy, cndeth in annoy.
Begins immortal peace, ends mortal strife ;
Then, seeing death and pains bring joy and heaven,
What need we fear death's pain, when life is given ?
Say sickness, or infirmity's disease
(As many harms hang over mortal heads).
Should be his world's reward ; yet heaven hath ease,
A salve to cure, and quiet resting beds:
God makelh in earth's world lament our pleasure.
That in heaven's world delight might be our
treasure.
354 TUB WISDOM or SOLOUOK PARAFHkAVl
Fair may ihe shadow W, ihe substance foul ;
After tlie trial followetli the irust ;
Tlie clearest skin may have tlic foulest soul ;
Tlie purest gold will sooner take the rusl;
The brook, though ne'ersoclear, may take some
The hart, though ne'er so strong, may take some
Woulilst thou be counted just? make thyself jm
Or purify ihy mire-bespolted heart ;
For God doth try thy actions ere he Irus
Thy faith, thy deeds, thy words, and what thou
art;
He will receive no mud for clearest springs.
Nor thy unrighteous words for righteous things.
Aa God is perfect God and perfect good, 7
So he accepieth none but perfect minds;
They ever prosper, flourish, live, and bud,
Like blessM plants, far from destruction's winds;
Still bud, ne'er fade, still flourish, ne'er decay;
Still rise, ne'er fall, still spring, ne'er fade away.
Who would not covet to be such a plant,
Who would not wish to stand in such a ground,
Sith" it doth neither fruit nor blessing want.
Nor aught which in this plant might not be found?
They are the righteous which enjoy this earth.
The figure of an ever-bearing birth.
The small is always subject to the great, S
The young to him which is of elder time.
The lowest place unto the highest seat.
And pale-fac'd Phffibe to bright Phccbus' clune ;
Vice is not governor of virtue's place,
Rat blushes for to see so bright a face.
" Sllh} i. e. Since.
THE WiaDOM OF 50L0U0N PABAFHEASED. 3SS
Virtue is chief, and virtue will be chief,
Chief good, and chief Astrsa, justice' mate,
Both for to punish and to yield relief.
And have dominion over every state.
To right the wrongs which wickedness hath done,
Delivering nations from life-lasting moan.
O you, whose causes plungeih in despair, 9
Sad'fac'd petitioners with grief's request !
What seek you? here's nor justice nor her heir,
Biii woe and sorrow, with deatii's dumb arrest ;
Turn up your woe-blind eyes unto the sky.
There sits the judge can yield you remedy.
Trust in his power, he ie the truest God,
True God, true judge, true justice, and true guide ;
All truth is placed in his truth's abode,
Alt virtues seated at his virtuous side ;
He will regard your suit, and ease your plaint,
And mollify your misery's constraint.
Then shall you see the judges of the earth 10
Summoned with the trumpet of his ire,
To give account and reckoning from their birth,
Where" worthy or unworthy of their hire:
The godly shall receive their labour's trial.
The wicked shall receive their joy's denial.
They which did sleep in sin, and not regarded
The poor man's fortune prostrate at their feet.
Even as they dealt, so shall they be rewarded.
When they their toiled souls' destruction meet j
From judges they petitioners shall be.
Yet want the sight which they do sue to see.
Why tct I Bippukcsi vof^ noftv ryt9f
Wbidi caTet* to be dr«ach'd in misery,
' *' ') nuods in follj'a gvitf
■ perpetvtty !
£(■*■ hbovr, felly's bone, and rice's merit,
e in ooe nake a [hrice-eunM •phrit.
TbcK lime it
Vain hope moit needs caoaitt in whu i* Tain ;
All foolish labours flowP from folly's tMra;
UnproGtabk works proceed from pain,
) And pain ill laboor's dnest gneidoo besn ;
■ Tliree* vanities in one, and one in tbn^
■Wake three paios one, and one onecrtaiaty.
A K-jcked king makes a more wicked land;
Heads once infected soon corrupt' the feet;,!
If the tree. falls, the branches cannot stand,
Nor children, be their parents indiscreet [
The man infects the wife, the wife the child.
Like birds which in one nest be all defil'd.
The field which never was ordain'd (o hear
Is happier fur than a still-tilled ground ;
This sleeps with quietness in every year,
The other curs'd if any tares be found ;
The barren happier than she that bears,
This brings forth joy, the other lares and tears.
THE WIBDOU OF SOLOUON PABAPHBAGED. S57
The eunuch never lay in vice's bed, 14
The barren woman never brought forth sin ;
These two in heaven's happiness are led,
She fruit in soul, he fruit in faith doih win:
0 rate and happy man, for ever blest !
O rare and happy woman, heaven's guest 1
Who seeks to reap before the corn be ripe? 15
Who looks for harvest among winter's frost?
Or who in grief will follow pleasure's pipe ?
What mariner can sail upon the coast i
That which is done in time is done in season.
And things done out of time are' out of reason.
The glorious labour is in doing good,
In time's observance, and in nature's will,
Whose fruit is also glorious for our food.
If glory may consist in labour's skill.
Whose root is wisdom, which shall never wither,
But spring, and sprout, and love, and live together.
But every ground doth not bear blessed plants, 16
Nor every plant brings forth expected fruit ;
What this same ground may have, another wants ;
Nor are all causes onswer'd with one suit :
That tree whose root is sound, whose grounding
May firmly stand when others lie along.
View nature's beauty, mark her changing hue, .
She is not always foul, not always fair.
Chaste and unchaste she is, true and untrue.
And some spring* from her in a lustful air ;
And these adulterers be, whose seed shall perish ;
Never shall lust and wickedness long flourish.
re] Old «i
-in; ] Old ed. " ipriags."
in
Thm untf} many happineas u lent.
And long- lie par tea joy might tben b« rife :'
Home tiappy iftliey live, soine if they dte,
Hnppy in life, happy in tragedy.
ff]OIJ«i]. •Mlutfc"
' 'l/iJ i-
I, prtvalen
I
FAKAFBRASED. 359
Content is happiness because content ;
Bareness nnd barrenness nre' virtue's grace,
Bare because wealth to poverty is bent.
Barren in that it scorns ill-Fortune's place;
Tiie barren earth is barren of her tares,
The barren woman barren of her cares.
The soul of virtue is eternity, 3
All- suing essence of divineat rage;
And virtue's true eternal memory
Is barrenness, her soul's eternal gage;
O happy soul, that is engaged there.
And panns his life that barren badge to wear!
See how the multitude, with humble hearts.
Lies prostrate for to welcome her return !
See how they mourn and wail when she departs !
See how they make their tears her trophy's
As every one hath not one nature's mould, 3
So every one hath not one nature's mind ;
Some think that dross which others take for gold,
Each difference comeih from a differing kind ;
Some do despise what others do embrace,
Some praise the thing which others do disgrace.
The barren doth embrace their barrenness.
And hold it as a virtue-worthy meed ;
The other calls conception happiness,
And hold it as a virtue-worthy deed ;
The one is firmly grounded on a rock,
The other billows' game and tempests' mock.
■ on] Old ed. " U."
360 THE WISDOM OF (OLOUOK PAKAPHKASBD.
Someiimi? the nettle groweth witli ihe row ; 4
The nettle haili a sting, the rose a thorn ;
This stings the hand, the other pricks the nose,
Herming that scent which her sweet birth hnil
Weeds among herbs, herbs among needs are found,
Tares in the mantle of a corny ground.
The nettle's growth is fast, the rose's slow.
The weeds outgrow the herbs, the tares the cortt;
These ma^ be well compar'd to vice's show.
Which covets for to grow ere it be born:
As greatest danger doth pursue fast goingi
So greatest danger doth ensue fast growing.
The tallest cedar hath the greatest wind, S
The highest tree is subject unto falls ;
High-soaring eagles soon are strucken blind ;
The tongue must needs behoarse with many calls :
The wicked, thinking for to touch the sky,
Are blasted with the fire of heaven's eye-
So like ascending and descending air,
Both dusky vapours from two humorous clouds.
Lies wiiherM the glory of their fair;"
Unpleasant branches wreneh'd in folly's floods ;
Unprofitable fruits, like to a weed,
Made only to infect, and not to feed.
Made for to make a fast, and not a feast, fl
Made rather for infection than for meat.
Not worthy to be eaten of a hcast,
Thy taste so sour, thy poison is so great ;
Thou may'st be well compared to a tree.
Because thy branches are as ill as thee.
*/ai>] >. e. tairncM. beauty, Tlie word una formerly in com-
TUB WISDOU OF EOLOUOK PARAPHRASED. 3C1
Thou hast begot thine own confusion,
The witnesses afwliat thou dost begin,
Thy dooniers in thy life's conclusion.
Which nil], unask'd and ask'd, reveal thy sin :
Needs must the new-hatch'd birds bewray the nest.
When they are nursed in a step-dame's breast.
But righteousness is of another sex, 7
Her root is from an everlasting seed.
No neak, unable grounding doth connex
Her never-limited memorial's deed ;
She haih no branches for a tempest's prey,
No deeds but scorns to yield unto decay.
She hath no wither'd fruit, no show of store,
But perfect essence of a complete power ;
Say that she dies to world, she lives the more.
As who so righteous but doth wait death's hour ?
Who knows not death to be the way to rest?
And he that never dies is never blest.
Happy is he that lives, twice he that dies, H
Thrice happy he which neither liv'd nor died.
Which never saw the earth with mortal eyes,
Which never knew what miseries are tried:
Happy is life, twice happy is our death.
But three times thrice he which had never breath.
Some think* that pleasure is achiev'd by years.
Or by maintaining of a wretched life.
When, out, alas ! it heapeth tears on tears.
Grief upon grief, strife on beginning strife :
Pleasure is weak, if measured by length ;
The oldest ages have> the weaker strength.
* Mint] Old ed. ■' iliinJte»." ' Iiavf] Old ed. " hith,"
302 THE WISDOM OF SOLOHOK PABAPMB tSES.
Three turnings are conlain'J in mortal course, 9
Old, mean, and young j mean and old bring' age ;
The youth hath strength, tlie mean decaying force.
The old arc weak, yet strong in anger's rage :
Three turnings in one age, strong, weak, and weaker,
Yet age nor youth is youth's or age's breaker.
Some say'' that youth is quick in judging causes.
Some say' that age is witty, grave, and wise :
1 hold of age's side, with their applauses,
Whichjudgcs with their hearts, not with their eyes;
I say grave wisdom lies in grayest heads.
And undetil^d lives in age's beds,
God is both grave and old, yet young and new, 10
Grave because aged, aged because young;
I/ong youth may well be called age's hue,
And hath no differing sound upon the tonj
r Go<l old, because
I Young, foi
Some in their birth, some die* when they are
Some horn, and some abortive, yet alt di
Some in their youth, some in old age forlorn,
Some neither young nor old, but equally
The righteous, when he liveth with the sinner.
Doth hope for death, his better life's beginner.
The swine delights to wallow in the mire.
The giddy drunkard in excess of wine ;
He may corrupt the purest reason's gyre.
And she turn virtue into vice's sign :
Mischief is mire, and may infect thai spring
Which every flow and ebb of vice doth bring.
■ bring] OIJ ed. " brings." ' tat] Old cd. " ca)
' dit] Old ed. " did."
■e bom, m
THS WfaSOM 0¥ SOLOMON FARAPHRASED. 363
Fislies are oft deceived by the bait,
The bait deceiving fisb doth fish deceive;
So righteous are allur'd by sin's deceit,
And oft enticed into sinners' weave :
The rigliteoua be as fishes to their gin,
Beguil'd, deceiv'd, allured into sin.
The fisher hath a bait deceiving fish,
The fowler hath a net deceiving fowls ;
Both nislieth to obtain their snaring wish.
Observing time, like night-observing owls;
The iisher lays his bait, fowler his net.
He hopes for fish, the other birds to get.
This iisher is the wicked, vice his bait,
This fowler is the sinner, sin his net;
The simple righteous falls in their deceit.
And like a prey, a fish, a fowl beset:
A bait, a net, obscuring what is good,
Like fish and fowl took up for vice's food.
But baits nor nets, gins nor beguiling snares, 13
Vice nor the vicious sinner, nor the sin,
Can shut the righteous into prison's cares.
Or set deceiving baits to mew them in ;
They know their life's deliverer, heaven's God,
Can break their baits and snares with justice'
When vice abounds on earth, and earth in vice, 14
When virtue keeps her chamber in the sky.
To shun the mischief which her baits entice.
Her snares, her nets, her guiles, her company ;
As soon as mischief reigns upon the earth.
Heaven calls the righteous to a better birtli.
364 TUB WISDOM OF SOLOUOt) FABAFHBASED.
The blinded eyes can never see the way, la
The blinded heart can never see to see.
The blinded soul doih always go astray ;
All three want sight, in being blind all three :
Blind and yet see, they see and yet are blind,
The face hath eyes, but eyeless is the mind.
They see with outward sight God's heavenly
grace.
His grace, his love, his mercy on his saints ;
With outward-faced eye and eyed face,
Their outward body inward soul depaints :
Of heart's chief eye they chiefly are bereft.
And yet the shadow[a] of two eyes are left.
Some blinded be in face, and some in soul ; 16
The face's eyes are not incurable;
The other wanteth healing to be whole.
Or seems to some to be endurable ;
Look in a blinded eye, bright is the glass.
Though brightness banished from what it was.
So, quoth the righteous, are these blinded hearts ;
The outward glass is clear, the substance dark, I
Both seem as if one took the other's parts,
Yet both in one have not one hrightoess' spark
The outward eye is but destruction's reader.
Wanting the inward eye to be the leader.
Our body may be call'd a commonweal, 1
Our head the chief, for reason harbours there.
From thence comes heart's and soul's united ze^ :
All else inferiors be, which stand in fear :
This commonweal, rul'd by discretion's eye.
Lives likewise if she live, dies if she die.
THB WISDOM OF 50LOUON PARAFHICA9ED, 361
Tlien how can weal or wenlili, common or proper,
Long stand, long flow, long flourish, long remain.
When wail ia weal's, and alealth is wealth's chief
stopper.
When Might ia gone, which never comes again?
The wicked see'' the righteous lose their breath.
But koow not what reward they gain by death.
Though blind in sight, yet can they see to harm, 13
See to despise, see to deride and mock ;
But their revenge lies in God's mighty arm,
Scorning to choose them for his chosen flock :
He is the shepherd, godly are his sheep.
They wake in joy, these in destrucLion sleep.
The godly sleep in eyes, but wake in hearts; 19
The wicked sleep in hearts, but wake in eyes :
These ever wake, eyes arc no sleepy parts ;
These ever sleep, for sleep is heart's disguise :
Their waking eyes do see their heart's lament,
While heart securely sleeps in eyes' content,
If they awake, sleep's image doth molest them, 20
And beats into their waking memories ;
If they do sleep, joy waking doth detest them,
Yet beats into dieir sleeping arteries :
Sleeping or waking, they have fear on fear,
Waking or sleeping, they are ne'er the near.'
If waking) they remember what they are,
What sins they have committed in their waking;
If sleeping, they forget tormenting's fare,
How ready they have been in mischief's making :
When they awake, their wickedness betrays them ;
When they do sleep, des
«] Old Ed. '
The &ee, iMBvkig her hexrj e^cfids op
fnm tarik Ae rhwnhw of eterml si^^K,
See* TiraH boU pttrntft repIniA'd rap,
Asd boUlj Uaad* la God'a aad hemnn'a B^fati
She, opeMg the windom of her bieart.
See* how the wicked rest in their mreu.
Quoth the, Thote wham the curtani of decay 3
Haih trsgiotlly Mmmoaed to pjun.
Were once the clondi and ctonden of b j dij,
Depravers and depriverf of my gain.
The wicked hearing this descending sound,
Fear struck their Umbi to the pale-clothM ground.
Amazed at tbe freedom of her words,
Their tongue-tied accent* drore them to despair,
And made them cliange their minds to woe's records.
And say within themselves, ho, nhat we are I
We have had virtue ia derision's place.
And made a parable of her disgrace.
See where she sits enthronis'd in the sky!
See, sec her labour's crown upon her head !
See how the righteous live, which erst did die,
From death to life with virtue's loadstar led!
See those whom we derided, they are blest,
They heaven's, not hell's, we hell's, not heaven's
■ tfoHif] Old ed. " itHiidi."
rda. i
THE WISDOM OF 80LDUON
367
We thouglit the righteous had been fury's sod,
With inconsiJerate speech, unstayed way ;
We thought that death had his dishonour won,
And would have made his life destruction's prey :
But we were mad, ihey just ; we fools, they wise ;
We shame, they praise ; we loss, they have [he prize.
We thought them fools, when we ourselves were
fools ; 5
Wethoughtthenimad,whenweourBe)veBweretnad;
The heat which sprang from them, our folly cools ;
We find in us which we but thought they had:
We thought their end had been dishonour's pledge;
They but survey'd the place, we made the hedge.
We see how they are blest, how we arc curat ;
How they accepted are, and we refus'd ;
And how our bands are tied, their bands are burst ;
Our faults are hourly blam'd, their faults excua'd j
See how heavens gratulate their welcom'd sight,
Which come ■ to lake possession of their right !
But O too late we see our wickedness, 6
Too late we lie in a repentant tomb,
Too late we smooth old hairs with happiness,
Too late we seek to ease our bodies' doom !
Now falsehood hath advanc'd her forged banner,
Too late we seem to verify truth's manner.
The sun of righteousness, which should have shin'd.
And made our hearts the cabins of his cast,
Is now made cloudy night through vice's wind.
And lodgeth with his downfall in the west ;
Tliat summer's day, which should have been night's
Ian
made winter in her icy c
368 THE WISDOM OF SOLOUOK tSl
Too much our feet have gone, but never right ; '
Much labour we have took, but none in good ;
We wearied ourselves with our delight,
Endangering ourselves to please our mood ;
Our feet did labour much, 'iwas for our pleasure ;
We ivearied ourselves, 'twas for our leisure.
In sin's perfeciio
To suffer perils ■
For the advan
Through many dangerous ways our feet have gone,
But yet the way of God we have not known.
We which have made our hearts a sea of pride,
With huge risae- billows of a swelling mind,
With tossing tumults of a flowing tide.
Leaving our laden bodies plung'd behind;
What traffic have we got ? ourselves are drown'j
Our souls in hell, our bodies in the ground.
Where are our riches now? like us consumV
Where is our pomp ? decay'd ; where's glory ?
dead;
Where is the wealth of which we all presum'd ?
Where is our profit ? gone; ourselves? misled;
All these are like to shadows what they were;
There is nor wealth, nor pomp, nor glory here.
The dial gives a caveat of the hour ; 10
Thou canst not see it go, yet it is gone ;
Like this the dial of thy fortune's power.
Which fades by stealth, till thou art left alone :
Thy eyes may well perceive thy goods are spent.
Yet can they not perceive which way they went.
I
THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON FARAPHRASED. 369
Lo, even as ships sailing on Tethya' lap
Plough' up the furrows of hard-grounded naves.
Enforced for to go by ^ol's clap,
Making with sharpest team the water graves ;
The ship once past, the trace cannot be found.
Although she digged in the water's ground :
Or as an eagle, with her soaring wings, 11
Scorning the dusty carpet of the earth,
Exempt from all her clogging jesses,'' flings
tjp to the air, to shew her mounting birth;
And every flight doth take a higher pitch,
To have the golden sun her wings enrich ;
Yet none can see the passage of her flight,
But only hear her hovering in the sky.
Beating the light wind with her being light,
Or parting through the air where she might fly ;
The ear may hear, the eye can never see
What course she takes, or where she means to be :
Or as an arrow which is made to go 12
Through the transparent and cool-blowing air.
Feeding upon the forces of the bow.
Else forceless lies in wanting her repair ;
Like as the branches when the tree is lopl,
Wanteth the forces which they forceless cropt ;
The arrow, being fed with strongest shot.
Doth part the lowest elemental breath.
Yet never separates the sof^ air's knot.
Nor never wounds the still-foot winds to death ;
It doth sejoin and join the air together,
Yet none there is can tell or where or whither :
• Plough} Old ed. " Plowaa."
!■ jeiiei] I. c. the short Icallier (traps niiiad the hawk's
legi, having little ring) to which the falcoaer'i lewb wms
nutened.
370 THE n
U OF SOLOHOK rABAFHBASeO.
So are our lives ; now they begin, now end, 13
Now live, now die, now born, now fit for grare ;
As soon as we have breath, lo soon we spend,
Not having that which our content would bave ;
Aa ships, as birds, as arrows, all as one.
Even BO the traces of our lives are gone:
A thing not seen to go, yet going seen, ^H
And yet not shewing any sign to go; ^M
Even thus the shadows of our lives have been, ^|
Which shew*' to fade, and yet no virtues shew :
How can a thing consum'd with vice be good ?
Or how can falsehood bear true virtue's foodf
Vain hope, to think that wickedness hath bearing 14
When she is drowned in oblivion's sea !
Yet can she not forget presumption's wearing,
Nor yet the badge of vanity's decay :
Her fruits arc cares, her cares are vanities, ^|
Two both in one destruction's liveries. ^H
Vain hope is like a vane turn'd with each wind ; ^1
'Tis like a smoke scattcr'd with every storm;
Like dust, sometime before, sometime behind ;
Like a ihin foam made in the vainest form :
This hope is like to them which never slay,
But comes and goes again all in one day.
View nature':
Some barren grounds there
fruit:
Nor hath all nothing, nor hath all her store ;
Nor can all creatures speak, nor are all mute ; I
All die by nature, being born by nature ;
So all change feature, being born with feature.
'■ i*(i*] Old ed. " shewei."
some gifls are rich, i
e clolb'd fl
THE WISDOM OF SOLOUON PARAPHRASED. 371
This life is hers ; this dead, dead is her poner,
Her bound" begins and ends in mortal slate i
Whom she on earth accounleth as her llower
May be in heaven condemn'd of mortal bate;
But he nhom virtue judges for to live.
The Lord his life and due reward will give.
The servant of a king may be a king, 16
And he that was a king a servile slave ;
Swans before death a funeral dirge do sing,
And wave' their wings again" ill fortune's wave:
He that is lowest in this lowly earth
May be the highest in celestial birth.
The rich may be unjust in being rich,
For riches do corrupt and not correct ;
The poor may come to highest honour's pitch,
And have heaven's crown for mortal life's respect :
God's hands shall cover them from all their foes,
God's arm defend them from misfortune's blows :
His hand eternity, his arm his force, 17, 18
His armour zealousy, his breast-plate heaven.
His helmet Judgment, Justice, and remorse,*
His shield is victory's immortal steven;'
The world his challenge, and his wrath his sword,
Mischief hia foe, his aid his gospel's word ;
His arm doth overthrow his enemy, 19, 20
His breast-plate sin, his helmet death and hell,
His shield prepar'd against mortality,
His sword 'gainst them which in the world do
dwell :
So shall vice, sin, and death, world and the devil,
Be slain by him which slayeth every evil,
'■ to««d] 0}<1 ed. " bounds."
■ warn] Old ed. " waves." ' i^oJn] i, e. against.
■ ritHoric] i. e. pity. ' j'rccn] i. e. voLce, aouiid.
373 TBE WIBDOU O? SOLOUOK
All heaven sliall be in arms against eat ill's world ; 21
Tlie sun aliall dart forth fire conirnix'd with blood.
The btaiing stais from heaven shall be hurl'd.
The pale-fac'd moon against the oeean-flood ;
Then shall the thundering chambers' of the aky
Be lighten 'd with the blaze of Titan's eye.
The clouds shall then be bent like bended bona.
To shoot the thundering arrows of the air ;
Thick hail and sioneit shall fall on heaven's foeSj_
And Teihya overflow in her despair;
The moon shall overfill her horny hood
With Neptune's ocean's overflowing flood.
The wind shall be no longer kept in caves,
But burst the iron cages of the clouds;
And £ol shall resign his office-staves.
Suffering the winds to combat with the floods :
So shall the earth with scQs be pal^d in,
As erst it hath been overflon'd with sin.
Thus shall the earth weep for her wicked sona.
And curse the concave of her tirM womb.
Into whose hollow mouth the water runs,
Making wet wilderness her driest tomb ;
Thus, thus iniquity hath reign'd so long,
That earth on earth is punish'd for her wrong.
Cu*r. VI.
After this conflict between God and man, 1
Remorse < took harbour in God's angry breaM;
Astrcea to be pitiful began.
All heavenly powers to lie in mercy's rest ;
Forthwith the voice of God did redescend,
And his Asiriea warn'd all lo amend.
I
THE WtSDOU OF SOLOMON FAEAFHRASED. 373
To you I speak, quoth she ; hear, learn, and mark, '2
You that be kings, judges, and potentates,
Give ear, I say; wisdom, your atrongesl ark,
Sends me as messenger to end debates ;
Give ear, I say, you judges of the earth,
Wisdom is born, seek out for wisdom's birth.
This heavenly embassage from wisdom's tongue, 3
Worthy the volume of all heaven's sky,
I bring as messenger to right your wrong;
If so, her sacred name might never die :
I bring you happy tidings ; she is born.
Like golden sunbeams from a silver morn.
The Lord hath seated you in judgment's seat.
Let wisdom place you in discretion's places ;
Two virtues, one will make one virtue great,
And draw more virtues with attractive faces ;
Be just and wise, for God is just and wise ;
He thoughts, he words, he words and actions
tries. ^
If you neglect your office's decrees, 4
Heap new lament on long-toss'd miseries.
Do and undo by reason of degrees,
And drown your sentences in briberies.
Favour and punish, spare and keep in awe,
Set and unset, plant and supplant the law :
O be assur'd there is a judge above, 5
Which will not let injustice flourish long;
If tempt him, you your own temptation move,
Proceeding from the judgment of his tongue :
Hard judgment shall he have which jiidgelli
hard.
And he that barreth others shall be barr'd.
374 THE WISDOU OP SOLDUON PARAPHKASED.
For God hath no respect of rich from poor, 6
For he hath made the poor and made the rich ;
Their bodies be alike, though their minds soar.
Their difference nought but in presumptioB'a
pilch :
The carcass of a king is kept from fou).
The beggar yet may have the cleaner soul.
The highest men do bear the highest minds;
The cedars scorn to bow, the mushrooms bend ;
The highest often superstition blinds.
But yet their fall is greatest in the end ;
The winds have not such power of the grass.
Because it lowly stoopeth wbcnas ihey pass.
The old should teach the young observance' way, 7
But now the young doth teach the elJer grace;
The shrubs do teach the cedars to obey.
These yield to winds, but these the winds oui-
Yct he that made the ninds to cease and blow.
Can make the highest fall, the lowest grow.
He made the great to stoop as well as small, 6
The lions to obey as other beasts;
He cares for all alike, yet cares for all,
And looks that all should answer his behests ;
But yet the greater hath the sorer trial.
If once be finds them with bis law's denial.
Be warn'd, you tyrants, at the fall of pride; 9
You see how surges change to quiet calm.
You see both flow and ebb in folly's tide.
How fingers are infected by their palm :
This may jour caveat be, you being kings.
Infect your subjects, which are lesser things.
THE WISDOM OF SOIOMOK
III scents of vice once crept into the head
Do* pierce into the chamber of the brain,
Making the outward skin disease's bed,
The inward powers as nourishers of pain ;
So if that mischief reigns in wisdom's place,
The inward thought lies figur'd in the face.
Wisdom should clothe herself in king's attire, 10
Being the portraiture of heaven's queen;
fiut tyrants are no kings, but mischiePs mire,
Notsage, but shows of what they shouldhave been;
They seek for vice, and how to go amins,
But do not once regard what wisdom is.
They which are kings by name are kings by deed,
Both rulers of themselves and of their land ;
They know that heaven is virtue's duest meed,
And holineHs is knit in holy band ;
These may be rightly called by their name.
Whose words and works are blaz'd in wisdom's flame.
To nurse up cruelty with mild aspect, 1 1
Were to begin, but never for to end ;
Kindness with tigers never takes effect.
Nor proflTer'd friendship with a foelike friend:
Tyrants and tigers have all natural mothers.
Tyrants her sons, tigers the tyrants' brothers.
No words' delight can move delight in them,
But rather plough the traces of their ire ;
Like swine, that take the dirt before the gem,
And Bcorn'' that pearl which they should most
fiut kings whose names proceed from kindness' sound
Do plant their hearts and thoughts on wisdom's
ground.
» Do] Old ed, " Dolli." ■■ .corn] Old rd. " «korni."
876 THE WIEDOU OF flOLOUON PABAFHKASED.
A grounding ever tnoisl, and ne*er dry, IS
An ever-iruitful eartli, no fruitless way,
In whose dear womb (he tender springs do lie,
Which ever flow and never ebb' away;
The iun but shines by day, she day and night
Doth keep one stayed essence of her light.
Her beams are conducts to her substance' view, 13
Her eye is adamant's attractive force ;
A shadow halh she none, but substance truci
Substance outliving life of mortal course:
Her sight is easy unto them which love her.
Her finding easy unto them which prove )ier.
The far-fet" chastity of female sex 14
Is nothing but allurement into lust,
Which will forswear and take, scorn and annex,
Deny and practise it, mistrust and trust :
Wisdom is chaste, and of another kind;
She loves, she likes, and yet not lustful blind.
She is true love, the other love a toy ;
Her love bath eyes, the other love is blind ;
This doth proceed from God, this from a boy ;
This constant is, the other vain-combio'd :
If longing passions follow her desire.
She offereth herself as labour's hire.
She is not coyish she, won by delay, |5
With sighs and passions, which all lovers use.
With hot affection, death, or life's decay.
With lovers' toys, which might their loves ex-
Wisdom is poor, her dowry is content ;
She nothing hath, because she nothing spent.
She is not woo'd to love, nor won by wooing:
Nor got by labour, nor possess'd by pain ;
The gain of her consiats in honest doing ;
Her gain is great in that she hath no gain ;
He that betimes follows repentance' way
Shall meet with her his virtue's worthy pay.
To think upon her is to think of bliss, 1(>
The very thought of her !s mischief's bar,
Depeller of misdeeds which do amiss,
■The btot of vanity, misfortune's scar:
Who would not think, to reap such gain liy
thought ?
Who would not love, when such a life is bought?
If thought be understanding, what is she!
The full perfection of a perfect power,
A heavenly branch from God's immortal tree,
Which death, nor hell, nor mischief can de-
Herself is wisdom, and her thought is ao ;
Thrice happy he which doth desire to know !
She man-like woos, men women-like refuses ; 17
She offers love, they offer'd love deny.
And hold her promises as love's abuses,
Because she pleads with an indifferent eye ;
They think that she is light, vain, and unjust,
When she doth plead for love, and not for lust.
Hard-hearted men, quoth she, con yoii not love f
Behold my substance, cannot substance please?
Behold my feature, cannot feature move ?
Can substance nor my feature help or ease ?
See heaven's joy deligur'd in my face.
Can neither heaven nor joy turn you to grace ?
ST8 THB WISDOM OF
O, how desire sways her pleading tongue, 18
Her tongue her heart, her heart her soul's afiec-
Fain would she make mortality be strong,
But mortal weakness yields rejection:
Her care la care of them, they careless are ;
Her love loves them, they neither love nor csre.
Fain would she make them clients in her law, 19
Whose law's assurance is immortal honour;
But them nor words, nor love, nor care can awe.
But still will fight under destruction's bouner :''
Though immortality be their reward.
Yet neither words nor deeds will they regard.
Her tongue is hoarse with pleading, yet doih
plead, 30
Pleading for that which they should all desire ;
Their appetite is heavy, made of lead.
And lead can never melt without a fire:
Her words are mild, and cannot raise a heat,
Whilst they with hard repulse her speeches beat.
Requested they, for what they should request;
Entreated they, for what they should entreat ;
Requested to enjoy their quiet rest.
Entreated like a sullen bird to eat;
Their eyes behold joy's maker which doth make it.
Yet must they be entreated for to take it.
You whose delight is plac'd in honour's game, 21
Whose game m majesty's imperial throne.
Majestic portraitures of earthly fame,
Relievers of the poor in age's moan ;
If your content be sealed on a crown,
Love wisdom, and your state shall never down,
" itmtier] So wrilten Tor [lie rhyme.
\
Her crowns are not as earthly diadems,
t diapasons of eternal rest;
Her essence comes not from terrestrial stems,
But planted on the heaven's immortal breast :
If you delight in sceptres and in reigning,
Delight in her, your crown's immortal gaining.
Although the shadow' of
Hath been aB accessary to your eyes.
Now will I shew you the true substance' hue.
And what she is, which without knowledge lie
From whence she is deriv'd, whence her descent,
And whence the lineage of her birth is lent:
Now will I shew the sky, and not the cloud ;
The sun, and not the shade ; day, not the night ;
Tethys herself, not Teihys in her flood;
Light, and not shadow of suppressing light ;
Wisdom herself, true type of wisdom's grace,
Shall be apparent before heart and face.
Had I still fed you with the shade of life, 23
And hid the sun itself in envy's air.
Myself might well be called nature's strife.
Striving to cloud that which all clouds impair;
But envy, haste thee hence ! I loathe thy eye,
Thy love, thy life, thyself, thy company.
Here is the banner of dis
Advanc'd on wisdom's ever- standing
Here ia no place for envy or her shamt
For Nemesis, or black Megaera's poi
He that is envious is not wisdom's friei
She ever lives, he dies when envies ent
' thadoH-] Old «d. " fhadowei."
3SD THE WISDOU OF SOLOUOM PAKAFRBASKD.
Happy, thrice-happy land, where nisdotn reigns .' 24
Happy, tlirice-happy king, whom wisdom sways .'
Where never poor laments, or soul™ complains,
Where foUy never keeps discretion's ways ;
That land, that king doth dourisli, live, and joy.
Far from ill-fortune's reach or sin's annoy.
That land is happy, that king fortunate, 2£
She in her days, he in his wisdom's force ;
For fortitude is wisdom's sociale.
And wisdom truest fortitude's remorse :
Be therefore rul'd by wisdom, she is chief,
Thai you may rule in joy, and not in grief.
Chap. VII.
What am 1 7 man ; 0 what ia man ? O nought ! 1
What, am I nought? yes; what? sin and debate:
Three vices all in one, of one life bought :
Man am I not; what then? ! am man's hate;
Yes, man 1 am ; man, because mortal, dead ;
Mortality my guide, by mischief led.
Man, because like to man, man, because boro ;
In birth no man, a child, child, because weak ;
Weak, because weaken'd by ill-fortune's acorn ;
Scorn'd, because mortal, mortal, in wrong's wreak :
My father, like myself, did live on earth ;
I, like myself and him, follow his birth.
My mother's matrice was my body's maker, 2
There had 1 this same shape of infamies ;
Shape? ah, no shape, but substance mischiefs taker!
In ten months' fashion; months? ah, mi
The sliame of shape, the very shape of shar
Calamity myself, lament my name.
•• iBul] Old ed. " louln,"
THE VISDDH OF SOLOUON PASAFHRASZO. 881
I was conceiv'd with seed, deceiv'd with sin ;
Deceiv'd, because my seed was sin's deceit;
My seed deceit, because it clos'd me in,
Hemtn'd me about, for sin's and mischief's bait :
The seed of man did brin^ me into blood,
And now I bring myself, m what ? no good.
MHien I was born, when I was, then I was ; 3
Born? when? yet born 1 was, but now I bear,
Bear mine own vices, which my joys surpass,
Bear mine own burden full of mischief's fear:
When I was born, I did not bear lament ;
But now unborn, 1 bear what birth hath spent.
When I was born, ray brenth was born to me.
The common air which airs my body's form ;
Then fell 1 on the earth with feeble knee,
Lamenting for my life's ill-fortune's storm ;
Making myself the index of my woe,
Commencing what I could, ere I could go.
Fed was I with lament, as well as meat ; 4
My milk was sweet, but tears did make it sour ;
Meat and lament, milk and my tears I eat,
As bitter herbs commix'd with sweetest Hower ;
Care was my swaddling clothes, as welt as cloth.
For I was swaddled™ and cloth'd in both.
Why do I make myself more than I am? 5
Why say 1, I am nourished with cares.
When every one is clothed with the same,
Sith" asl fare myself, another fares?
No king hath any other birth than I,
But wail'd his fortune with a watery eye.
~ iaadiikd'\ To be pronounced u a iriiyllsbU.
Saj.wl
rhM ii wee ! as tMriww wtio jmnh ;
Tint wUdt b^iM with jojr ioth Dot md w>.
^fc*** t9 W tfc"Mg>i ttraMic « cbsnging binli :
Onr btftfa ii as enr dtwth, hodi barren, bare j
Oar entrance wail, cwr gocng ont wiib care.
Naked we caioe into ibe world, u naked,
We bad DM wealth nor riches to poMcaa ;
Now dificr we, which difference ricbea malted.
Yet in the end we tiafced oe'enbelesa ;
A> our b^iuuDg is, lo is oar end.
Naked aad poor, which needs ito wealth to »
T*fat)s weighing in the balance of my mind
My state, all itates, my birth, alt births alik
My meditated passions could not find
One freed thought which sorrow did not strike ;
But knowing every ill is cur'd by prayer.
My mind besought the Lord, my grief's allayei
Wherefore I pray'd ; my prayer took effect.
And my effect was good, my good was gain fl
My gain was sacred wisdom's bright aspict,
And her aspect in my respect did reign ;
Wisdom, that heavenly spirit of content,
Was unto mc from heaven by prayer sent :
A present far more worthy than a crown/
Because the crown of an eternal rest ;
A present far more worthy than e throne,
Because the throne of heaven, which makea U
blest ;
The crown of bliss, the throne of God is she ;
Compared unto heaven, not, earth, to thee,
THE WISI>OK OF SOLOMON PABAPHHASED.
Her footstool is thy face, her face ihy shame ;
Thy shame her living praise, her praise thy
Thy scorn her love, her love thy merit's blame ;
Thy blume her worth, her worth thy being born r
Thyself art dross to her comparison ;
Thy valour weak unto her garrison.
To liken gold unto her radiant face, 9
Were likening day to night, and night to day,
The king's high seat to the low subject's place.
And heaven's translucent breast to earthly way:
For what is gold ? her acorn ; her scorn ? her ire ;
Melting that dross with nought but anger's fire.
In her respect 'tis dust, in her aspects
Earth, in respect of her 'tis little gravel;
As dust, as earth, as gravel she rejects
The hope, the gain, the sight, the price, the
travel ;
Silver, because inferior to the oiher,
Is clay, which two she in one look doth smother.
Her sight 1 callM health, herself my beauty ; 10
Health as my life, and beauty as my light ;
Each in performance of the other's duty.
This curing grief, this leading me aright ;
Two sovereign eyes, belonging to two places.
This guides the soul, and this the body graces.
The heart-sick soul is cur'd by heart-strong health,
The heart-strong health is the soul's brightest eye,
The heart-sick body heal'd by beauty's wealth;
Two sunny windolets of cither's sky, -
Whose beams cannot be clouded by reproach.
Nor yet dismounted from so bright a coach.
384 TUB WUDOM OF SOLOMON PARAPinUSBD.
What dowry could I wish more than 1 have ? II
What wealth, what honoar, more than I possess f
My soul's request is mine, which I did crave;
For sole redress in soul I have redress :
The bodily expenses which I spend,
Are"" lent by her which my delight doth lend.
Then ! may call her author of my good,
Sith" good and goods are portions for my love;
I love her well ; who would not love hia food.
His joy's mainlainer, which all woes remove?
I richest am, because I Jo possess her ;
I strongest am, in that none can oppress her.
It made me glad to think that I was rich, IS
More gladder for to think that I was strong ;
For lowest minds do covel highest pitch,
As highest braves proceed from lowest tongue r
Her first arrival first did make me glad,
Yet ignorant at first, first made me sad.
Joyful I was, because I saw her power,
Woeful 1 was, because I knew her not ;
Glad that her face was in mine eyes'-lock'd bower,
Sad that my senses never drew her plot:
I knew not that she was discretion's mother,
Though I profess'd myself to be her brother.
Like a rash wooer feeding on the looks, is
Disgesting" beauty, apparition's shew.
Viewing the painted outside of the books.
And inward works little regards to know ;
So 1, feeding my fancies with her sight.
Forgot to make inquiry of her might.
External powers 1 knew, ricliea I had,
InEernal powera 1 scarcely had discerii'd ;
Unfeignedly 1 learned lo be glad,
Feigning 1 hated, verity I learn'd :
I was not envioua-learned to forsake her,
But I was loving'learned for lo take her.
And had I not, my treasure had been lost, 1^
My loss my peril's hazard had proclaim'd,
My peril had my life's destruction tost.
My life's destruction at my soul had aim'd:
Great perils hazarded from one poor loss,
As greatest filth doth come with smallest dross.
This righteous treasure whoso rightly useth,
Shall be an heir in heaven's eternity;
All earthly fruits her heritage excuseth,
All happiness in her felicity :
The love of God consists in her embracing.
The gif\s of knowledge in her wisdom's placing.
I speak as I am prompted by my mind, I-
My soul's chief agent, pleader of ray cause ;
I speak these things, and what I speak I find,
By heaven's judgment, not mine own ap
plause:
God he is judge ; I next, because I have her ;
God he doth know ; I next, because I crave her.
Should I direct, and God subvert my tongue,
I worthy were of an unworthy name,
Unworthy of my right, not of my wrong.
Unworthy of my praise, not of my shame;
But seeing God directs my tongue from missing,
I rather look for clapping than for hissing.
3R6 TBS viBDOif or solouok pabaphkasko.
He \e the prompter of my tongue and me, 16
My tong:ue doth utier what liis tongue applies ;
He sets before my sight what I shou! J see,
He breathes into my heart his verities ;
He tellg me what I think, or see, or hear;
HiB tongue a part, my tongue a part doth bear.
Our words he knows in telling of our hearts,
Our hearts he knows in telling of our words;
All in his hands, words, wisdom, works, and arts,
And every power which influence aflbrds ;
He knows what we will speak, what wc will do,
And how our minds and actions will go.
The wisdom which I have is heaven's gif^ 1?
The knowledge which I have is God's reward ;
Both presents my forewarned senses lift,
And of my preservation had regard :
This teaches me to know, this to be wise ;
Knowledge is wit's, and wit is knowledge' guiae.
Now know I how the world was first created* IB
How every motion of the air was fram'd,
How man was made, the devil's pride abated.
How time's beginning, midst, and end was nam'd;
Now know I time, lime'^ changej time's date, time's
show.
And when the seasons come, and wheo they go :
I know the changing courses of the years, ij)
And the division of all differing climes,
The situation of ihe stars and spheres.
The flowing tides, and the flow-ebhing times ;
I know that every year hath his four courses,
I know that every course hath several forces.
THE WISDOM OF
FARAPHKA5ED. 387
I know that nature is in every thing, 20
Beasts furious, winds rough, men wicked are,
Whose thoughts their scourge, whose deeds their
judgment's sting,
Whose words and works their peril and their care ;
I know that every plant hath difTerence,
I know that every root hath influence.
True knowledge have I got in knowing truthi 21
True wisdom purchased in wisest wit ;
A knowledge fitting age, wit fitting youth,
Which makes me young, though old with gain of it:
True knowledge have I, and true wisdom's store,
True hap, true hope ; what wish, what would I more?
KDown things I needs must know, si tli ^ not unknown,
My care is knowledge, she doth hear for me ;
All secrets know I more because not shewn ;
My wisdom secret is, and her I see :
Knowledge hath taughtmehow to hear known causes,
Wisdom hath taught me secrecy's applauses.
It things 22
Knowledge and wisdom known
la reason's mate, discretion's sentmei ;
More than a trine of joys from virtues springs,
More than one union, yet in union dwell :
One for to guide the spring, summer the other ;
One harvest's nurse, the other winter's mother.
Four mounts and four high mounters, all four one,
One holy union, one begotten life.
One manifold affection, yet alone,
All one in peace's rest, all none in strife j
Sure, stable, without care, having all power,
Not faurtful, doing good, as one all four.
388 THE WISDOK OF SOIOUOK PA&AI>nKABEI>.
This peaceful army of fow-knitied souls
Is inarching unto peace's enillesK war.
Their weapons are ilisereiion's written rolla,
Their quarrel love, and atniiy iheir jar:
Wisdom director is, captain nnd guide ;
All other take their places side by side.
Wisdom divides the conflict of her peace
Into four squadrons of four mutual loves ;
Each bent to war, and never means to ceftie ;
Her wings of shot her disputation moves :
She wars unseen, and pacifies unseen ;
She is war's victory, yet peace's queen.
She is the martial trumpet of alarms,
And yet the quiet rest in peace's night;
She guideth martial troops, she honours arms,
Yet joins she fight with peace, and peace v
fight;
Siie is the breath of God's and heaven's power,
Vet peace's nurse in being peace's flower,
A dovring in of that which ebbeth out,
An ebbing out of that which floneth in ;
Frcsumplion she doth hate in being stout,
Humility, though poor, her favours win :
She is the influence of heaven's flow ;
No filth doth follow her where'er she go.
She is that spring which never hath an ebb.
That silver-cofour'd brook which hath no i
That loom which weaves and never cuts the
That tree which grows and never leaves j
bud:
She constant is, inconstancy her foe ;
She doth not flow and ebb, nor come and go.
THE WISDOM OF SOIOUON PARAPHRASED.
Phccbus doth weep wlien watery clouds approach.
She keeps her brightness everlastingly ;
Phtcbe, when Phcehua shinea, forsakes night's coach,
Her day Js night and day immortally;
The undefiled mirror of renown.
The image of God's power, her virtue's crown.
, knowledge, wit, and reason's skill, 27
All four are places in one only grace ;
They wisdom are, obedient to her will.
All four are one, one in all four's place ;
And wisdom being one, she can do all,
Sithi one hath four, all subject to one call.
Herself remaining self, the world renews, 28
Henewing ages with perpetual youth,
Entering into the souls which death pursues.
Making them God's friends which were friends
to truth :
If wisdom doth not harbour in thy mind,
God loves thee not, and that thy soul shall find.
For how canst thou be led without thy light? 29
How can thy eyeless soul direct her way.
If wanting her which guides thy steps aright,
Thy steps from night into a path of day?
More beautiful then is the eye of heaven,
Gilding herself with her self-changing ateven.'
The stars are twinkling handmaids to the moon, 30
Both moon and stars handmaids to wisdom's sun ;
These shine at middest night, this at midnoon,
Each new'begins their light when each halh done ;
Pale-mantled night follows red-mantled day.
Vice follows both, but to her own decay.
1 Siih'] i. e. since. ' Keuen] See note, p, 371.
390 TSS WtSCOM OF SOLOUOK PAKAFHRASLD.
CH*r. %in.
Who is the empress of tlie world's confine, 1
The monarchess of the four-eorner'd eartb,
The princess of the seas, life wiihout 6ne,
Commixer of delight with sorrow's mirth ?
JVhat sovereign is she which ever reigns,
Which queen-like governs all, yet none cooslraina !
Wisdom ; O fly, my spirit, with that word !
Wisdom ; O lodge, my spirit, in that name I
Fly, soul, unlo the mansion of her lord,
Although thy wings be singed in ber flame:
Tell her my blackness doth admire her beauty ;
I'll marry her in love, serve her in duty.
If marry her, God is my father God, 2
Christ is my brother, angels are my kin,
The earth my dowry, heaven my abode.
My rule the world, my life without iny Bin ;
She is the daughter of immortal Jove;
My wife in heart, in thought, in soul, in love.
Happy for ever he that thought in heart,
Happy for ever he that heart in thought ;
Hnppy the soul of both which bears both part,
Happy that love which thought, heart, soul hath
sought :
The name of love is happiest, for 1 love her;
Soul, heart, and thoughts, love's agents are to prove
bet.
Ye parents, that would have your children rul'd, 3
Here may they be instructed, rul'd, and taught;
Ye children, that would have your parents school'd,
Feedbg their wanton thirst with folly's draught.
See here the school of discipline erected !
See here how yoimg and old are both corrected !
THE W18D0JI OF
PARAPBKASED.
CKildren, tliis is the mistress of your bliss,
Your schoolmistress, reformer of your lives;
Parents, you that do speak, think, do amiss,
Here's she which love's and life's direction gives ;
She teacheth that which God knows to be true,
She chooseth that which God would choose for
yoii.
What is 01
What is
What is 01
What is
Our birth,
What birth
birth ? poor, naked, needy, cold ; 4
lur life? poor as our birth hath been ;
' age 7 forlorn in being old ;
lur end? as our beginning's scene:
)ur life, our age, our end is poor ;
what age, what end hath
what I
■e?
Made rich it is wiib vanity's vain show ;
If wanting wisdom, it is folly's, game ;
Or like a bended or unbended bow,
III fortune's scoff it is, good fortune's shame :
If wisdom be the riches of tby mind.
Then can thy fortune see, not seeing, blind.
Then if good fortune doth begin tby stale, '.
Ill fortune cannot end what she begins ;
Thy fate at first will still remain thy fate,
Thy conduct unto joys, not unto sins :
If thou the bridegroom art, wisdom the bride*
111 fortune cannot swim against thy tide.
Thou marrying her dost marry more than she, (
Thy poriion is not faculties, but bliss;
Thou need'st not leaching, for she teacheth thee.
Nor no reformer, she thy mistress is ;
The lesson which she gives thee for thy learning
Is every virtue's love, and sin's discerning.
392 THK vnsDou of BOLOUOK FABJUin&Sm {
Dost thou desire eKpericnce for to knowf
Why, hon can she be less than what she at
The growth of knonledge doth from wisdom g
The growth of wisdom is in knowing this :
Wisdom can tell all things, what things are past.
What done, what undone, what are doing lalt^_
Nay, more, what things are come, what are to e
Or words, or works, or shews, or actions,
In her brain's tahle-book* she hath the sum.
And knows dark sentences' solutions ;
She knows what signs and wonders will ensue^
And when success of seasons will be new.
Who would not be a bridegroom? who not wed t B
Who would not have a bride so wise, so fair?
Who would not lie in such a peaceful bed,
Whose canopy is heaven, whose shade the air i
How can it be that any of the skies
Can there be missing, where heaven's kingdom lies [
If care-sick, I am comforted with joy ;
If surfeiting on joy, she bids tne care ;
She says that overmuch will soon annoy,
Too much ofjoy, too much of sorrow's
She always counsels me to keep a mean.
And not with joy too fat, with grief too lean, ■
Fain would the shrub grow by the highest tree,
Fain would the mushroom kiss the cedar's bark.
Fain would the seely' worm a-sporting be,
Fain would the sparrow imitate the lark :
Though I a tender shrub, a mushroom be.
Yet covet I the honour of a tree.
PARAPBIIABES. 393
And may I not ? may not the blossoms bud ?
Doth not the littlu seed make ears of corn ?
Dotli not a sprig, in time, bear greatest wood ?
Do" not young evenings make an elder morn?
i'or wisdom's sake, 1 know, though 1 be young,
I shall have praises fVom ray elders' tongue.
And as my growth doth rise, so shall my wil, 10
And as my wit doth rise, so shall my growth ;
In wit I grow, both growths grow to be fit,
Both fitting in one growth be fittest both :
Experience follows age, and nature youth ;
Some aged be in wit, though young in ruth.
The wisdom which I have springs from above,
The wisdom from above is that I have ;
Her 1 adore, I reverence, I love,
She's my pure soid, lock'd in my body's grave ;
The judgment which I use from her proceeds.
Which makes me raarvell'd at in all my deeds.
Although mme silence tie my judgment's tongue,
Sad secretary of dumb action, 11
\ Yet shall they give me place, though I be young,
And stay my leisure's satisfaction ;
Even as a judge, which keeps his judgments mute,
~lien clients have no answer of their suit.
Pat '^ ''^^ closure of my mouth unmeets,
i^^tid dives within the freedom of my words,
■V like petitioners' tongues welcome greets,
' with attentive ear hears my accords;
V words into no limits go,
!ch shall ebb, mine in their ebbing flow.
] Old ed. •• Doth."
394 THE WISDOM OP SOLOMOK PAHAPBBASED.
And what of thia vain world, vain hope, vain shew.
Vain glory seated in a shade of praise.
Mortality's descent and folly's flow,
The badge of vaniiy, the hour of days;
What glory is it for to be a king,
When care is crown, and crown ii forttme's s
Wisdom is inimorlality's alline,"
And immortality is wisdom's gain,
By her the heaven's lineage is mine,
By her 1 immortality obtain ;
The earth is made immortal in my name,
The heavens ate made immortal m my fame.
Two spacious orbs of two as spacious cliiou
Shall be the heritage which 1 possess ;
My rule in heaven, directing earthly times.
My reign in earth, commencing earth's redress ;
One king made two, one crown a double crown.
One rule two rules, one fame a twice renown.
What heaven is this, which every thought con>
tains? 14
Wisdom my heaven, my heaven is wisdom's heaven;
What earth is this, wherein my body reigns?
Wisdom my earth, all rule from wisdom given ;
Through her 1 rule, through her I do subdue.
Through her I reign, ihroiigh her my empire grew.
A rule, not tyranny, a reign, not blood.
An empire, not a slaughter-house of lives,
A crown, not cruelty in fury's mood,
A sceptre which restores, and not deprives;
All made to make a peace, and not a war.
By wisdom, concord's queen and discord's bar. 1
° altine] i. e, sUy.
15
\
The coldest word oli cools the hottest threat,
The tyrant's menaces the calma of peace ;
Two colds augmeoteth one, tno heats one heat,
And makes both too extreme when both
My peaceful reign shall conquer tyrants' force,
Not arms, but words, not battle, '
Yet mighty shall I be, though war in peace, 16
Strong, though ability hath left his clime,
And good, because my wars and battles cease,
Or, at the least, lie smother'd in their prime:
The fence once digged up with fear's amaze,
Doth rage untam'd with folly's fenceless gaze.
If wisdom doth not harbour in delight.
It breaks the outward passage of the mind ;
Therefore I place my war in wisdom's might,
Whose heavy labours easy harbours find;
Her company is pleasure, mirth, and joy,
Not bitterness, not mourning, not annoy.
When every thought was balanced by weight 17
Within the concave of my body's scale.
My heart and soul did hold the balance straight,
To see what thought was joy, what thought was
But when I saw that grief did weigh down pleasure,
I put in wisdom to augment her treasure :
Wisdom, the weight of immortality ; 1 8
Wisdom, the balance of all happiness ;
Wisdom, the weigher of felicity ;
Wisdom, the paragon of blessedness ;
When in her hands there lies such plenty's store.
Needs must her heart have twice as much and more.
' rtmernl i. e. pity.
896 THE mSDOM OF SOLOMON TilSAFH RASED.
Her heart have I conjoined with her hand, 19
Her hand hatli she conjoined with my heart.
Two BOuls one soul, two hearts one body's band.
And two hands made of ibur, by amour's art :
Was I not wise in choosing earthly life?
Nay, wise, thrice wise, in choosing such a wife t
Was I not good? good, then the sooner bad; 20
Bad, because earth is full of wickedness.
Because my body is with vices clad,
Anatomy of my Bin's heaviness :
As doth unseemly clothes make the skin faol^l
So the sin-inked body blots the soul.
Thus lay my heart plung'd in destruction's mirr.fl
Thus lay my soul bespotted with my sin.
Thus lay myself consum'd in my desire.
Thus lay all parts ensnared in one gin ;
At last my heart, mounting above the mud.
Lay between hope and death, mischief and good.
Thus panting, ignorant to live or die,
To rise or fall, to stand or else to sink,
I cast a fainting look unto the sky.
And saw the thought which my poor l
ibink ;
Wisdom my ihoughl, at whose seen sight I
And with my heart, my mind, my sou!, I saidj
O God of fathers, Lord of heaven and earth, j
Mercy's true sovereign, pity's portraiture
King of all kings, a birth surpassing birth,
A life immortal, essence ever pure.
Which with a breath ascending from thy thought,
Hast made the heavens of earth, the earth of nought t
THE WISDOM OF BOLOMOK
Thou wliich hast made mortality for man,
Beginning life to make an end of woe,
Ending in liim what in himself began,
His earth's dominion through thy v
flow;
Made for to lule according lo desert,
And execute revenge with upright heait;
Behold a crown, but yet a crown of care, 4
Behold a sceptre, yet a sorrow's guise,
More than tlie balance of my head can bear,
More than my hands can hold, wherein it lies ;
My crown doth want supportance for to bear,
My sceptre wanteth empire for to wear.
A legless body is my kingdom's map,
Limping in folly, halting in distress;
Give me thy wisdom, Lord, my better hap.
Which may my folly cure, my grief redress ;
O let me not fall in oblivion's cave !
Let wisdom be my bail, for her 1 crave.
Behold thy servant pleading for his hire, S
As an apprentice to thy gospel's word!
Behold hia poor estate, his hot-cold fire,
His weak-strong limbs, hia merry woes' record !
Born of a woman, woman-like in woe,
They weak, they feeble are, and I am so.
My time of life is as an hour of day,
Tis as a day of months, a month of years ;
It never comes again, but fades away.
As one morn's sun about the hemispheres:
Little my memory, lesser my time.
But least of all my understanding's prime.
398 TBE WIIDOM OF ROLOKOK PARAPH RASKD,
Say that my memory should never die.
Say that my time should never lose a glide.
Say that myself hati earthly majesty,
Seated in all the elory of my pride ;
Yet if discretion did not rule my mrnd.
My reign would be like fortune's, folly-bliad :
My tnemory a pathway to my shame.
My time the looking-glass of my disgrace,
Myself resemblance of my scorned name,
My pride the puffed shadow of my face :
Thus should I be remember'd, not regarded ;
Thus should my labours end, but not rewarded.
What were it to be shadow of a king?
A vanity; lo wear a shadow'd crown?
A vaniiy; to love an outward thing?
A vanity ; vain shadows of renown ;
This king is king of shades, because a shade,
A king in show, though not in action made.
His shape have I, his cognizance" I wear,
A smoky vapour hemm'd with vanity;
Himself I am, his kingdom's crown T bear.
Unless that wisdom change my livery i
A king I am, God hath inflamM me.
And lesser than I am I cannot be.
When I command, the people do obey,
Submissive suhjecia to my votive will j
A prince I am, and do what princes may,
Decree, command, rule, judge, perform, fulfil ^M
Yet I myself am subject unto God,
As are all others to my judgment's rod.
° ei>gaitatux] i. t. badge.
TBS WISDOM OP SOLOUOM PAKAFHKASEO. 399
As do my subjecl[s] honour my cotnmand,
So 1 at his command a subject am ;
I build a temple on mount Sion'a sand.
Erect an aJiar in thy city's name;
Resemblances these are nhere thou dost dnell,
Made when thou framed'st beaven, earth, and bell.
All these three casements were contain'd in wit ; 9
Twas wisdom for to frame the heaven's sky,
'Twaa wisdom for to make the earth so lit.
And hell within the lowest orb to lie,
To make a heavenly clime, an earthly courae,
And hell, although the name of it be worse.
Before the world was made wisdom was born,
Bom of heaven's God, conceived in his breast,
Which knew what works would be, what ages
What labours life should have, what quiet rest.
What should displease and please, in vice, in good,
What should be clearest spring, what foulest mud.
O make my sinful body's world anew, 10
Erect new elements, new airs, new skies !
The time I have is frail, the course untrue,
The globe uneonstant, like ill fortune's eyes :
First make the world, which doth my soul con-
And next my wisdom, in whose power I reign.
Illumine earth with wisdom's heavenly sight,
Make her ambassador to grace the earth ;
O let her rest by day and lodge by night
Within the closure of my body's hearth I
That in her sacred self I may perceive
What things are good to take, what ill to leave.
400 TUB WIBDOH OF SOIOUOK PAKAPHIUSED.
The body'* heat will flow into the &ce.
The outward index of an outward deed;
The inward ains do keep an inward plac
Eyes, face, mouth, tongue, and every fuE
She is ray face; if I do any iU,
I see my shame in her repugnant will.
She is my glass, my type, my form, my map.
The figure of my deed, shape of my though^V
My life's charicter, fortune to my hap, ^
Which understandeth all that heart hath wroii|
What works I take in hand she finisheih.
And all my vicious thoughts diminisbetli.
My facts arc written in her forehead's book, 13
The volume of my thoughts, lines of my words ; -
The sins I have she murders with a look.
And what one cheek denies, th' other afibrds ;
As white and red, like battles and retreats.
One doth defend the blows, the other beats ;
So is her furious mood c
Her rod is profit, her c
She makes me keep an acceptable style,
And govern every limit of the earth :
Through her the state of monarchy is known.
Through her I rule, and guide my father's throoe.
Mortality itself, without repair,
Is ever falling feebly on the ground ;
SubmisBive body, heart above the air,
Which fain would know, when knowledge ii
Pain would it soar above the eagle's eye,
Though it be made of lead, and cannot By.
TBE W13D0M OF SOLOMON PARA7HSA3ED. 401
The soul and body are the wings of man;
The soul should mount, but that lies drown'd i)
With leaden spirit, but doth what it can,
Yet scarcely can it rise when it is in ;
Then how can man so weak know God so strong 1
What heart from thought, what thought from heart
hath sprung?
We think that every judgment is alike, 14
That every purpose hath one final end ;
Our thoughts, alas ! are fears, fears horrors strike,
Horrors our life's uncertain course do spend;
Fear follows negligence, both death and hell ;
Unconstant are the paths wherein we dwell.
The hollow concave of our body's vaults 15
Once laden up with sin's eternal graves,
Straight bursts into the soul the slime of faults,
And overfloweth like a sea of waves ;
The earth, as neighbour to our privy thought,
Keeps fast the mansion which our cares have bought.
Say, can we see ourselves? are we so wise? 16
Or can we judge our own with our own hearts ?
Alas, we cannot! folly blinds our eyes.
Mischief our minds, with her mischievous arts :
Folly reigns there where wisdom should bear sway,
And folly's mischief bars discretion's way.
O weak capacity of strongest wit!
O strong capacity of weaker sense !
To guide, to meditate, unapt, unfit.
Blind in perceiving earth's circumfluence :
If labour doth consist in mortal skill,
'Tis greater labour to know heaven's will.
403 THE WItDOU or aOLOUON PABAPBRASSD. I
The toiling spirit ofa labouring man
Ir toss'd in casualties of fortune's seas;
He thinks it greater labour than he can,
To run his mortal course nithoul an ease:
Then who can gain or And celestial thtnga.
Unless tlicir hope' a greater labour brings!
What volume of thy mind can then contain
Thoughts, words, and works, which God tfaifl
speaks, and makes,
When heaven itself cannot such honour gain.
Nor angels know the counsel which God talcea I
Vet if thy heart be wisUom's mansion.
Thy soul filial 1 gain tliy heart's made mention.
Who can in one day's space make two day's toil? 18
Or who in two days' space will spend but one? •
The one doih keep his mean in overbroil,
The other under mean, because alone ;
Say, what is man without his spirit sways bin
Say, what's the spirit if the man decays him T >
An ilUreformed breath, a life, a hell,
A going out worse than a coming in ;
For wisdom is the body's sentinel,
Set to guard life, which else would fall in sin;
She doth correct and love, sways and preserves,
TeachcE and favours, rules and yet observes.
C«AP. X.
Correction follows love, love follows hate,
For love in hale is hate in too much love j
So chastisement is preservation's mate,
Instructing and preserving those we prove :
So wisdom first corrects, then favoureth.
But fortune favours first, then waveretb.
■ hofu] Old eil. " hopM."
THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON PAHAPHBAaBD. 403
Ftral, the first father of this earthly world,
First mail, first fatlier call'd for afler-time,
Unfashion^d and like a heap was hurl'd,
Form'd and reform'd by wisdom out of slime ;
By nature ill reform'd, by wisdom purer,
She mortal life, ahe better life's procurer.
Alas, what was lie but a clod of day ? 2
What ever was he but an ashy cask?
By wisdom clothed in his best array,
If better may be best to choose a task :
One gave him time to live, sbe power to reign,
Making two powers one, one power twain.
But, O malign, ill-boding wickedness, 3
Like bursting gulfs o'erwhelming virtue's seed.'
Too furious wrath, forsaking happiness,
Losing ten thousand joys with one dire deed:
Cain could see, but folly struck bim blind.
To kill his brother in a raging mind.
O too unhappy stroke to end two lives! 4
Unhappy actor in death's tr^edy,
Murdering a brother wbose name murder gives,
Whose slaying action slaughters butchery :
A weeping part had earth in that same play,
For she did weep herself to death that day.
Water distili'd from millions of her eyes,
Upon tbe long-dried carcass of her time ;
Her watery conduits were the weeping skies.
Which made her womb an overflowing elime :
Wisdom preserv'd it, which preserves all good,
And taught it how to make an ark of wood.
404 TRI WIgDOU OF SOLOMON
O that one board should save so many lives, S
Upon the world's huge billow-toBsing se* !
Tiras not the board, 'twas wisdom whicb sarrires,
Wisdom that ark, that board, that fence, that bftj :
The world was made a water-rolling ware.
But wisdom belter hope's assurance gave.
And when pale malice did advance her flag
Upon the raging standard of despite.
Fiend's sovereign, sin's mistress, and hell's bag,
Dun Pliito'i lady, empress of (he night;
Wisdom, from whom immortal joy begun,
Prcserv'd the righteous as her faultless son.
The wicked perished, but they surviv'd; 6
The nicked were ensnar'd, they were preurr'd ;
One kept in joy, the one of joy depriv'd ;
One feeding, fed, the other feeding, starv'd :
The food which wisdom gives is nourisfamenti
The food which malice gives is languishment.
One feeds, the other feeds, but choking feeds ;
Two contraries in meat, two difTering meats;
This brings forth hate, and this repentance' seeds ;
This war, this peace, this battles, this retreats :
And that example may be truly tried.
These liv'd in Sodom's fire, the other died.
The land will bear me witness they are dead, 7
Which, for their sakes, bearfsj nothing else but
death ;
The witness of itself wiih vices fed,
A smoky testimony of sin's breath :
This is my witness, iny certificate.
And this is my sin -weeping sociate.
THE WIBDOU OP SOLOMON PARAPHRASED. 405
My pen frill scarce hold ink to write these noes,
These woes, tlie bloitc J inky lines of sin ;
My paper wrinkles at my sorrow's shows,
And like that land will bring no harvest in :
Had Lot's unfaithful wife been without fault,
My fresh-ink'd pen had never call'd her salt.
But now my quill, the tell-tale of all moans, t
Is savoury bent to aggravate salt tears.
And wets my paper with aalt-water groans,
Making me stick in agonising fears :
My paper now is grown to billows' might ;
Sometimes I stay ray pen, sometimes I write.
0 foolish pilot I, blind-heatted guide,
Can I not see the cliAs," hut rent my bark !
Must I needs hoist up sails 'gainst wind and tide,
And leave my soul behind, my wisdom's ark 1
Well may I be the glass of my disgrace,
And set my sin in other sinners' place.
But why despair I ? here comes wisdom's grace, i
Whose hope doth lead me unto better haj;
e presence doth din
Because I serve her as
Like Cain I shall be resti
From shipwreck's peril ti
:t my fore-ri
ny beauty's map :
''d to heaven,
a quiet haven.
When that by Cain's hgnd Abel was slain, 1
His brother Abel, brother to his ire,
Then Cain fled, to fly destruction's pain,
God's heavy wrath, against his blood's desire;
But being fetcht again by wisdom's power,
Had pardon for his deed, love for his lour.
' difu} i. e. cMb.
406 THK wuDOH 01 lOLomit rAa-ArBSAiSB.
By his repentance be remission bad,
And rel&Kation from the clog of lin ;
Hia painful labour labour's riches made,
Hii labouring pain did pleasure's profit win :
*Twas wisdom, wisdom made him to repent.
And newly plac'd him in his old content.
His body, which was once destruction's care.
Black murder's territory, mischief's house.
By her these wicked sins were made his slare.
And she became his bride, his wife, his spotue ;
Enriching him which was too rich before,
Too rich in sice, in happiness loo poor.
M^fera, which did rule within his breast, IS
And kept foul Lema's fea within his mind,
Both now displease him which once pleaa'd him
best.
Now murdering murder with his being kind :
These which were once his friends are now hi« Ibes.
Whose practice he retorts with wisdom's blows.
Yet still lie they in ambush for his soul.
But he, tnore wiser, keeps a wiser way ;
They see him, and they bark, snarl, grin, and
But wisdom guides his steps, he cannot stray;
By whom he conquers, and through whom he knows
The fear of God is stronger than his foes.
When man was clad in vice's livery, 13
And sold as bondman unto sin's canunand.
She, she forsook him not for infamy.
But freed him from his heart's imprisoo'd band;
And when he lay in dungeon of despite.
She interlin'd his grief with her delight.
THB VISDOK OF EOLOMOK PARAPHRASED. 407
Though servile she with him, she was content; H
The prison was her lodge as well as his,
Till she the sceptre of the world had lent,
To glad his fortune, to augment his bliss ;
To punish false accusers of true deeds.
And raise in him immortal glory's seeds.
e call her wisdom, by her name, 15
t a nominating style,
t worth lo make
F-old hierarchy from honour's file ?
Say, shall we file out fame for virtue's store,
And give a name not thought nor heard before ?
Then should we make her two, where now but one.
Then should we make her common to each
Wisdom shall be her
If alter old for new
Call her still wisdom.
Our lives' deliverer from
i, she wise alone ;
do old wrong ;
ontrols.
To make that better which is best of all.
Were to disarm the title of the power.
And think to make a raise, and make a fall.
Turn best to worst, a day unto an hour;
To give two sundry names unto one thing,
Makes it more commoner in echo's sting.
She guides man's soul, let her be call'd a queen i
She enters into man, call her a sprite ;
She makes them godly which have never been ;
Call her herself, the image of her might :
Those which for virtue plead, she prompts iheii
tongue,
Whose suit no tyrant nor no king can wrong.
408 THK WISDOU OF SOLOMOK FAKAPBSAaiD.
She stands as b&r between tlieir mouth and them ; 17
She prompts ilicir thoughts, their thoughts prompt"
speech's sound ;
Their tongue's reward is honour's diadem,
Their labour's hire with doest merit crown'd;
She is as judge and witness of each heart,
Condemning falsehood, taking virtue's p&rt,
A shadow in the day, star in the night ;
A shadow for to shade them from the Btii^ '
A star in darkness for to give them light,
A shade in dny, a star when day is done ;
Keeping both courses true in being true,
A shade, a star, to shade and lighten you.
And had she not, the sun's hot-burning fire IS
Had scorch 'd the inward palace of your powers.
Your hot affection cool'd your hot desire ;
Two heals once met make cool-distilling showers;
So likewise had not wisdom been your star,
You had been prisoner unto Phoebe's car.
She made the Red Sea subject to your craves, 19
The surges calms, the billows smoothest ways ;
She made rough winds sleep silent in their cares,
And i£ol watch, whom all the winds obeys ;
Their foes, pursuing them with death and dooin,
Did make the sea their church, the waves their tomb.
They furrow'd up a grave to lie therein, 20
Burying themselves with their own bandjr deed ;
Sin digg'd a pit itself to bury sin.
Seed ploughed up the ground to scatter seed :
The righteous, seeing this same sudden fall.
Did praise the Lord, and seiat'd upon them all.
" prompl} Old ed. " prompts."
THE WISDOU OF SOLOMON PARAPHRASED. 409
A glorious prize, though from inglorious hands,
A worthy spoil, though from unworthy heai
Toss'd with the ocean's rage upon the sands.
Victorious gain, gained by wisdom's arts.
Which makes the dumb to speak, the blind to
The deaf to hear, the babes have gravity.
I
I
What he could have a heart, what heart a thought, 1
What thought a tongue, what tongue a shew of
Having his ship hallass'd with such a fraught.
Which calms the ever-weeping ocean's tears.
Which prospers every enterprise of war,
And leads their fortune by good fortune's star ?
A pilot on the seas, guide on the land, 3, H
Through uncouth, desolate, untrodden way,
Through wilderness of woe, which in woes stand.
Pitching their tents where desolation lay ;
In just revenge encountering with their foes.
Annexing wrath to wrath, and blows to blows.
But when the heat of overmuch alarms 4
Had made their bodies subject unto thirst,
And hroil'd their hearts in wrath -"'allaying harms,
With fiery surges which from body burst.
That time had made the total sum of life,
Had not affection strove to end the strife.
Wisdom, affect ionating power of zeal.
Did cool the passion of tormenting heat
With water from a rocii, which did reveal
Her dear, dear love, plac'd in affection's seat ;
She was their mother twice, she nurs'd them twice.
Mingling their heat with cold, their fiie with tec.
" uratli-] Old ed. " wrailn-,"
410 THE WISDOM OF BOLOUOK PAUPHBAUBi.
From whence receiv'd tbey life, front a
From whence Tcceiv'd they speech, from «
As if all pleasure did proceed from moan.
Or all discretion from a lenaeless block ;
For wIibE was each but silent, dead, and muteg
As if a thorny thistle should bear fruit.
Tis stiange how that should cure which erst dij
Give life in whom destruction is enshrm'd ;
Alas, the stone ia dead, and haih no skill !
Wisdom gave life and love, 'twas wisdom's mind ;
She made the store which poison^ her foes,
Give life, give cure, give remedy to those.
Blood-quafHng Mars, which wash'd himself in gore.fl
Reign'd in her foes' thirst slaughter-drinking
Their heads the bloody store-house of blood's store,
Their minds made bloody streams disburs'd in
Whatv
To pri,
part!
: it else but butchery and hate,
' young infants' blood at murder's ratef
But let ttiera surfeit on their bloody cup.
Carousing to their own destruction's hesld|,j
We drink the silver-streamed water up,
Which unexpected flow'd from wisdom's ■
Declaring, by the thirst of our dry souls.
How all our foes did swim in murder's bowls
What greater ill than famine ? or what ill
Can be compart to the lire of thirst?
One be as both, for both the body kill,
And first brings torments in tormenting 6rst;
Famine is death itself, and thirst no less,
If bread and water do not yield ledress.
I
I
Yot ihis affliction is but virtue's trial,
ProceedJDg from the mercy of God's ire ;
To see if it can find his truth's denial,
Hisjudgment'sbrcach.attenipts contempt's desire:
But O, the wicked sleeping in misdeed,
Had death on whom tliey fed, on whom they feed !
Adjudg'd, condemn'd, and punish 'd in one breath, 9
Arraign'd, tormented, tortiir'd in one Ian ;
Adjudg'd like captives with destruction's wreath,
Arraign'd like thieves before the bar of awe;
Condemn'd, tormented, tortur'd, punished.
Like captives bold, thieves unastonished.
Say God did suffer famine for to reign.
And thirst to rule amongst the choicest heart.
Yet, father-like, he eas'd them of their pain,
And prov'd them how they could endure a smart ;
But, as a righteous king, condemn'd the others,
As wicked sons unto as wicked mothers.
For where the devil reigns, there, sure, is hell ; lO
Because the tabernacle of his name,
His mansion-house, the place where he doth dwell.
The coal-black visage of his nigrum" fame;
So, if the wicked live upon the earth,
Earlh is their hell, from good to worser birth.
If present, they are present to their tears;
If absent, they are present to their woes;
Like as the snail, which shews all that she bears,
Making her back the mountain of her shews:
Present to their death, not absent lo their care,
Theit punishment alike where'er they are.
* nigrum} This word, the meaning of which i:
■ccun in tlie " Defiance lo Envy " prefixed to llie i
□ this to). :
" My nigntm Icue-boTD ink," Sic,
412 TUB WISDOM OF SOLOMON PABAPHRASBB.
Why, «ay they
wail'd,
And fed lamen
Say, bow can sor
Whent
n'd, lamented, griev'd, and
11
e witb lament {
TOW be TCith sorrow bail'd,
iBumetlithatwhichamilesbsthlait!
This makes a double prison, double chain,
A double mourning, and a double pain.
Captivity, hoping for freedom's lisp.
At length doth pay the ransom of her hope,^
Yet frees her thougbt from any clogging clap,
Though back be almost burst' with iron's cope;
So they endur'd the more, because tbey knew
Thai never till the spring the flowers grew ;
And that by patience cometh heart's delight, 13
Long-sought- for bliss, long-fnr-fetT hsppioesa;
Content they were to die for virtue's right,
Sith'Joy should be the pledge of heaviness:
When unexpected things were brought to pass.
They were atnaz'd, and wonder'd where God was.
He whom they did deny, now they extol j
He whom they do extol, they did deny ;
He whom they aid deride, they do enroll
In register of heavenly majesty :
Their thirst was ever thirst, repentance slopt it'
Their life was ever dead, repentance propt it.
And had it not, their thirst had burn'd tiieir
hearts, IS
Their hearts bad cried out for their tongues' reply.
Their tongues had raised all their bodies' parts.
Their bodies, once in arms, had made all die:
Their foolish practices had made them wise.
Wise in their hearts, though foolish in their eyes.
* burit'i i. c. broken. ' M-f"'] i. »■ UtUteLti.
' Sllh] i. e. liace.
SOLOMON PARAPHRASED. 413
But they, alas ! n'ere dead, to worship death.
Senseless in worshipping all shadon'd shows,
Breathless in wasting of so vain a breath,
Dumb in performance of their tongues' suppose:
They in adoring death, in death's behests,
Were punished with life and living beasts.
Thus for a shew of beasts they substance have, 14
The thing itself against the shadow's will.
Which makes the shadows, sad woes in life's
grave,
As nought impossible in heaven's skill:
God sent sad Ohs for shadows of lament,
Lions and bears in multitudes he sent:
Newly created beasts, which sight ne'er saw, 15
Unknown, which neither eye nor ear did know.
To breathe out blasts of fire against their law,
And cast out smoke with a tempestuous blow ;
Making their eyes the chambers of their fears,
Darting forth fire as lightning from the spheres.
Thus marching one by one, and side by side, 16
By the profane, ill-limn'd, pale spectacles,
Making both Arc and fear to be their guide,
Pull'd down their vain-adoring chronicles ;
Then staring in their faces, spic forth fire.
Which heats and cools their frosty-hot desire :
Frosty in fear, unfrosty in their shame.
Cool in lament, hot in their power's disgraces ;
Like lukewarm coals, half kindled with the flame,
Sate white and red mustering within their faces :
The beasts themselves did not so much dismay
As did their ugly eyes' aspects decay them.
414 THE WIIDOM OP SOLOUOIf rASAPHSASta,^
Yet wliat are beasts, but subiectB u
By the decree of heaven, degree
They have more strength than he, yet more he can,
He having reason's store, they reason's dearth ;
But these were made to break subjectiou's rod.
And shew the stubbornness of man to God.
Had iliey not been ordain'd to such intent,
God's word was able to supplant their powers.
And root out them which were to mischief bent.
Willi wrath and vengeance, minutes in death'*
hours ;
Btit God doth keep a full, direct, true course.
And measures pity's love with mercy's force.
The wicked think* God hath no might i
Because he makes no show of what hi
When God is loaih to give their pride a fall.
Or cloud the day wherein ihey do amiss;
But should his strength he shewn, hii anger
Who could withstand the sun-caves of his eyea
Alas, what is the world against his ire! IG
As snowy mountaini 'gainst the golden sun,
Forc'd for to melt and thaw with frosty fire.
Fire hid in frost, though frost of cold begun :
As dew-distilling drops fall from the morn,
So n[e]w destruction's claps fall from his scorn.
But his revenge lies smother'd in his smiles, 20
His wrath lies sleeping in his mercy's joy.
Which very seldom rise at mischiers coils,
And will not wake for every sinner's toy :
Boundless his mercies are, like heaven's grounds,
They have no limits they, nor hcRven no bounds.
■ (WbA] Old ed, •' ihiokes."
rat I
e prom on lory -top of his true love
Is like the end of ne?et-ending sirea
Like Nilus' watcr-springa, which inward move,
And have no outward shew of shadows' beams ■
God Bees, and wilt not see, the sing of men.
Because they should amend : amend ! O when ?
The mother loves the issues of her womb, 21
As doth the father his hegoiten son ;
She makes her lap their quiet-sleeping tomb.
He seeks to care for hfe which new begun :
What care hath He, think, then, that cares for all,
For ag^d and for young, for great and small !
Is not that father careful, fiU'd with care,
Loving, long-EufTering, merciful, and kind.
Which made with love all things that in love are,
Unmerciful to none, to none unkind?
Had man been hateful, man had never been.
But perish'd in the spring-time of his green.
But how can hate abide where I
Or how can anger follow mercy's path 1
How can unkindness hinder kindness' gains 1
Or how can murder bathe in pity's bath?
Love, mercy, kindness, pity, either'g mate.
Do*" scorn unkindness, anger, murder, hate.
Had it not been thy will to make the earth, 2
It still had been a chaos unto time ;
But 'twas thy will that man should have a birth,
And be preserv'd by good, condemn'd by crime
Yet pity reigns within thy mercies' store,
Thou Bpar'st and lov'ai us all ; what would w
mgre?
" 0=] Old ed. " Doib,"
CvAt. SIl.
When all the clenientB of mortal life
Were placed in the mansion of their akin,
Each having daily motion to bo rife,''
Clos'd in ihat body which dolh close them in,
God sent his holy Spirit unto man,
Which did begin when first the world began :
So that the body, which was king of all, 2
1b subject unto that which now is king.
Which chBBteneth those whom mischief doth exhale,
Unto miadecds from whence destructions sprinjf :
Yet merciful it is, though it be chief.
Converting vice lo good, sin to belief.
Old time is often lost in being bald.
Bald, because old, old, because living longfl
It is rejected oft when it ia call'd ;
And wears out age with age, still being young :
Twice children we, twice feeble, and once strong;
But being old, we sin, and do youth wrong.
The more we grow in age, the more in vice,
A house-room long unswept will gather dust ;
Our long-unthawM souls will freeze to ice.
And wear the badge of long-imprison'd rin
So those inhabitants in youth twice born,
Were old in sin, more old in heaven's acorn.
Committing worlre as inky spots of fame,
Commencing words like foaming vice's waves,
Committing and commencing mischiers name,
With works and words sworn to be vice's slaves ;
As sorcery, witchcraft, mischievous deeds,
And sacrifice, which wicked fancies feeds.
Ici
417
Well tnay 1 call that wicked nhich is more, 5
1 rather would be low than be too high ;
O wondrous practisera, cloth'd all in gore,
To end that life which their own lives did buy!
More than swine-like eating man's bowels up,
Their banquet's dish, their blood their banquet's cup.
Butchers unnatural, worse by their trade, 6
Whose house the bloody shambles of decay,
More than a slaughter-house which butchers made,
More than an Eitchip,'^ secly* bodies prey ;
Thorough whose hearts a bloody shambles runs ;
They do not butcher beasts, but their own sons.
Chief murderers of their souls, which their souls
bought ; 7
Extinguishers of light, which tlieir lives gave ;
More than knife-butchers they, butchers in Uioiight,
Sextons to dig their own-begotten grave;
Making their habitations old in sin,
Which God doth reconcile, and new begin.
That murdering place was turn'd into delight, 8
That bloody slaughter-house to peace's breast,
That lawless palace to a place of right.
That slaughtering shambles to a living rest;
Made meet for justice, fit for happiness.
Unmeet for sin, unlit for wickedness.
Yet the inhabitants, though mischief's slaves, 9
Werenotdead-drench'dintheirdestruction's flood;
God hop'd to raise repentance from sins' graves,
Andhop'dthatpain's delay would make them good;
Not that he was unable to subdue them, .
But that their sins' repentance should renew them.
' Eichip] A familiar corruption of Eati-chcap, vbere, as
SiDiv says. Ku ■ " fieili-miiriiei of butcbera."
" leeiji] See note, p. 392.
WattOK or ROLOMOX PARAPURjUU
Delay is look for viriue and for vice ;
Delay is gnoil, and yet delay is bad ;
'Tis virtue when it thaws repentance' ic
'Tis vice lo put ofT things we have or had ; I
But here it foilowelh repentance' way, r
Therefore it is not sin's nor mischief's prey, j
Delay in punishment is double pain.
And every pain makes a twice-double ltion|
Doubling the way lo our lives' better gain,
Doubling repentance, which is single bought;
For fruitless gratis, when they are too much lopt.
More fruitless arc, for why their fruits are s
So fares it with the wicked plants of sin,
The roots of mischief, tops of villany;
They worser are with too much punishing.
Because by nature prone to injury ;
For 'tis hut folly to supplant his thought
Whose heart is wholly given to be naught.
These seeded were in seed, O cursed plaai !
Seeded with other seed, O cursed root !
Too much of good doth turn unto goo
As too much seed doth turn to too much ■
Bitler in taste, presuming of their height,
Like misty vapours in hlack-colour'd night.
But God, whose powerful arms one strength doth
hold, IS
Scorning to stain his force upon their faces.
Will send his mcssengeTS, both hot and cold.
To make them shadows of their own disgraces:
His hot ambassador is fire, his cold
Is wind, which two acorn for to be controll'd
THE WISDOM OF SOtOMON PAHAPHRASED. 419
For who dares say unto the King of kings.
What )iasC thou done, which ought to be undone ?
Or who dares stand against thy judgment's stings?
Or dare accuse thee for the nation's moan?
Or who dare say. Revenge this ill for me?
Or stand against the Lord with villany ?
What he hath done he knows ; what he will do 13
He weiglieth with the balance of his eyes ;
What judgment he pronounceth must be so,
And those which be oppresaeth cannot rise :
Revenge lies in his hands when he doth please ;
He can revenge and love, punish and ease.
The carved spectacle which workmen make
Is subject unto them, not they to it;
Tbey which from God a lively form do take.
Should much more yield unto their Maker's wit ;
Siih" there is none but he which hath his thought.
Caring for that which he hath made of nought.
The clay is subject to the potter's hands, 14
Which with a new device makes a new moul ;'
And what are we, I pray, but clayey bands,
With ashy body, join'd to cleaner soul?
Yet we, once made, acorn to be made again,
But live in sin, like clayey lumps of pain.
Yet if hot .inger smother cool delight,
He'll mould our bodies in destruction's form.
And make ourselves as subjects to his might.
In the least fuel of his anger's storm :
Not king nor tyrant dare ask or demand,
What punishment is this thou hast in hand ?
HE WUDOM OF SOLOKOK PARAPHSASBtl.
We all are captives to thy regal throne ;
Our [irison is the earth, our bands our ains.
Anil our accuser our own body's groan,
Press'd down with vice's weights and mischtefi
gins;
Before the bar of heaven we plead for favour.
To cleanse our sin-bespotted body's savour.
Thou righteous art, our pleading, then, it right ;
Thou merciful, we hope for mercy's grace;
Thou orderest every thing with look-on sight.
Behold us, prisoners in earth's wandering race;
We know thy pity is without a bound.
And sparest them which in some faults be found.
Thy power is as thyself, nithout an end,
Beginning all to end, yet ending nones
Son unto virtue's son, and nisdoro's friend.
Original of bliss to virtue shewn ;
Beginning good, which never ends in vice ;
Beginning flames, which nt
For righteousness is good i
It righteous is, 'tis good
A lamp it is, fed with disci
Begins in seed, but neve
By this we know the Lord
Which causeth him to spare
JuBt, because justice tveighs whet wisdom thinks; 17
Wise, because wisdom thinks what justice we^fas;
One virtue makeih two, and two more Hnka;
Wisdom is just, and justice never strays :
The help of one doih make the other better,
As is the want of one the other's letter.
he tries :
PAHAPHSASED. 421
But wisdom hath two properties in wit,
As justice hath two contraries in force ;
Heat added unto heat augmenteth it,
As too much water bursts a water- course ;
God's wisdom too much prov'd doth breedGod's hate,
God's justice too much mov'd breeds God's debate.
Although the ashy prison of fire -durst" 18
Doth keep tlie flaming heat imprison'd in.
Vet sometime will it burn, when flame it must,
And burst the ashy cave where it hath bin;'
So if God's mercy pass the bounds of mirth.
It is not mercy then, but mercy's dearth.
Yet how can love breed hate without hate's love?
God doth not hate to love, nor love to hate ;
His equity doth every action prove.
Smothering with love that spiteful envy's fate ;
For should the toani^ of anger trace his brow,
The very puffs of rage would drive the plough.
But God did end his toil when world begun; 19
Now like a lover studies how to please,
And win their hearts again whom mischief won,
Lodg'd in the mansion of their sin's disease:
He made each mortal man two ean, two eyes.
To hear and see ; yet he must make them wise.
If imitation should direct man's life,
'Tis life to imitate a living corse ;
The thing's example makes the thing more rife;''
God loving is, why do we want remorse ?'
' firt-liiril] Qy. "firE-diul"! ' ftin] i.e. been.
• Cram] Old ed. "(cine"— b word of commoti occurrpnce
in our earJicil poetry, but doubiless a miipritit here ; compin
p. 3<JE>, t. 4, and p. 430, I. 19 : and be it obserted, that id the
pKiuge last rcrerred to the old ed. bii " Iceme."
" rifr] Set oole, p. 358. ' riaerte'] i. e. pity.
VOL. V. 0 0
E WISDOM OF SOLOMON FAKAPHBAEED, '
If Bucli a boundless ocean of good deeds 20
Should have such influence from mercy's streira,
Kiising both good and ill, flowers and needs.
As doth the sunny flame of Titan's beam ;
A greater Tethys then should mercy be.
In flowing unio them which lovelh thee.
The sun, which shines in heaven, doth light the
earth, 21
The earth, which shinesin sin, doth spite the heaven;
Sin is earth's sun, the sun of heaven sin's dearth.
Both odd in light, being of height not even :
God's mercy then, which spares both good and ill,
Doth care for both, though not alike in will.
Can vice be v
r viriue's meat?
Her company is bad, hei
She shames to sit upon her betters' s(
As subject beasts wanting the lion'
Mercy is virtue's badge, foe to disdai
Virtue is vice's stop and mercy's gain
22
Yet God i:
More m.
ciful to mischief-floi
leth us, and punisheth o
ciful ii
4
Like sluggish drones amongst a labouring ani :
We hope for mercy si our bodies' doom j
We hope for heaven, the bail of earthly tomb.
What hope they for, what hope have they of
heaven ? 23
They hope for vice, and they have hope of hell.
Prom whence their souls' eternity is given,
But such eternity which pains can tell:
They live; but better were it for lo die,
Immortal in their pain and misery.
Hath hell such freedom to devour aouls ?
Are souls so bold to rush in such a place ?
God gives hell power of vice, which hell controls;
Vice makes her followers bold with armed face ;
God tortures both, the mistress and the n
And ends in pain that which in vice began.
A bad beginning makes a worser end, 24
Without repentance meet the middle way,
Making a mediocrity their friend.
Which else would be their foe, because they stray :
But if repentance miss the middle line.
The sun of virtue ends in west's decline.
So did it fare with these, which stray'd too far>
Beyond the measure of the mid'day'a eye,
In error's ways, led without virtue's star,
Esteeming beast-like powers for deity ;
Whose heart no thought of understanding meant.
Whose tongue no word of understanding sent:
Like infant babes, bearing their nature's shell '25
Upon the tender heads of tenderer wit.
Which tongue-tied are, having no tale to tell.
To drive away the childhood of their fit;
Unfit to tune their tongue with wisdom's string,
Too fit to quench their thirst in folly's spring.
But they were trees to babes, bahes sprigs to them,
They not so good as these, in being nought ;
In being nought, the more from vice's stem.
Whose essence cannot come without a thought:
To punish them is punishment in season,
They children-like, without or wit or reason.
424
E WISDOM OF SOLOUON PABAPKKASEI
To be derided is to be half-dead.
Derision bears a pari 'tween tiTc and deal
Shame follows her with misery half-fed,
Half-breathing life, to make half-life and breaili :
Yet here was mercy ihewn, their deeds were more
Than could be nip'd off by derision's score.
This mercy is the warning of misdeeds,
A trurnpet summoning to virtue's wrIIs,
To notify their hearts which mischief feeds,
Whom vice instructs, whom wickedness exhales:
But if derision cannot murder sin.
Then shame shall end, and punishment begin.
For many shameless are, bold, sloul in ill ; 2T
Then how can shame take rooi in shameless plants.
When they their brows with shameless furrows fill,
And plough' each place which one plough-furrow
wants?
Then being arm'd 'gainst shame with shameless face,
How can derision take a shameful place?
But punishment may smooth their wrinkled brow.
And set shame on llie forehead of their rage.
Guiding the fore-front of that shameless row,
Making it smooih in shame, though not iuA
Then will they say that God is Just and trucM
But 'tis too late, damnation will enau
Chap. XIII.
The branch must needs be weak, if root be so, 1 '
The root must needs be weak, if branches fall ;
Nature is vain, man cannot be her foe.
Because from nature and at nature's call:
Nature is vain, and we proceed from nature,
Vain therefore is our birth, and vain our feature.
I p/Mfff'O Old ed. " plows.'
I
One body may have two disi
Not being two, it may be join'd to two ;
Nature is one itself, yet two and more.
Vain, ignorant of God. of good, of show.
Which not regards the things which God hath
And what things are to do, what new begun.
>e, when 'tia the leaves ? 3
for her mortal men ?
she, 'tis she that weaves,
pen:
Why do I blame the
Why blame I natu
Why blame I men ?
That weaves, that wafts unto destructi
Then, being blameful both, because both
I leave to both their vanity's due pain.
To priKe the shadow at the substance' rate,
Is a vain substance of a shadow's hue;
To think the son lo be the father's mate.
Earth to rule earth because of earthly view ;
To think fire, wind, air, stars, water, and heaven.
To be as gods, from whom their selves arc given :
Fire as a god ? O irreligious sound ! 3
Wind 83 a god ? O vain, O vainest voice !
Air as a god ? when 'tis but dusky ground ;
Star as a goti ? when 'tis but Phoebe's choice ;
Water a god ? which first by God was made ;
Heaven a god? which first by God was laid.
Say all hath beauty, excellence, array.
Yet beautified they are, they were, they be.
By God's bright excellence of brightest day.
Which first implanted our first beauty's tree :
If then the painted outside of the show
Be radiant, what is the inward row t
niE WISDOM OF
PAEAPRftAank.
If iliat ilie sfiadnw of tlip body's akin 4
Be so illumin'd with (lie lun-shin'd sodI,
What is tlie ihin;^ iiselT vflilch i.t within,
More wrench'd.^more cleani'd, more purified from
foul?
If etetnental powers have God's thought.
Say what is God, which made thetn ^ of bi
It is a wonder for to sec the sky,
And operation of each airy power;
A marvel that the heaven should be so high.
And let fall such a low-disiilhng shower:
Then needs must He be high, higher than all.
Which made both high and low with one tongue's call.
The workman mightier is than his hand-work, .'i
In making that which else would be unmade;
The ne'er-ihoughi thing doth always hidden lurk.
Without the maker in a making trade:
For had not God made man, man had not beent
But nature had decay 'd, and ne'er been seen.
The workman never shewing of his skill
Doth live unknown to man, though known d
Had mortal birth been never in God's will,
God had been God, but yet unknown in it;
Then having made the glory of earth's beaucy,
'Tia reason earth should reverence him in duty.
The savage people have a supreme head,
A king, though savage as his subjects are
Vet they with his observances are led.
Obeying his behests, whate'er they were :
The Turks, the Infidels, all have a lord,
Whom they observe in thought, in deed, in word.
'' iiTCBp/i'i(] i. e. perhaps, ringed.
r!
And shall we, differing from their savage kind,
Having a soul to live and to believe.
Be rude in thought, in deed, in word, in mind,
Not seeking him which should our woea relieve?
O no, dear brethren! seek our God, our fame,
Tlien if we err, we shall have lesser blame.
How can we err 1 we seek for ready way ; 7
O that my tons^ue could feicli that word again!
Whose very accent makes me go astray.
Breathing that erring wind into my brain :
My word is past, and cannot be recall'd ;
It is like aged time, ntfw waxen bald.
For they which go astray in seeking God
Do miss the joyful narrow-fooled path —
Joyful, thrice-joyful way to his abode I —
Nought seeing but their shadows in a bath ;
Narcisstis-like, pining to see a show.
Hindering the passage which their feet should go.
Narcissus fantasy did die to kiss, 8
O sugar'd kiss I died wiiU a poison'd lip ;
The fantasies of these do die to miss,
O tossdd fantasies in folly's ship!
He died to kiss the shadow of his face ;
These live and die to life's and death's disgrace.
A fault without amends, crime without ease, 9
A sin without excuse, death without aid ;
To love the world, and what the world did please,
To know the earth, wherein their sins are laid :
They knew the world, but not the Lord that fram'd
it;
They knew the earth, but not the Lord that nam'd
WISDOU OF SOLOMON FAttAPHttASED.
Narciaaug ilrown'd Iitm self for his self's show, 10
Striving (o heal himself did himself harm;
These drotrn'd themselves on earth with their selres'
He in a water-brook by fury's charm ;
They made dry earth wet with their folly's weeping.
He made wet earth dry with his fury's sleeping.
Then leave him to hia sleep; return to those
Which ever wake in misery's conaiTainls,
Whose eyes are hollow caves and made sleep's foes,
Two dungeons dark with sin, blind wiih com-
plafnt. :
They called images which man first found
Immortal gods, for which their tongues are bound.
11
Gold was a god with them, a golden god ;
Like children in a pageant of gay loys.
Adoring images for saints' abode ;
O vain, vain spectacles of vainer joy i !
Putting their hope in blocks, their trust in 8'
Hoping to trust, trusting to hope in moans.
As when a carpenter cuts down a tree.
Meet for to make a vessel for man's use.
He parcth all the bark most cunningly
With the sharp shaver of his knife's abus^ 1
Kipping the seely-l womb with no entreat, T
Making her woundy chips to dress his meat:
Her body's bones are oden tough and hard, 13
Crooked with age's growth, growing with crooks.
And full of weather-chinks, which seasons marr'd,
Knobby and rugged, bending in like hooks|.>
Yet knowing age can never want a fault,
"^ ' with a sharp knife's assault ;
1 iffly] See note, p. 392.
1
FABArHitAS£i>. 429
And carves it well, though it be self-like ill, 14
Observing leisure, keeping time and place;
According to the cunning of his ekill,
Making the figure of a mortal face.
Or like some ugly beast in ruddy mould.
Hiding each cranny nith a painter's fold.
It is a world to see," to mark, to view, 15
How age can botch up age with crooked thread ;
How hiB old hands can make an old tree new,
And dead-likt; he can make another dead!
Yet makes a substantive able to bear it,
And she an adjective, nor sec nor hear it.
A wall it is itself, yet wall with wall 16
Hath great supportance, bearing either part ;
The image, like an adjective, would fall,
Were it not closed with an iron heart :
The workman, being old himself, doth know
What great infirmities old age can shew.
Therefore, to stop the river of extremes, 17
He burst into the flowing of his wit.
Tossing his brains with more than thousand themes.
To have a wooden stratagem so lit :
Wooden, because it doth belong to wood ;
His purpose may be wise, his reason good :
His purpose wise 1 no, foolish, fond,' and vain ;
His reason good? no, wicked, vild,™ and ill ;
To be the author of his own life's pain.
To be the tragic actor of his will ;
Praying to that which he before had fram'd.
For welcome faculties, and not asbam'd.
430 THE WIBSOU OF BOLOUON PAKAFHKASED.
C&lling to folly for discretion's sense.
Calling I9 sickness for sick body's health,
Calling 10 weakness for a stronger fence,
Calling to poverty for better tvealth ;
Praying to death for life, for this he pray'd,
Requiring help of that nhicb nanteth aid ;
Desiring that of it which he not had, 19
And for his journey ihal which cannot go;
And for Ills gain her furtherance, to make glad
The work which he doth take in hand to do:
These windy words do rush against the wall ;
She cannot speak, 'twill sooner make her fall.
Ch*f. XIV.
As doth one little spnrk make a great flame, I
Kindled from forth the hoaora of the flint;
Ab doih one plague infei't with it self name.
With watery humours making bodies' dint;
So, even so, this idol- worshipper
Doth make another idoUpractiser.
The shi|>man cannot team danic Teihys' navea
Within a wind-taught capering anchorage.
Before he prostrate lies, and suflTrage craves,
And hove a block to be his fortune's gage :
More crooked than his stem, yet he implores her ;
More rotten than his ship, yet he adores her.
Who made this form 7 he thai ivas form'd and made ;
'Twas avarice, 'twas she thai found it out ; 2, S
She made her craftsman crafty in his trade,
He cunning was in bringing it about;
O, had he made the painted show to s|>eak,
It would have call'd him vain, herself to wreak 1
1
would have made him blush alive, though he
Did dye her colour with a deadly blush ;
TBE WISDOU OF EOLOUON PARAPHRASED. 431
Thy providence, O father I dolh decree
A BUre, sure way amongst ll>e waves to rush ;
Thereby declaring that thy power is such,
That though a man were weak, thou canst do much.
What is one single bar to doubk' death ? 5
One death in cicatli, (he other death in Tear;
This single bar a board, a poor board's breath,"
Yet stops the passage ol'each Neptune's tear :
To see how many lives one board can have,
To see how many lives one board can save !
How was this board first made? by wisdom's art.
Which is not vain, but firm, not weak, but sure ;
Therefore do men commit their living heart
To planks which either life or death procure;
Cutting the storms in two, parting the wind,
Ploughing the sea till they their harbour find:
The sea, whose mountain-billows, passing bounds, 6
Rusheth upon the hollon-sided bark.
With rough-sent kisses from the water-grounds.
Raising a foaming heat with rage's spark :
\et sea nor naves can make the shipraan fear ;
He knows that die be must, he cares not where.
For had bin timorous heart been dy'd in W'bite,
And sent an echo of resembling woe,
Wisdom had been unknown in folly's night.
The sea had been a desolation's show ;
But one world, hope," lay hovering on the sea.
When one world's bap did end with one decay.
Yet Phccbus, drownM in the ocean's world,
Phoebe disgrsc'd with Tethys' billot
And Phtcbus' fiery-golden wreath uncurl'd,
Was sealed at the length in brightneuM
- fi.,oM] i.
bM^«*f* »-»..«■> 1 1 I il;
ttaa*«*i*bdiia *im tmmta
B* • aib *>^ •« ^'^ €i_l tad
an « man-, dr.
»>»-*>> ■rri-
lh_ ^»« *» II I V r«ik hack.
-£ta...^«ila^*
M^M«iB«S* ^i«k« I /ii III tack.-* P.4
^a^HaH«ft«fHB^«<«4fMia^iBmacWf toji -
■ dM ^ HH> if*a> irnH*^ Won [Ml riirfiii pi
i'HB WiaoOU OF SOLOUOK PAKAPHRABED. 433
Beliold tity downfal ready at thy hand,
Behold thy hopes wherein thy hazards stand!
0, spurn away that block out of thy way.
With virtue's appetite and wisdom's force !
That stumbling-block of folly and decay.
That snare which doth ensnare thy treading corse:
Behold, thy body falls ! let virtue bear it;
Behold, thy soul doth fall ! let wisdom rear it.
Say, art thou young or old, tree or a bud ? 1 1
Thy face is so disfigured with sin :
Young I do think thou art; in what? in good;
But old, 1 am assur'd, by wrinkled skin :
Thy lips, tliy tongue, thy heart, is young in praying,
But lips, and tongue, and heart, is old in straying :
Old in adoring idols, but too young
In the observance of divinest law ;
Young in adoring God, though old in tongue ;
Old and too old, young and too young in awe ;
Beginning that which doth begin misdeeds,
Inventing vice, which all thy body feeds.
But this corrupting and infecting food, 12
This calerpiilar of eternity.
The foe to bliss, the canker unto good,
The new-accuatom'd way of vanity,
It hath not ever been, nor shall it be,
But perish in the branch of folly's tree.
As her descent was vanity's alline,'' 13
So her descending like to ber descent ;
Here shall she have an end, in hell no fine.
Vain-glory brought her vainly to be spent :
You know all vanity draws to an end ;
Then needs must she decay, because her friend.
1 aUht] i. e. sllj.
t»»Jtfc I 1 I
16
n«M Win ■■ rayiw MB hiad IB Uoodjr umb;
THE WISDOM OF SOLOUON PARArUKASED. 433
Then to avoid llie doom of present hate,
Their absence did perform their presence' want,
Makin;; the image of a kingly state.
As if they had new seed from sin's old plant;
Flattering the absence of old mischiers mother
With the like form and presence of another :
Making an absence with a present sight, IT
Or rather presence with an absent view;
Deceiving vulgars with a day of night.
Which know not good from bad, nor false from
true;
A craftsman cunning in his crafty trade,.
Beguiling them with that which he had made.
Like as a vane is lurn'd wiili every blast,
Until it point unto the windy clime,
So stand the people at his word aghast,
He making old-new form in new-old time;
DeGes and deifies all with one breath,
Making them live and die, and all in death.
They, like to Tantalus, are fed with shows, 18
Shoivs which exasperate, and cannot cure ;
They see the painted shadow of suppose,
They see her sight, yet what doth sight procure 1
Like Tantalus they feed, and yet they starve ;
Their food is carv'd to thetn, yet hard to carve.
The crailsman feeds them with a starving meat
Which doth not All, but empty, hunger's gape;
He makes the idol comely, fair, and great.
With well-limn'd visage and best-fashion'd shape.
Meaning to give it to some noble vieiv.
And feign his beauty with that flattering hue.
43C
E WtBDOU o; SOLOMOM PAHArUKASED.
Enamour'd nith tbe sight, the people grew
To divers appAritJons of delight ;
Some did admire the portraituTe so new,
Hew'd from the Btandard of an old tree's height ;
Some were allur'd through beauty of ihe face,
With outward eye to work tbe soul's disgrace :
Adored like a god, though made by man ; ^|
To make a god of man, a man of god, ^|
'Tie more than human life or could or can, ^1
Though multitudes' applause in error trode :
1 never knew, since mortal lives abod.
That man could make a man, much less a god.
Ves, rnan can make his shame without a maker, SO
Borrowing the essence from restorM sin ;
Man can be virtue's foe and vice's taker.
Welcome himself without a welcome in :
Can he do this T yea, more ; O shameless ill !
Shameful in shame, thamelcss in wisdom's will.
The river of bis vice can have no bound.
But breaks into the ocean of deceit ;
Deceiving life with measures of dead ground,
With carved idols, disputation's bait;
Making captivity, clotb'd all in moan,
Be subject to a god made of a stone.
Too stony hearts had they which made
law ; HI
O, had ihey been as stony as the name.
They never had brought vulgars in such awe,
To be destruction's prey and mischief's game I
Had they been atone-dead both in look and favour,
They never had made life of such a savour.
I
WtaHOM OF SOLOUON PARAPHRASED. 437
Yet was not this a too-sufBcient doom,
Sent TrGm the root of their sin-o'ergrown tongue,
To cloud God's knowledge with heil- mischief's
To overthrow truth's right with falsehood's wrong :
But daily practised a perfect way,
Still to begin, and never end to atray.
For either murder's paw did gripe their hearts, 22
With whispering horrors drumming in each ear.
Or other villaniea did play their parts,
Augmenting horror to new-strucken fear ;
Making their hands more than a sb arables' stall,
To slay their children ceremonial.
No place was free from stain of blood or vice ; 23
Their life was niark'd for death, their soul for sin,
Marriage for fornication's thawed ice,
Thought for despair, body for either's gin :
Slaughter did either end what life begun.
Or lust did end what both had left undone.
The one was sure, although the other fail, 21
For vice hath more competitors than one ;
A greater iroop doth evermore avail.
And villany is never found alone :
The blood-hound follows that which slaughter kill'd,
And thet^ doth follow what deceit hath spill'd/
Corruption, mate to in^delity, 2r>
For that which is unfaithful is corrupt ;
Tumults are schoolfellows to perjury,
For both are full when either one hath supt ;
Unthankfulness, defiling, and disorders.
Are fornication's and uncleanness' borders.
' ifdU'il] i. e. dcatrayed.
ItrriYV^fMH-i MM.-; pn-s finl iMwA.
" * ' * ' ofdespur;
■h»( jroa were.
^|fa«, looik ^on the qpcctade of ibaune, 28
TW wcII-GaB'd inage of as 31-lunn'd thouglit;
gs^are jm woftbj bow oT praise or bUioe,
Yob wme fceart-iic^ before I lei yon blood,
Bat now heait-w^ liocc I have dooe you good.
THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON FARAPHKABED. 439
Now wipe blind folly from your seeing eyes.
And drive destruction from your happy mind;
lot foolish- wise,
B, not mischief blind ;
I idols, they deceiv'd you ;
a God, and he r ' ' '
Your folly n
Destruction happin«
You put your ti
You put your li
a you.
Had not repentance grounded on your souls, 2£
The climes of good or ill, virtue or nice,
Had it not flow'd into the tongue's enrolls.
Ascribing mischief's hate with good advice ;
Your tongue had spill'd' your soul, your soul youi
tongue.
Wronging each function with a double wrong.
t attempt was placed in a show,
ary show, without a deed;
attempt was perjury, the foe
Your fin
Imagi.
The nex
,Toju>
1 wo sins, two punishments, and one in two,
Make' two in one, and more than one can do:
Four scourges from one pain, all comes from sin ; 30
Single, yet double, double, yet in four ;
It slays the soul, it hems the body in,
It spills the mind, it doth the heart devour ;
Gnawing upon the thoughts, feeding on blood,
For why she lives in sin, but dies in good.
She taught their souls to stray, their tongues to
Their thought to think amiss, their life to die.
Their heart to err, their mischief to appear.
Their head to sin, their feet to tread awry :
This scene might well have been destruction's tent,
To pay with pain what sin with joy hath spent.
• ipill'd'] i. e. dotlrojed. ' Sfaki] Old ed. " Jlakes."
■ IwMg al-my yaMig,
not uviBg n^Hf BOf €Ter oncno^ piuu^-
So this is tBoderator of God'i ra^,
Psrdouig lliow deed* wtiidi «« in
ThM if wc sin. At ia ear bttAom't ^^e.
And wc KiD ibine, ilxHigfa Is be thnw mfil :
In Mng ifame, O Liinl, we wUI not sin.
That wc tfay palirace. gntx, uid tnttb, nay win I
O gnnt us patience, in nhose graot we rest, 3
To right our wroDg. and aat to wroog the right !
Give ua thjr grace, O Lord, to make us blest,
That erace might bleta, and blits might grace our
»igh[ !
Make our beginning and our «e(]uel truth,
To make us young in age, and grave in youth !
i
THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON P
We know that our demands rest in thy will ;
Our will rests in thy word, our word in thee ;
Thou in our orisons, which dost fultil
That wished action which we wish to be ;
'Tis perfect righteousness to know thee right,
'Tis immortality to know thy might.
In knowing thee, we know both good and ill, 4
Good to know good and ill, ill to know
none;
In knowing all, we know thy sacred will.
And what to do, and what to leave undone:
We are deceiv'd, not knowing to deceive;
In knowing good and ill, we lake and leave.
The glass of vanity, deceit, and shows, 5
The painter's labour, the beguiling face.
The diver s-colour'd image of suppose.
Cannot deceive the substance of thy grace ;
Only a snare to those of common wit.
Which covets to be like, in having it.
The greedy lucre of a witless brain, 6
This feeding avarice on senseless mind,
Is rather hurt than good, a loss than gain.
Which covets for lo lose, and not to 6nd ;
So they were coloured witli such a face.
They would not care to lake the idol's place.
Then be your thoughts coherent to your words,
Your words as correspondent to your thought ;
'Tis reason you should have what love affords,
And trust in that which love so dearly bought:
The maker must needs love what he hath made.
And the desirer's free of either trade.
44S rHE wiiDoii at cntoHox PAKAraxAsut.
Mbo, ihoa waat Bade ; krt thou a maker now t 7
Yea, 'm thj trnde. for ckon a pouer art,
Tmniiiiiiig aoft canfa, wkiag the day lo boir ;
B« dBfCT ilxNi doU bear too ■tout a beari :
Tbe dav ia ntiiriilB U thjr ngoroas hands ;
Thoa cuy too loagh agaiaat thy God's comautnds.
If tboa waDi'n slnne, behoU ihy slimy faulta ;
If thou want'R day, bcboM thy dayey breast;
Make ibem to be the deepen centre's vaults.
And tet all clayey raoontains alcep in rest :
Tboa beai'H an earthly monntam on thy back.
Thy heart's duef prison^hoote, thy soul's chid
mack.
Art tliou a tnottal man, and mak'st a god ?
A god of cUy, thon but a man of clay ?
0 mids of miacbief, tn destruciioo sod!
0 rainest labour, in a vainer pUy !
Man is the greatest work which God did lake,
And yet a god with man it Dought to make.
He that was made of earth would make a heaven,
If heaven may be made upon the earth ;
Sin's heirs, the airs, sin's planu, the plauels seveo,
Their god a clod, his birth true virtue's dearth :
Remeinber whence you came, whither jou go ;
Of earth, in earth, from earth lo esilh in woe.
No, quoth the potter \ as 1 have been clay, M
So will 1 end with what I did begin ; fl
1 am of earth, and I do what earth may ; ^
1 am of dust, and therefore will I sin :
My life is shon, what then ? I'll make it looger ;
My life is weak, what then t I'll make it stronger.
I
FA&APHKASES. 443
Long shall it live in vice, though short in length,
And fetch immortal steps from mortal slops ;
Strong shall it be in aio, though weak in strength,
Like mounting eagles an high mountains' tops ;
My honour shall be placM in deceit,
And counterfeit new shews of little weight.
My pen doth almost blash at this reply, 10
And fain would call him wicked to his face;
Hut then his breath would answer with a He,
And stain my ink with an untruth's disgrace :
Thy master bids thee write, the pen says no ;
But when thy master bids, it must be so.
Call his heart ashes,— O, too mild a name!
Call his hope vile, more viler than the earth ;
Call his life weaker than a clayey frame ;
Call his bespotted heart an ashy hearth :
Ashes, earth, clay, conjoin'd to heart, hope, life.
Are features' love, in being nature's strife.
Thou might'st have chose more stinging words than
these, II
For this he knows he is, and more than less ;
In saying what he is, thou dost appease
The foaming anger which his thoughts suppress :
Who knows not, if the best be made of clay.
The worst must needs be clad in foul array 1
Thou, in performing of thy master's will,
Doat teach him to ohey his lord's commands ;
But he repugnant is, and cannot skill
Of true adoring, with h^rt-heav'd-up hand:
He hath a soul, a life, a breath, a name,
Yet be is ignorant from whence they came.
444 THE WISDOM OF 60LOUON PAftAFUKABBD.
My soul, saith be, is but a map of eHows, IS
No substance, but a shadow for to please ;
My life doth pass even as a pastiine goes,
A momentary time to live at ease ;
My breath a vapour, and my name of earth,
Eacb one decaying of the other's birth.
Our conversation best, for there is gains.
And gain is best in conversation's prime;
A mart of lucre in our conscience reigns.
Our thoughts as busy agents for the time:
So we get gain, ensnaring simple men,
It is no matter how, nor where, nor when.
We care not how, for all misdeeds are ours ; 13
We care not wliere, if before God or man ;
We care not when, but when our crafls have powers
In measuring deceit with mischief's fan ;
For wherefore have we life, form, and ordaining.
But that we should deceive, and still be gaining ?
I, made of earth, have made all earthen sfaops,
And what I sell is all of earthy sale ;
My pots have earthen feet and earthen tops,
In like resemblance of my body's veil ;
But knowing to offend the heavens more,
1 made frail images of earthy store.
O bold accuser of his own misdeeds ! 14
O heavy clod, more than the earth con bear .'
Was never creature clolh'd in savage weeds,
Which would not blush when they this mischief
Thou told'st a tale which might have been untold.
Making the bearers blush, the readers old.
le? 15
I
THE WISDOM OF BOLOUON PARAPHRASED. 445
Let them blush still that liear, be old that read,*
Then boltlness shall not reign, not youth in vice;
Thrice miserable they which rashly speed
With expedition to this bold device;
More foolish than are fools, whose misery
Cannot be chang'd with new felicity.
Are not they fools which live without a seoE
Have not they misery which never joy !
Which take" an idol for a god's defence.
And with their self-will'd thoughts themselve
destroy ?
What folly is more greater than is here ?
Or what more misery can well appear ?
Call you them gods which have no seeing eyes,
No noses for to amell, no ears to hear,
Ko life but that which in death's shadow ties,
Which have no hands to feel, no feet to bear ?
Ifg
eithei
■, liv
feel, I
A fool may make such gods '
And what was he that made them but a fool, 10
Conceiving folly in a foohsh brain,
Taught and instructed in a wooden school,
Which made his head run of a wooden vein ?
'Tnas man which made them, he his making had ;
Man, full of wood, was wood,^ and so ran mad.
He borrowed his life, and would restore
His borrow'd essence to another death ;
He fain would be a maker, though before
Was made himself, and God did lend him breath :
No man can make a god like to a man ;
He aays he scorns that work, he further can.
' hear . . . rtadl Old ed. " hearei . . . rasdei :"' and in the
Dod] A wretched play on wordx — furioua, mad.
44<1 TBI VODOK or tOUnUam rABATBRAtBD;
I He ia decdv'd, ■nd in bis great deceit
He dodi decMve the folly-guided heans;
Sin lies IB snlnuh, he for lin doth wait.
Here is deceit deceiv'd in either porta ;
His BB deceivcih him, and he his lio.
So cnA with anA it men'd in either gin.
The ciaftanun mortal is, crafl mortal is.
Each AuctioB ourtiog up the other's want;
Hi* kaods are nortal, deadly what is his,
ObIj bis sias bud' in destructioti's plant :
Yet better he iban what he doth devise,
For he bimseirdolh lire, that ever dies.
Say, call you this » god F nhere is his head 7 1
Yet headless is he not, yet bath he none ;
Where is his godhead * fled ; his power f dead ;
His reign 7 decayed ; and his essence ? gone :
Now tell me, is this god the god ofgood?
Or else Silvanus monarch of the wood?
There have I plerc'd his bark, for he b so,
A wooden god, feign'd as Silvanus was ;
But leaving him, to others lei us go,
To senseless beasts, their new-adoring glass ;
Beasts which did live in life, yet died in reason ;
Beasts which did s
Can mortal bodies and immortal souls
Keep one knit union of a living lovef
Can sea with land, can fish agree with fowls ?
Tigers with lambs, a serpent with a dove 7
O no, they cannot ! then say, why do we
Adore a beast which is our enemy ?
- 6«d] Old ed. " budB.-'
THE WISDOU OF SOLOMON PAnAFHRASED. 447
What greater foe than folly unto wit ?
What more deformity than ugly face ?
This disagrees, for folly is unfit,
The other contrary to beauty's place ;
Then how can senseless heads, deformed shows,
Agree with you, when they are both your foes f
O, call that word again ! they are your friends,
Your life's asBociates and your love's content ;
That which begins in thetn, your folly ends ;
Then how can vice with vice be discontent?
Behold, deformity sits on your heads.
Not horns, but scorns, not visage, but whole beds.
Behold a heap of sins your bodies pale,
A mountain -overwhelming villany;
Then tell me, are you clad in beauty's veil,
Or in destruction's pale-dead Hvery 7
Their life demonstrates, now alive, now dead.
Tormented with the beasts which they have fed.
You like to pelicans have fed your death, '2
With follies vain let blood from folly's vein,
And almost slarv'd yourselves, slopt up youi
breath,
Had not God's mercy help'd and eas'd your pain :
Behold, a new-found meat the Lord did send,
Which taught you to be new and to amend.
A at range-digested nutriment, even quails, 3
Which taught them to be strange unto misdeeds :
When you implore his aid, he never fails
To fill their hunger whom repentance feeds :
You see, when life was half at death's arrest.
He new-created life at hunger's feast.
448 THE WISDOM OV SOLOMOn PASAPBKASBD.
Say, is your god like thii, whom you &dor'd.
Or is this god like to your handy-frame ?
If so, his power could not then afford
Such influence, which floweth from hia nan
He is not painted, made of wood and atoDc,
But he Bubsiantial is, and rules alone.
He can oppress and help, help and oppress,
The siDful incolants' of his made earth;
He can redress and pain, pain and redress.
The mountain- miseries of mortal birth :
Now, tyrants, you are next, this but a show.
And merry index of your aAer-woe.
Your hot-cold misery is now at hand ! 5
Hot, because fury's heat and mercy'a cold j
Cold, because limping, knit in frosty band.
And cold and hot in being shamefac'd-lMild:
They cruel were, take cruelly their part,
For misery is but loo mean a smart.
But when the tiger's jaws, the serpent's stings, fi
Did summon them unto this life's decay,
A pardon for their faults tliy mercy brings.
Cooling thy wrath with pity's sunny day :
O tyrants, Icsr your sin-bemired weeds.
Behold your pardon seal'd by mercy's deeds [
Tbat sting which pained could not ease the pain, 7
Those jaws ihai mounded could not cure the
wounds 1
To lurn lo stings for help, it were but rain.
To j«w» for mercy, which wani^ mercy's bounds :
The stings, O Saviour, were puU'd out by thee !
Their jaws claspt up in midst of cruelty.
■ Incefond] i. e. iDhahiUnts. ' icob(J Old ed. " watHs."
I
THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON PARAPHRASED. 449
O sovereign sal re, stop to a bloody str
O heavenly care and cure for dust a
Celestial watch to wake terrestrial dre;
Dreaming in
Now know ou
Which helps and cures our grief and misery.
Our punishment doth end, theirs new begins;
Our day appears, their night is not o'erblown ;
We pardon have, they punishment for sins ;
Now we are rais'd, now they are overthrown ;
We with hnge beasts oppreat, ihey with a fly ;
We live in God, and they against God die.
A fly, poor fly, to follow such a flight!
Yet art thou fed, as thou wast fed before,
With dust and earth feeding thy wonted bite.
With self-like food from mortal earthly store :
A mischief-s tinging food, and sting with sting.
Do ready passage to destruction bring.
Man, being grass, is hopp'd and graz'd upon,
With sucking grasshoppcrB of weeping dew ;
Man, being earth, is worm's vermilion,
Which eats the dust, and yet of bloody hue :
Id being grass he is her grazing food.
In being dust he doth the worms some good.
These smallest actors were of greatest pain.
Of folly's overthrow, of mischief's fall ;
But yet the furious dragons could not gain
The life of those whom verities exhale:
These folly overcame, they foolish were ;
These mercy cur'd, and cures these godly are.
• *Boiu] Old rd. " knowes."
4M THE msDOH OF SOLOMON FARAFBBASED.
When poison 'd jatvs and venenaled stings 1 1
Were both as opposite against content —
Because content with that which fortune brings —
They eased were when thou thy mercies sent ;
The jaws of dragons had not hunger's fill,
Not stings of serpents a desire to kill,
Appall'd they were and struck with timorous fears.
For where is fear but where destruction reigns ?
Aghast they were, with wet-eye-standing tears,
Outward commcncers of their inward pains ;
They soon were hurt, but sooner heal'd and cur'd.
Lest black oblivion had their minds inur'd.
The lion, wounded with a fatal blow, 12
Is as impatient as a king in rage ;
Seeing himself in his own bloody show
Doth rent the harbour of his body's cage;
Scorning the base-hous'd earth, mounta to the
To see if heaven can yield, him remedy.
O sinful man ! let him example be,
A pattern to thine eye, glass to thy face.
That God's di vines t word is cure to thee,
Not earth, but heaven, not man, but heavenly
grace ;
Nor herb nor plaster could help teeth or sting.
But 'twas thy word which healeth every thing.
We fools lay salves upon our body's skin, 13
But never draw corruption from our mind ;
We lay a plaster for to keep in sin.
We draw forth filth, but leave the cause behind ;
With herbs and plasters we do guard misdeeds.
And pare away the tops, but leave the seeds.
»
THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON PAKAPUItASED. 451
Away with salves, and take our Saviour's word !
[n this word Saviour lies immortal ease;
What can thy cures, plasters, and herbs aftbrd,
When God hath power to please and to displease ?
God hath the power of life, death, help, and pain,
He leadeth down and bringeth up again.
Trust to thy downfal, not unto thy raise, 14
So shah thou live in death, not die in life ;
Thou dost presume, if give thyself the praise,
For virtue's time is scarce, but iDischier's rife:'
Thou luay'st offend, man's nature is so vain ;
Thou, now in joy, beware of al\er-pain.
First Cometh fury, after fury thirst, 15
After thirst blood, and afler blood a death ;
Thou may'si in fury kill whom thou lov'd'at first,
And so in quailing blood stop thine own breath i
And murder done can never be undone,
Nor can that soul once live whose life is gone.
What is the body but an earthen case 16
That subject is to death, because earth dies?
But when the living soul doth want God's grace,
It dies in Joy, and lives in miseries :
This soul is led by God, as others were,
But not brought up again, as others are.
This stirs no provocation to amend.
For earth hath many partners in one fall,
Although the Lord doth many tokens send,
As warnings for to hear when he doth call :
The earth was burnt and drown'd with fire and rain.
And one could never quench the other's pain.
rife} f
>, p. iSS.
452 THE WIIDOU OF SOt-OMOK
Although both foes, God made ihem theD both
iriends,
r foes;
And only foes to them which were the
That hate begun in earth what in them e
Sin's enemies they nbich made friends of those ;
Both bent both forces unto single earth,
From whose descent they had their double birth.
'Tis strange that water should not quench a fire.
For they were heating-cold and cooling-hot;
'Tis strange that wails could not allay desire.
Wails water-kind, and fire desire's knot;
In such a cause, though enemies before.
They would join friendship, to destroy the more.
The often-weeping eyes of dry lament 18
Do'' pour forth burning water of despair.
Which warms the caves from whence the tears are
And, like hot fumes, do foul their nature's fair :'
This, contrary to icy water's vale.
Doth scorch the cheeks and makes them red and pale.
Here Rre and water are conjoin'd in one.
Within a red-nhite glass of hot and cold ;
Their fire like this, double and yet alone,
Raging and tame, and tame and yet was bold ;
Tame when the beasts did kill, and felt no fire
Raging upon the causers of iheir ire.
Two things may well put on two several natures, 19
Because they dilfer in each nature's kind,
They differing colours have and differing features ;
If so, how comes it that they have one raindf
God made them friends, let this the answer be ;
They get no other argument of me.
' i)o] Old ed. " Doth." • /air] See note, p. SCO.
SOLOMON PARAFHRABED. 453
What is impossible to God's command ?
Nay, what is possible to man's vain care!
'Tis much, he thinks, that fire should burn a land,
irand which fires bear ;
He thinks it more, that water should bear fire:
Then know il was God's will ; now leave t' inquire.
Yet might'st thou ask, because importunate, 20
How God preserv'd the good ; why ! becauae
111 fortune made not ihem infortunate,
They angels were, and fed with angela' food :
Vet may'st thou say — for truth is always had —
That rain falls on the good as well as bad :
And say it doth ; far be the letter P
From R, because of a mote reverent style;
It cannot do without suppression be ;
These are two bars against destruction's wile ;
Pain without changing P cannot be rain,
Rain without changing R cannot be pain :
But sun and rain are portions to the ground, 21
Andgroundisdust, and what is dust but nought 7
And what is nought is naught, with alpha's sound ;
Yet every earth the sun and rain hath bought;
The sun dolh shine on weeds as well as flowers,
The rain on both distills her weeping showers.
Yet far be death from breath, annoy from joy.
Destruction from all happiness' allines !"
God will not suffer famine to destroy
The hungry appetite of virtue's signs :
These were in midst of fire, yet not harm'd,
In midst of water, yet but cool'd and warm'd.
■■ allinef} i. c. slliei.
454 THE VrtBDOU OF 80L0I10N
And water-wet they were, not water-drown' d, 22
And fire-hoi tliey were, not dre-burn'd ;
Their foea were both, whose hopes destruction
crown'd.
But yet with such a crown which ne'er relum'd ;
Here fire and water brought both joy and pain,
To one disprofit, to the other gain.
The BUQ doth thaw what cold hath Jreez'd beforet
Undoing what congealed ice had done.
Yet here the hail and snow did freeze the more,
In liaving heat more piercing than the sun ;
A mournful spectacle unto their eyes,
That as tliey die, so their fruition dies.
Fury once kindled with the coals of rage 23
Doth hover unrecall'd, slaughters untam'd ;
This wrath on fire no pity could assuage.
Because they pitiless which should be blam'd ;
As one in rage, which cares not who he hare.
Forgetting who to kill and who to save.
One deadly foe is fierce against the other, 34
As vice with virtue, virtue against vice;
Vice heartenM by death, his heartless mother.
Virtue by God, the life of her device :
'Tis hard to hurt or harm a villany,
'Tis easy to do good to verity.
Is grass man's meat ? no, it is cattle's food, 25
But man doth eat the cattle which eats grass,
And feeds his carcass with their nurs'd-up blood.
Lengthening the lives which in a moment pass :
Grass is good food if it be join'd with grace,
Else sweeter food may take a sourer place.
i»E WISDOM OF SOLOMON PARAPHRASED. 455
Is tbeie such life in water and in bread, 26
Id fisli, in flesli, in herbs, in growing flowers?
We eat ihem not alive, we eat them dead ;
What fruit then hath the word of living powers?
How can we live with that which is still dead?
Thy grace it is by which we all are fed.
This ia a living food, a blessM meat, 27
Made to digest the burden at our hearts.
That leaden- weighted food which we first eat,
To fill the functions of our bodies' parts.
An indigested he.ip, without a mean,
Wanting thy grace, O Lord, to make it clean!
Tliat ice which sulphur- vapours could not thaw, 28
That hail which piercing fire could not bore,
The cool-hot sun did melt their frosty jaw,
Which neither heat nor fire could pierce before ;
Then let us take the spring-time of the day,
Before the harvest of our joys decay.
A day may be divided, as a year, 29
Into four climes, though of itself but one ;
The morn the spring, the noon the Bummer's
The harvest next, evening the winter's moon :
Then sow new seeds in every new day's spring.
And reap new fruit in day's old evening.
Else if too late, they will be blasted seeds.
If planted at the noontide of their growing ;
Commencers of unthankful, too late deeds.
Set in the harvest of the reajier's going:
Melting like winter-ice against the sun.
Flowing like folly's tide, and never done.
456 TBX wtaooM of bolomon p
O, fly the bed of vice, the lodge of sin ! 1
Sleep not too long; in your destruction's pleasures t
Amend your wicked lives, and new begin
A more new perfect way to heaven's treasures :
O, rather wake and weep than sleep and joy !
Waking is truth, sleep is a flattering toy,
O, take the morning of your instant good!
Be not benighted with oblivion's eye;
Behold the sun, which kisseth Neptune's flood.
And re-salutes the world with open sky :
Else sleep, and ever sleep j God's wrath is great,
And will not alter with too late entreat.
Why wake I them which have a sleeping mind? 2
O words, sad sergeants to arrest my tnoughti !
If p^'d, they cannot see, their eyes are blind,
Shut up like windolets, which sleep hath bought :
Their face ia broad awake, but not their heart ;
They dream of rising, but arc loath to start.
These were the practisers how to betray
The simple righteous with beguiling words.
And bring them in subjection to obey
Their irreligious laws and sin's accords :
But night's black-colour'd veil did cloud their wifl.
And made their wish rest in performance' skill.
The darksome clouds are summoners of rain, 3
In being something black and something dark ;
But coal-black clouds make' it pour down amain,
Darting forth thunderbolts and lightning's spark :
Sin of itself is black, but black with black
Augments the heavy burthen of the back.
' mfLi/) Old ed. " makes."
PARAPHKABED. 45?
Thej' thought that sins could hide their sinful
In being demi-clouds and semi-nights ;
But [hey had clouds enough to make their games,
I/odg'd in black coverings of oblivious nights :
Then was their vice afraid to lie so dark,
Troubled with visions from Alastor's' park.
The greater poison bears the greater sway, 4
The greatest force hath still the greatest face;
Should night miss course, it vrould infect the day
With foul-risseS vapours from a humorous place :
Vice hath some clouds, but yet the night hath more,
Because the night ivas fram'd and made before.
That sin which makes afraid was then afraid.
Although enchanibcr'd in a den's content ;
That would not drive back fear which comes repaid.
Nor yet the echoes which the visions sent ;
Both sounds and shows, both words and action,
Made apparition's satisfaction.
A night in pitchy mantle of distress, .">
Made thick with mists and opposite to light,
As if Cocytus' mansion did possess
The gloomy vapours of suppressing sight;
A night more ugly than Alastor's pack.
Mounting all nights upon his night-made back.
The moon did mourn in sable-suited veil;
The stars, her handmaids, were in black attire;
All nightly visions told a hideous tale ;
Thescreech-owlsmadetheearth their dismal quire:
The moon and stars divide their twinkling eyes
To lighten vice, which in oblivion lies.
' AlatUr;] Sec noW, p. 132. < rijif] L e. riien.
458 THE WISDOM OF SotOMOM PABAPHRA3EII.
Only appear'd a fire in doleful blase, f
Kindled by furies, rais'd by envious winds,
Dresdrul in sight, which put them to amaze,
Having before fury-despairing minda :
What hair in reading would not stand upright f
What pen in writing would not cease to write T
Fire is God's angel, because bright snd clear,
But [his an evil angel, because dread ;
Evil to them which did already fear,
A second death la them which were once dead :
Annexing horror to dead-slrucken life,
Connexing dolor to live nature's strife.
Deceit was then deceiv'd, treason bciray'd, i
Mischief bcguil'd, a night surpassing night.
Vice fought with vice, and fear was then distnay'd,
Horror itself appall'd at such a sight ;
Sin's snare was then ensnor'd, the fisher cought,*"
Sin's net was then entrapt, the fowler fought.
Yet all this conflict was but in a dream,
A show of substance and a shade of truth.
Illusions for to mock in flattering theme,
Beguiling mischief with a glass of ruth :
For boasts require a fall, and vaunts a shame,
Which two vice had in thinking but to game.
Sin told her creditors she was
And now becoine revenge to rigtit the
With hooey-mermaid's speech alluring seen,
'""''•g words with her old tongue
lit their wrong,
_, lias speecn aiiu'
Making new-pleasing words with III.-I uiu Lun^^ut
ith she, I'll make you whole;
If you be sick, quoi
She cures the body,
■■ cc/ufA/] So
nakcs sick the soul.
FARAFHBASED. 459
[ Safe ia the body niien the soul is wounded.
The soul 13 joyful in the body's grief;
One's joy upon the other's sorrow grounded.
One's sorrow placed in the one's relief:
Quoth SID, Fear nothing, know that I am here ;
When she, alas, herself was sick for fear 1
A promise worthy of derision's place, 9
That fear should help a fear when both are one ;
She was as sick in heart, though not in face.
With inward grief.though not with outward moan :
But she clasp'd up the closure of the tongue,
For fear ihat words should do her body wrong.
Cannot the body weep without the eyes?
les, and frame deepest canzons of lament;
Cannot the body fear without it lies
Upon the outward shew of discontent ?
Yes, yes, the deeper fear sits in the heart.
And keeps the parliament of inward smart.
So sin did snare in mind, and not in face, 10
The dragon's jaw, the hissing serpent's Biing;
Some liv'd, some died, some ran a fearful race.
Some did prevent' that which ill fortunes bring:
All were officious servitors to fear,
And Iter pale connizancc^ in heart did wear.
Malice condemn'd herself guilty of hate,
Widi a malicious mouth of envious spile ;
For Nemesis is her own cruel fate.
Turning her wrath upon her own delight :
We need no witness for a guilty thought,
Which to condemn itself, a thousand brought.
For fear deceives itself in being fear.
It fears ilsdf iD being still afraid;
It fears to weep, and yet it sheds a tear ;
It fears itself, and yet it is obey'd :
The usher unto death, a death to doom,
A doom to die in horror's fearful roniii :
His own betrayer, yet fears to betray, 12
He fears his life by reason of his name;
He fears lament, because it brings decay.
And blames himself in that he merits blame :
He is lorniented, yet denies the pain ;
He ia the king of fear, yet loath to reign.
HisBons were they wliich slept and dreamt of fear, 13
A naking sleep, and yet a sleepy waking.
Which pass'd that night more longer than a year,
Being grief's prisoners, and of sorrow's talcing:
Slept in night's dungeon insupportable,
Lodg'd in night's horror too endurable.
O sleep, the image of long-lasting woe!
O waking image of long-lasting sleep!
The hollow cave where visions come and go,
Where serpents hiss, where mandrakes groan and
Dyeing each heart in white, each white in foul !
A guileful hole, a prison of deceit.
Yet nor deceit nor guile in being desd;
Snare without snarer, net without a bait,
A common lodge, and yet without a bed ;
A hollow-sounding vault, known and unknown,
Yet not for mirth, but too, loo well for moan.
THE WISDOM OF SOtOMOK FARAPHRABED. 461
'Tis a free prison, a chain'd liberty, 15
A freedom's cave, a sergeant and a bail ;
It keeps close prisoners, yet doth set tliem free,
Their clogs not iron, but a clog of wail ;
It stays them not, and yet they cannot go,
Their chain is discontent, their prison woe.
Still it did gape for more, and still more had, 16
Like greedy avarice without content;
Like to Avernus, which is never glad
Before the dead-liv'd wicked souls be sent:
Pull in thy head, tliou sorrow's tragedy,
And leave to practice thy old cruelly.
The merry shepherd cannot walk alone,
Tuning sweet madrigals of harvest's joy.
Carving love's roundelays on every stone,
Hanging on every tree some amorous toy.
But thou with sorrow interlines his song.
Opening thy jaws of death to do him wrong.
O, now I know thy chain, thy clog, thy fetter, 17
Tby free-chain'd prison and thy clogged walk !
'Tis gloomy darkness, sin*s eternal debtor,
'Tis poison'd buds from Achcrontic stalk ;
Sometime 'tis hissing winds which are their bands.
Sometime enchanting birds which bind' their hands ;
Sometime the foaming rage of waters' stream, 18
Or clattering down of stones upon a stone.
Or skipping beasts at Titan's gladsome beam.
Or roaring lion's noise at one alone,
Or babbling Echo, tell-tale of each sound.
Prom mouth to sky, from sky unto the ground.
J fcisrf] Old eJ. " bindi."
4Gi THE WISDOU C
Can such-like fears Tollow man's mortal pace, 19
Wiihin dry wilderness of wettest woe?
It was God's providence, his will, his grace.
To make midnoon midnight in being so ;
Midnight with sin, roidnoon where virtue lay;
Tliat place was night, all other places day.
The sun, not past the middle line of course, 20
Did clearly shine upon each labour's gain,
Not hindering daily loil of mortal force,
Nor clouding earth with any gloomy stain ;
Only night's image was apparent there,
Willi heavy, leaden appetite of fear.
Chap. XVIII.
You know the eagle by her soaring wings, 1
And how the swallow takes a lower pitch ;
Ye know the day is clear and clearness brings,
And how the night ia poor, though gloomy-rich ;
This eagle virtue is, which mounts on high ;'
The other sin, which bates the heaven's eye.
This day is wisdom, being bright and clear;
This night is mischief, heing black and foul ;
The brightest day doth wisdom's glory wear.
The pitchy night puts on a blacker rowl :^
Thy saints, O Lord, were at their labour'a hire I
At whose heard voice the wicked did admire.
They thought that virtue had been cloth'd in night, 2
Captive to darkness, prisoner unto hell ;
But it was sin itself, vice, and despite,
Whose wished harbours do in darkness dwell :
Virtue's immortal soul had mid-day's light,
Miachiers eternal foul had mid-day's night.
" ™;] i,
lAPlJRASED, 463
For virtue is not subject unto vice.
One miacliief is not ihaw'd with other's ice.
But more adjoin'il lo one, makes one more great ;
Sin virtue's captive is, and kneels for grace.
Requesting pardon for her rude-run race.
The tongue of virtue's life cannot pronounce 3
The doom of death, or death of dying doom ;
-Tis merciful, and will not once renounce
Repentant tears, to wash a sinful room ;
Your sin-shine was not sun-shine of delight.
But shining sin in mischief's sunny night.
Now by repentance you are Latli'd in bliss,
Blest in your bath, eternal by your deeds ;
Behold, you have true light, and cannot miss
The heavenly food which your salvation feeds :
True love, true life, true light, your portions true;
What hate, what strife, what night can danger
O happy, when you par'd your o'ergrown faults ! 4
Your sin. like eagle's claws, past growth of time,
All undermined with destruction's vaults.
Full of old filth, proceeding from new slime;
Else had you been deformed, like to those
Which vtere your friends, but now become your
foes.
I Those which are worthy of eternal pain,
Foes which are worthy of immortal hate.
Dimming the glory of thy children's gain
With cloudy vapours set at darkness' rate;
Making new laws, which are too old in crime,
Making old -wicked laws serve a new time.
Wicked
Men ? O nc
For they
bloody laws ; bloody ?
are shameful, these exempt from shame:
It? shall 1 call them stnughter-drinking hearts!
Too fjood a word for their too-ill deserts.
Murder was in their thoughts, they thought to slay ;
And who ? poor infants, harmless innocents ;
But murder cannot sleep, it will betray
Her murderous self, with Belf-disparagements :
One child, poor remnant, did reprove iheir deeds.
And God destroy'd the bloody murderers' seeds.
Was God deslroyer then ? no, he was just, 6
A judge severe, yet of a kind remorse ;
Severe to those in whom there waa no trust.
Kind to the babes which were of little force ;
Poorbabes,halfmurder'd in whole murder's thought.
Had not one infant their escaping wrought.
"Twas God which breaib'd his spirit in the child.
The lively image of bis self-like face ;
'Twaa God which drown'd their children, which
defil'd
Their thoughts with blood, iheir hearts with
murder's place :
For that night's tidings our old fathers joy'd.
Because their foes by water were destroy'd.
Was God a murderer in this tragedy? 7
No, but a judge how blood should be repaid :
Was't he which gave them unto misery?
No, 'twas themselves which miseries obey'd :
Their thoughts did kill and slay within their hearts.
Murdering iheniaelves, wounding their inward parts.
' reutorw] i.
■ pil-
Virtue doth live when villany doth die,
Wisdoin (loth smile tvhen misery doth cry.
The summer-dayB are longer than the nighta, 8
The winter-nights are longer than the days;
They shew both virtue's lovi-s and vice's spites,
Sin's lowest fall, and wisdom's highest raise:
The night is foe to day, as naught to good ;
The day is foe to night, as fear to food.
A king may wear a crown, hut full of strife.
The outward show of a ainall-Iaatinj^ space ;
Mischief may live, but yet a deadly life;
Sorrow may grieve in heart and joy in face ;
Virtue may live diaturb'd with vice's pain ;
God sends this virtue a tnore better reign.
She doth possess a crown, and not a care, 9
Yet cares, in having none but self-like awe ;
She hath a sceptre without care or fear,
Yel fears ihe Lord, and careth for the law;
As much as she doth rise, so much sin falls,
Subject unto her law, slave to her calls.
Now righteousness bears sway, and vice put down.
Virtue is queen, treading on mischief's bead ;
The law of God sancited' with renown.
Religion plac'd in wisdom's quiet bed ;
Now joyftil hymns are tun^d by delight.
And now we live in love, and not in spite.
' imciftd] i. e. orduDci), Tilified.
fl sobs liave pierc'd the grouod,
n of llie cenice's bresst, 10
WailJDg their living fortunes irtth dead sound,
Accents of grief and actions of unrest;
It is not sin herself, it is her seed,
Which, drovrn'd in sea, lies there for sea's foul treed.
It is tiie fruit of murder's bloody womb.
The lost fruition of a murderous race ;
A liltle stone, which would have made a tomb
To bury virtue, with a sin-bold face:
Methinks I hear the echoes of the vaults,
Sound and resound their old-new- weeping faulta.
View the dead carcasses of human state, 11
The outside of the soul, case of the hearts;
Behold the king, behold the subject's fate ;
Behold each limb and bone of earthen arts;
Tell me the difference then of every thing.
And who a subject was, and who a king.
The self-same knowledge lies in this dead scene,
Vail'd' to the tragic cypress of lament;
Behold that man, which bath a master been.
That king, which would have climfa'd above con-
Behold their slaves, by them upon the earth.
Have now as high a seat, as great a birth.
The ground hath made all even which were odd, 12
Those equal which had inequality ;
Yet all alike were fashionM by God,
In body's form, but not in heart's degree :
One difference had, in sceptre, crown, and throne.
Yet crown'd, rul'd, plac'd in care, in grief, in moan.
I rsH'rf] i. e. lowered.
PARAPURASED. 467
For it was cure to wea
And it was grief lo ■
The king death's subject, death his empire's thief.
Which makes unequal state and equal Tare ;
More dead than were alive, and more to die
Tiian would be buried with a mortal eye.
O well-fed earth with ill-digcsling food! 13
O well-ill food! because both flesh and sin;
Sin made it sick, which never did it good ;
Sin made it well, her well doth worse begin:
The earth, more hungry than was Tantal's jaws,
Had flesh and blood held in her earthen paws.
Now could belief some quiet harbour And,
When all her foes were mantled in the ground.
Before their sin-enchantments made it blind.
Their magic arts, their necromantic sound ;
Now truth hath got some place to speak and hear,
And whatsoe'er she speaks she doth not fear.
When Phoebe's axletree was limn'd with pale, 14,1.')
Pale, which becometh night, night which is
black,
Hemm'd round about with gloomy'shining veil,
Borne up by clouds, mounted on silence' back ;
And when night's horses, in the running wain,
O'ertook the middest of their journey's pain ;
Thy word, O Lord ! descended from thy throne,
"The royal mansion of thy power's command,
Standing in midst of the destroyed land,
And brought thy precept, as a burning steve
Reaching from heaven to earth, from earth to l:
Ifi
468 THE WC8D0M OF SOLOMON ■■AKAPHRASED.
Now was ihe niglit far spent, and morning's nings
Flew th[o]rough sleepy ihoughts, and made them
dream. 17
Hieing apace to weic
And give her lime
No sooner had she flown unto the east,
But dreamy passage did disturb their rest:
And then like sleepy-waking hearts and eyes,
Turn'd up the fainting closures of their faces,
Which between day and night in slumber lies.
Keeping their waky and their sleepy places ;
And, lo, a fearing dream and dreaming fear
Made every eye let fall a sleepy tear!
A tear half-wet from ihey themselves half-liv'd, 18
Poor dry-wet tear to moist a wet-dry face ;
A while-red face, whose red-white colour striv'd
To make anatomy of either place ;
Two champions, both resolv'd in face's field.
And both had half, yet either scorn'd to yield.
They which were wont to mount above the ground
Have" leaden, quick-glued sinews, forc'd to lie, 19
One here, one there, in prison, yet unbound,
Henri-airiving life and death to live and die;
Nor were they ignorant of fate's decree,
In being told before what they should be.
There falsest visions sliew'd the truest cause ; 20
False, because fantasies, true, because haps;
For dreams, though kindled by sleep-idle pause.
Sometime true indices of danger's claps.
As well doth prove in these sin-sleeping lines.
That dreams are falsest shews and truest aigos.
' Half] Old CI
PAUAPUBASED, 469
e death had longer pilgrimage.
And vras encaged in more living breasts;
Now every ship had fleeting anchorage,
Botli good and bad were punish'd with unrests
But yet God's heavy plague endur'd not long.
For anger quench'd herself with her self wrong.
Not so ; for heat can never cool with heat.
Nor cold can narm a cold, nor ice thaw ice;
Anger is fire, and fire is anger's meat.
Then how can anger cool her hot device?
The sun doth thaw the ice with melting harm,
Ice cannot cool the sun which makes it warm.
It was celestial fire, terrestrial cold ;
It was celestial cold, terrestrial fire;
A true and holy prayer, which is bold
To cool the heat of anger's hot desire,
Pronounced by a servant of thy word.
To ease the miseries which wraths afford.
Weapons and wit are double links of force ; 2'.
If one unknit, they both have weaker strength ;
The longer be the chain, the longer course,
If measur'd by duplicity of length:
If weapons fail, wit is the better part;
Wit failing, weapons have the weaker heart.
strength, yet sirotig in
do more than strength.
being
Thy word, O Lord, is wisdom, and in it
Doth lie more force than forces can surprise !
Man did not overcome his foes with arms,
But with thy word, which conquers greater harms.
, 470 TSB VBSOX or sotOMOx rAK&fsmAAED.
[ Am ««(4 it «M with wliidi die wortd wu inni'd.
The he«TC— ■■de, iDorUlhy ordaia'd ; 39
\ TkM vmd ii ms iritli irhich aU men were nam'd,
Ib mhiA <MM sord tlirre are all words rooaia'd;
_ riw bicuh of God, \he life of nwrtal state,
He encBj to vice, the foe to hate.
When death preM*d down the >in-de«d liring soali,
And draw'd the nrtain of their seeing day,
Thi> word waa linne's ihield and death's controls,
Which shielded tho« which neTer went »Mtnj ;
For when the dead did die utd end in sin,
The living had asraraoce to begin.
Are all these deeds accom[>li>ih'd in one word? 24
O sovereign word, chief of all words and deeds !
O salve of safety I wisdom's strongest sword,
Boih food and hunger, which both starves and
feeds;
Food unto life, hecause of living power.
Hunger to those whom death and sins devour.
For they which liv'd were those which virtue lov'd.
And those which virtue lov'd did love to live;
Thrice happy these whom no destruction inov'd.
She present there which love and life did give:
They bore the mottoes of elemsl fame
On diapasons of their father's name.
Here death did change his pale to purple hue, 25
Blushing, against the nature of his face.
To see such bright aspects, such splendent view,
Such heavenly paradise of earthly grace,
And hid with life's quick force bis ebon dart
Within the craimiea of his meagre heart.
THE WISDOM OF SOLOUOH FARAFURASED. 471
Descending to the place frotn wlience he came.
With rich-Btor'd chariot of fresh-bleeding wounds.
Sore-grieved bodies from a soul's sick name,
Sore-grieved souls in bodies' sin-sick sounds ;
Death was afraid to stay where life should be ;
For they are foes, and cannot well agree.
CuiP. XIX.
Avaunt, destroyer, with thy hungry jaws, 1
Thy thirsty heart, thy longing ashy bones !
The righteous live, they be not in thy laws.
Nor subjects lo thy deep-oppressing moans !
Let it suffice that we have seen thy show,
And tasted but the shadow of thy woe.
Yet stay, and bring thy empty car again, 2
More ashy vessels do attend thy pace ;
More passengers expect thy coming wain.
More groaning pilgrims long to see thy face :
Wrath now attends (he passage of misdeeds,
And thou shalt still be stor'd with souls that bleeds.
Some lie half-dead, while others dig their graves 3
With weak-forc'd tears, to moist a long-dry
ground ;
But tears on tears in time will make whole waves
To bury sin with overwhelming sound;
Their eyes for mattocks serve, their tears for spades,
And they themselves are sextons by their trades.
What is their fee? lament; their payment? woe;
Their labour ? wail ; their practice ? misery :
And can their conscience serve lo labour so j
Yes, yes, because it helpeth villany :
Though eyes did stand in tears and tears in eyes,
Tbey did another faolishness devise.
47«
■ m MLOvos ^^M^rB»JlS^a.
a^ UtM wksi prmrer did. itn did undo ; i
Ami wku Ar vjt* did win, the b««rt did lose ;
VImnb virtu* rccMidl'd, »iee did Ibrego ;
Whoa (irtiK did furcco, ihat vice did «boow:
O bad dteit h«uii be«i jasi, ejM had been winnen '-
TIkv cyn verc jatt, bat liesns new sin's beginntn.
Tlwy digg'd tnt« (prxTn with crn, but not wiih
hearu; 5
Rcfwwxnn in their race, rice in their thoughl :
Their delTiii^ ryn did take the seaton'a pana;
The bean undid the labour which eyes wroDgfir :
A new atrangr death was porticn for (heir toil.
While virtue late a* jndge to end the broil.
Had to^ne been join'd with ejres, loogae had not
■tntj'd ; G
Had eyes been join'd to heart, heart then l
■«en;
But O, in wanting eyesight, it beiray'd
The dungeon of misdeeds, where il had fa
So, many living in this orb of wo«.
Have heav'd-up eyes, but yet their hearts are low.
This change of sin did make a change of feature,
A new strange death, a misery untold,
A new reform of every old-new creature.
New-serving offices which time made old :
New-living virtue from an old-dead sin.
Which ends in ill what doth in good begin.
When death iHd reap the harvest of despite.
The wicked ears of sin, and mischief's seed.
Filling the mansion of eternal night
With heavy, leaden clods of sinful breed,
Life aow'd the plants of immortality.
To welcome old- made new felicity.
Tlie clouds, the g
Drawn and redrawn with the four winged winds,
Made all of borrow'd vapours, ilarksome fair,
Did overshade their lents, which virtue finds;
The Red Sea's deep was made a dry-trod way,
Without impediment, or stop, or slay.
The tliirsty winds, with overtoiling puffs, 8
Did drink the ruddy ocean's water dry,
Tearing the zone's hot-cold, whole-raggiid ruffa
With ruffling conHicIs in the field of sky;
So that dry eartb did take wet water's place.
With sandy luantle and hard-grounded face.
That way which never was a way before, 9
Is now a trodden path which was unirod.
Through which the people went as on a shore,
Defended by ihe atretch'd-out arm of God;
Praising his wondrous works, his miglity hand.
Making the land of sea, the sea of land.
That breast where anger slept is mercy's bed, 10
That breast where mercy wakes is anger's cave ;
When mercy lives, then Nemesis is dead.
And one for cither's corse makes other's grave :
Hate furrows up a grave to bury love,
And love doth press down hate, it cannot move.
This breast is God, which ever wakes in both;
Anger is his revenge, mercy his love;
He sent them flies instead of cattle's growth.
And multitudes of frogs for fishes strove;
Here was his anger shewn ; and his remorse,"
When he did make dry land of water-course,
..] i.
■ pi'y-
474 THE WISDOK OF SOLOUOK PARAFRKASED.
The sequel proves what actor is the chief; 1 1
All things beginning know," but none their end ;
The sequel unto mirth is weeping grief.
As doP mishaps with happineBs contend ;
For both are agents in this orb of weeping.
And one ilolh wake when other falls a-sleeping.
Yet should man's eyes pay tribute every hour
Wjih tributary tears to sorrow's shrine.
He would all drown himself with his own shower.
And never find the leaf of mercy's line :
They in God's anger wail'd, in his love joy'd ;
Their love brought lust ere love had lust desiroy'd.
The sun of joy dried up their tear-wet eyes, 12
And sate as lord upon (heir sobbing heart ;
For when one comfort lives, one sorrow die*.
Or ends in mirth what it begun in smart :
What greater grief than hunget-starved mood ? -
What greater mirth than satisfying food !
Quails from the fishy bosom of the sea
Came to their comforts which were living-star v'd ;
Dot punishments fell in the sinners' way.
Sent down by thunderbolts which they deserv'd :
Sin-fed these sinners were, hate-cherished ;
According unto both they perished.
Sin-fed, because their food was seed of sins, 13
And bred new sin with old-digested meat ;
Hate- cherished in being hatred's twins.
And sucking cruelty from tiger's teat:
Was it not sin to err and go astray ?
Was it not hate to stop a stranger's way 7
' know] Old eJ. " knowei."
rfo] C
THE WISDOM OF
FAKAPU&ASED. 475
Was it not sin to see, ami not to know?
Was it not sin to know, and not receive?
Was it not hate to be a stranger's foe.
And make tbem captives which did them relieve ?
Ves, it was greatest sin first for to leave them,
And it was greatest hate last to deceive them.
O hungry cannibals! which know no fill, 14
But still do starving feed, and feeding starve.
How could you so deceive? how could you spilli
Their loving selves which did yourselves pre-
0, say that cruelty can have no law.
And then you speak with a mild-cruel tongue ;
Or say that avarice lodg'd in your jaw.
And then you do yourselves but little wrong :
Say what you will, for what you say is spite
'Gainst ill-come strangers, which did merit right.
You lay in ambush.— O deceitful snares, 15
Enticing baits, beguiling sentinels ! —
You added grief to grief and cares to cares.
Tears unto weeping eyes where tears did dwell :
O multitudes of sin, legions of vice.
Which thaw' with sorrow sorrow's frozen ice !
A banquet was prepar'd, the fare deceit.
The dishes poison, and the cup despite,
The ubie mischief, and the cloth a bait,
Like spinner's web t" entrap the strange fly's flight ;
Pleasure was strew'd upon the top of pain,
Which, once digested, spread through every vein.
' ipilQ i. t. dealroy. ' lltaw'] Old cd. '• Ibsw*,"
4T8 TBBH
r lOLOuoK rAJuriiKAASD.
O ill cDDiIuctors of misguidod feet,
Inio a way o( death, a path of guUe !
Poor pilgrimg, which their own desUuction meet
In habiuiinns of an unknown isle:
O, hail they left thai broad, deceivii^ t*aj.
They had been right, and never gone astray I
But mark the puniahmeni nhich did enaue
Upon tlioae ill-mislcnding villaniea ;
Tbey blinded werr tbenuelven with their self view,
And fell tnlo ihoir own-made miseries ;
Seeking ilie entrance of ihcir dwetling-|dtce*
With blinded eye» and dark misguided faces.
Lo, here waa snares ensnar'd and guiles beguil'd.
Deceit decci?'d and mischief was misled, IT
Byes blinded sight and thoughts the hearts dcGrd,
Life living in 8»|>^cis was dying dead ;
Eyes thought for to mislead, and were misled,
Feel went to make mist reads, and did mis tread.
At this proud fall the elements were glad.
And did embrace each other with a kiss,
All things were joyful which before were sod;
The pilgrim* in their way, and could not miss : i
As when the sound of music doth resound
With changing tune, so did the changed gronnd.
The birds forsook the air, ilie sheep the fold ;
The eagle pitched low, the swallow high ;
The nightingale did sleep, and uncanlraU'd
Forsook the prickle of her nature's eye;
The scelyi worm was friends with all her foes.
And suck'd the dew-tears from the weeping ros
< utiy} See uale, p. 393.
The sparrow lun'd the lark's aweet melody,
The lark in silence sung a dirge of dole.
The linnet hclp'd the lark in malady ;
The swans forsook the quire of biltow-roU ;
The dry-land fowl did make the sea their nest.
The wet-sea lish did make the land their rest.
The swans, the quiristers which did complain 1
In inward feeling of an outward loss,
And fill'd the quire of waves with laving pain.
Yet dancing in their wail with surge's toss,
Forsook heri cradle- bj II ow-moun tain bed,
And hies her unto land, (here to be fed :
Her sea-fare now is land-fare of content ;
Old change is changM new, yet all is change ;
The fishes are her food, and they arc sent
Unto dry land, to creep, to feed, to range :
Now coolest water cannot quench ihe fire.
But makes it proud in hottest hot desire.
The evening of a day i;
The evening of a nig
The one is Phrebe's cH
The other Phoebus' i
She
Hen
lakes the
□rn to night, !
a moro to day ;
which is pale-bright,
lore light array;
'n chill-cold SI
;l(s their eyes and makes them weep for v
His beams, ambassadors of his hot will
Through the transparent element of air.
Do '' only his warm ambassage fulfil.
And melt' the icy jaw of Phcebc's hair;
Yet those, though fiery flames, could not thaw cold,
Nor break the frosty glue of winter's mould.
* hir] Is rie(|jenlly used for Iheir by duc oarly writeri j but
moat probably in the pretcnl paiiage tbc nulhor changed the
number ihraugb cuGleiinesB.
' Co] Old ed, " Dolh," ' mell} Old ed. " melts."
MICRO- CYNICON,
SIX SNARLING SATIRES.
Siie Snarling Sulyrri.
Intatial
Crm.
PTBdigttU Zodan.
In.oU»t
Superbia.
Chtaliag
Dnane.
tngling
Py™fer.
Witt
innvceiif.
Jdiit jmlehtT homo eonii hie tibi pulcher emtiuh. Imprimltd ai
Landmi by Tharnat Crteit, far Themv Buthtlt, and are Id br
leld al kit ihap at Iht North deore of PaaUt Church. I^DS. 8vi>.
" In 1S99," Mys Warton, " ippeared ' Micbo-ctnicok lixe
marling satyrei br T. M. Gentleman,' perhaps Thomas Mid-
dletoo." Hill. a/EngtUh Portrii, vol. iv. p. 70, ed. *to.
On account of tbe coDcluding couplet of the " DeSance lo
Enyy,"—
" I, but the authar't mouth, bid ihee avaunt I
He more defiei thy hate, ihy hunt, ihy haunt," —
and became that " Defiance " ii fullowed by what bears ex-
pressly the title of " The Author's Prologue," Mr. J. P. Collier
euspects thai T, M. was only the author's friend; see Tht
Poetical Dicamiron, where these satires are noticed at con-
siderable length, vol. i. p. 282, sqq.
That T. M. and the author of Micro-cijviam were ihe same
■on, 1 have very lillle doubt; but that he was Thomas
Middletoti, 1 feel by no means confident.
HIS DEFIANCE' TO ENVY.
Enty, nhich mak'st lliyielf in common guiie.
To haunt deseTvers, and to hunt deMTts ;
Htrd-sotV, cold -hot, we II -evil, fooliih-w!»e,
MiBConirarietiet, agreeing parts;
Avauni, I say ! I'll anger thee raough,
And fold thy fiery eyea in thy smasky'* snufiT.
Defiance, resolution, and neglects.
True trine of bars against tliy false assault,
Defies, resolves defiance, and rejects
Thy interest to claim ihe smallcil fault :
Tbou lawless landlady, poor prodigal.
Sour solace, credit's crack, fear's festival I
More angry aalire-dayi' I'll muster up
Than thou canit challenge letters in thjr name;
My nigrum^ true-born ink no more shall sup
Thy stained blemish, cbaracter'd tn blame :
My pen's two nebs shall turn unto a fork.
Chasing old Envy from in young a work :
I, but the author's mouth, hid thee avaunt!
He more defies thy hate, tliy hunt, thy haunt.
T. M. Gtni.
' Hit AgCanci, tsc] In imitnlian of Ilitl, who had uihciF<l
in hii Suirca with J Drfianct U Envy.
* imatky] L t., ptrhapi, imiichy or amcechy (rcccbj.
bUek.)
* latirt-ddyi] " Does he intend to pun upon ihc last diy
of ih« week — Salurdaa ! It may be a misprint for Sattfr-dnft.
in Blluaion to liil title, ' Sixe Snaring Salyre*.' " Colliei'i
P«I. Dteam. vol. i. p. 28G.
in] Old ed. " Negrum :" compare p. il 1.
THE AUTHOR'S PROLOGUE.
FIRST BOOK.
last,
DisuoDNTEs from the higli-aapiring hills
Which the all-empty airy kiDgdom fills,
Leaving the scorchM mouniains threatening heavei
From whence fell fiery rage my soul hath driven,
Passing the down-sleep valleys all in hast,'
Have tript it through the woods ; and now
Ani veiUd with a siony sanctuary,
To save my ire-stuft soul, lest it miscarry,
From threatening storms, o'erturning verit;
That shames to see truth's refin'd purity ;
Those open plains, those high sky-kissing
Where huffing winds cast up their airy ace
Were too, too open, shelter yielding none.
So that the blasts did tyrannize upon
The naked carcass of my heavy soul,
And with their fury all my all control.
But now, environ'd with a brazen tower,
1 little dread their stormy-raging power ;
Witness this hlack defying embassy.
That wanders them beforne" in majesty,
Undaunted of their bugbear threatening words,
Whose proud-aspiring vaunts time past records.
Now, windy parasites, or the slaves of wine.
That wind from all things save the truth divine,
' halt} Frfiiuemly thus written for the miteofthe rhyme—
evcD loag after the daie of the present poem (a* by Butler ir
HntlibrBi, &c.).
• iffontt'] Le. before.
494
Wind, turn, and toss into the depih of spite.
Your devilish venom cannot me affright ;
It ia a cordial of a candy tasie,
I'll drink it up, and then let 't run at waste ;
Whose druggy lees, mix'd nith the liquid 6ood
Of muddy fell defiance, as it stood,
I'll belch into your throats all open wide.
Whose gaping swallon nothing ninH beside;
And if it venom, take it as you list;
He spites himself that spiles a satirist.
MICRO-CYNICON.
THE nRST BOOK.
SATIRE r.— INSATIATE CRON.
Cur egil' indignui quiiquam, li divili t
Tims waa when domi-declining toothleaa age
Was of a holy and divine preaage.
Divining prudent and foretelling truth,
In sacred points instructing wandering youth;
But, O detraction of our latter days!
How much from verity thia age eatrays.
Ranging the briery deserts of black sin.
Seeking a dismal cave to revel in !
This latter age, or member of that lime
Of whom my snarling Muse now thundereth rhyme,
Wander'd the brakes, until a hidden cell
He found at length, and still therein doth dwell :
The house of gain insatiate it ia,
Which this hoar-aged peasant deema hia bliss.
O that desire raieht hunt amongst that fur!
It should go hard but he would loose a cur
To rouse the fox, hid in a bramble-buah,
Who frighteth conscience with a wry-mouth'd push.*
But what need I to wish or would it thus.
When I may find him atarting at the Burse,''
■ Cw igtl, &c.] Har. Sal. ii. 2. 103.
* pwAj See note, vol. L p. 29.
^ Burie^ i. t. ihe Royal Excbsn^e, — for the New Bxshange
in the Slrsnd (wliicb out early wntera generally mean when
ihey tocntion " llu Bane") was nnt yel built.
A^ fl^faa fi4 «rtk« c«»l W^
OffcdICr II ifcMAwtwn iinii
Bnw >ii^ ka UmAm r
■ KM.
■'d Am hdl-4fa«««(itig biiss ;
two thb keO iiitriMti M Mi«el bib.
WbMC »Ute atfiei hUA fbriora kmIi ippdis :
And ifcai a wmi a Mine bdarnag goU,
(Hd n ikat he«v«s, ]re«Bg in hciog oU,
FaDa heMDang den tMo ifcM pit of wee,
Fii for sadi detieU e*catttr«*i orenhrew ;
To make ibw pabUe that obMnrM liea.
And more appumt Tulgar tecreciM ;
To make tliia plain, hanli tmto coomHw wiis,
Stmplicil; in common judgment sita.
This doirncast aneel, or declining saint,
(• greedy Cron, when Cron make* his compt ;*
' men eampmrl'] L e. wholly c
' /. wHTlal] Q*. " immorul "
UICKO-CTKtCOK.
487
For his poor creditors fain to decay,
Being bankerouts,' take heels and run away :
Then frantic Cron, gall'd to [lie very heart,
In some by-corner plays a devil's part,
Repining at the loss of so much pelf,
And in a humour goes and hangs himself;
So of a saint a devil Cron la made,
The devil lov'd Cron, and Cron the devil's trade.
Thus may you see such angels often fall,
Making a working-day a festival.
Now to the third point of his deity,
And that's the earth, thus reasons credulity ;
Credulous Cron, Cron credulous in all.
Swears that his kingdom is in general :
As he is regent of this heaven and hell,
So of the earth all others he'll expel ;
The skies at his dispose, the earth his own,
And if Cron please, all must be overthrown.
Cron, Cron, advise thee, Cron with the copper nose,
And be not rui'd so much by false suppose.
Lest Cron's professing holiness turn evil,
And of a false god prove a perfect devil.
I prithee, Cron. find out some other talk.
Make not the Burse^ a place for spirits to walk;
For doubtless, if thy damned lies take place.
Destruction follows : farewell, sacred grace !
Th' Exchange for goodly ^ merchants is appointed ;
Wliy not for me, says Cron, and mine anointed ?
Can merchants thrive, and not the usurer nigh?
Can merchants live without my company!
No, Cron helps all, and Cron hath help from none;
What others have is Cron's, and Cron's his own :
And Cron will hold his own, or 't shall go hard.
The devil will help him for a small reward.
' UnktnmUl i. e. bankrupts. 1 Burse] Bee note, p. 485.
* ^Borf/y] Cfr- "godlj"!
afwgpl. II — ^MlyC -
J
lt»ta_<^4rfA
I *i;;^_<^k
»>«'J-.i.i null h;
uieao-CTKicoN,
Zodon must have liis chariot gilded o'er ;
And when he triumphs, four bare before
In pure while satin lo usher out his way,
To make liim glorious on his progress-day :
Vail' bonnet he that doth not, passing by,
^ "ky,
St in strongest bold :
orns to be controli'd.
a mounted beggar
s bear sway and swagger l
Admiring o
Two days encag'd at It
Storm be that list, he e
What! is it lawful thai
May uncontrolled thus
A base-born
Bred in a cottage, wandering in the mire,
With nailed shoes, and whipstafTin bis hand,
Who with a hey and ree the beasts command ;
And being seven years practis'd in thai trade,
At seven years" end by Tom a journey 's made
Unto the city of fair Troynovant ; *
Where, through extremity of need and want.
He's forc'd to trot with fardle at his back
From house to house, demanding if they lack
A poor young man that's willing to take pain
And mickle labour, though for little gain.
Well, some kind Troyan, thinking he hath grace.
Keeps him himself, or gets some other place.
The world now, God be thank'd, is well amended ;
Want, that ercwhile did want, is now befriended ;
And scraping Cron bath got a world of wealth :
Now what of that ? Cron'sdead; w he re's all his pelf 7
Bequeathed to young Prodigal ; that's well ;
Hia god hath lefl him, and he's fled to hell.
See, golden aouls, the end of ill-got gain.
Read and mark well, to do the like refrain.
Thia youthful gallant, like the prince of pleasure.
Floating on golden seas of earthly treasure.
I ^^'1^]^^,.
r. loB
:. London (founded, according lo ihe fabu-
I, b/ the Trojan Brutua).
•«•«»»■
I ll I 1 1 I
■hai ^i ** ^ik l> ia> a bl ^ «
■iS. ^^ Wk la ■^■BK. k tak Id:
fal. .jUJt.. III.
B. . ta^iW A. •-. r^ fab _«l
T a«»>itfaa*ar»Xar.
*■* J*^** fa44«ifa, 1* y*» haaty'
aa* an*4 a MH>T !
ftinSE ni.-tS10UBT KmBSXA.
f r iiiTft
ba a^ana tfack •<
n-fcrMf-J ifch, iiililii ailiii-j.
Faatcsliar'd [i^fLU. bd> rf' f m.
Wka ada* M^ do radtn a ai fii
Cg.iii-ii Jo«j.ly.o«t»»HabJo
Ba^U iaa tfe ar'm kmc tailiiii M,
Vbm kad iifilmiMg wiajt koU pariaacat;
491
For such it the force of down-decliniDg sin,
Where our sbort-feather'd peacocks wallow in.
That when sweet motions urge them to aspire.
They are so bathed o'er by sweet desire
In th' odoriferous fountain of sweet pleasure,
Wherein delight hath all embalm'd her treasure, —
I mean, where sin, the mistress of disgrace,
Hath residence and her abiding place ;
And sin, though it be foul, yet fair in this.
In being painted with a show of bliss ;
For what more happy creature to the eye
Than is Superbia in her bravery?
Yet who more foul, disrobed of attire?
Pearl'd with the botch as children burnt with tire ;
That for their outward cloak upon the skin,
Worser enormities abound within :
Look they to that; truth tells them their amiss.
And in this glass all-telling truth it is.
When welcome spring bad clad the hills in green,
And pretty whistling birds were heard and seen,
Superbia abroad 'gan take her walk.
With other peacocks for to find her talk :
Kyron, that in a bush lay closely couch'd.
Heard all their cbnt, and how it was avouch'd.
Sister, says one, and softly pack'd away,
In what fair company did you dine to-day?
'Mongst gallant dames, — and then she wipes her lips.
Placing both hands upon ber whalebone hips,
Puft up with a round-circling farthingale:
That done, she "gins go forward with her tale : —
Sitting at table carv'd of walnut-tree.
All covered with damask'd n apery,
Garaish'd with salts" of pure beaten gold,
Whose silver-plated edge, of rarest mould,
■ ulli] i. e. silt-cellan.
KlCtM-CISKOS.
Mov'd admiration in my Bcarching eye,
To se« the goldsmith's rich krti6cy ;
The butler's placing o( his maDchets" white,
The plated cupboard,*' for our more delight.
Whose golden beauty, glancing from on high,
Illuminated other chambers nigh :
The (lowly pacing of ilie servingmen.
Which were appointed to attend ub then,
Holding in either hand a silver dish
Of costly cales of far- fetch' d dainty fish.
Until they do approach the table nigh.
Where the appointed carver carefully
Dischargeth tliem uf their full-freighted hands.
Which instantly upon the table stands:
The music sweet, which all that while did aound,
Ravisli the hearers, and their sense confound.
This done, the master of that sumptuous feast,
In order 'gins to place his welcome guest :
Beauty, first seated in a throne of statet
Unmatchable, disdaining other ipate,
Shone like the sun, nhereon mine eyes still gu'd*
Feeding on her perfections that amai'dt
But O, her silver- framed coronet,
With low-down dangling spangles all beset.
Her auniptuous periwig, her curious curls.
Her liigh-pric'd necklace of entraildd pearia.
Her precious jewels wondrous to behold.
Her basest jem fram'd of the purest gold 1
O, I could kill rayseir for very spite.
That my dim stars give not so clear a light !
Heart-burninff ire new kindled bids despair.
Since beauty lives in her, and I want fair :V
O had I died in youth, or not been born.
Rather than live in hate, and die forlorn !
And die 1 will, — therewith alie drew a kaife
To kill herself, but Kyron sav'd her life.
See here, proud puppets, high-agpiring evils,
Scarce any good, most of you worae than devils,
Excellent in ill, ill in advising well.
Well in that's worst, worae than the worst in hell ;
Hell is stark blind, so blind most women be,
Blind, and yet not blind when they should not see.
Fine madam Tiptoes, in her velvet gown,
That quotes'' her paces in characters down,
Valuing each step that she had made that day
Worth twenty shillings in her best array ;
And why, forsooth, some little dirty spot
Hath fell upon her gown or petticoat ;
Perhaps that nothing much, or something little,
Nothing in many'a view, in ber's a mickle,
Doth thereon surfeit, and some day or two
She's passing sick, and knows not what to do :
The poor handmaid, seeing her mistress wed
To frantic sickness, wishes she were dead ;
Or that her devilish tyrannising fits
May mend, and she enjoy her Ibrmer wits ;
For whilst that health thus counterfeits not well,
Poor here-at-hand lives in the depth of hell.
Where is this baggage ? where's this girl? what, ho!
Quoth she, was ever woman troubled so 1
What, huswife Nan! and then she 'gins to brawl;
Then in comes Nan,— Sooth, mistress, did you callt
Out on thee, quean I now, by the living God, —
And then she strikes, and on the wench lays load ;
Poor silly maid, with finger in the eye.
Sighing and sobbing, takes all patiently.
Nimble afTection, stung to the very heart
To see hei fellow-maie sustain such smart.
491 WICKO-CTKICON,
Flic* to the Burse-gate' for ■ match* or two.
And salvei th' amiM, there ia do nior« to do :
Quick-fooled kindneis, quick as itaelf though^ 4
With thai welUpleaiing news but lately bought i
By love's assiduate care and indutiry.
Into the chamber runs immediately.
Where she unlades the freight of meet content.
The haggler pleas'd doih rise incontinent ;
Then thought of sickness is not thought upon,
C^re hath no being in her mansion ;
But former peacock- pride, grand insolence.
Even in the highest thought hath residenre:
But it on tiptoe stands ; welt, what of that J
It is more prompt to fall and ruinate;
Anil fall it will, when death's shrill, clamorous bell
Shall summon you unto the depth of hell.
Repent, proud princocks,' cense for to aspire.
Or die to lire trith pride in burning lire.
SATIRE IV.— CHEATING DROONE.
Tliere is a cheater by profession
That takes more shapes than the chameleoD ;
Sometimes he jets" it Jn a black furr'd gown.
And that is when he harbours in the town ;
Sometimes a cloak to mantle hoary age,
lll-favour'd, like an ape in spiteful rage;
And then he walks in Paul's' a turn or two.
To see by cheating what his wit can do :
' Boru-gale} Seo note, p. 4SE. • match] i. e. p«IH
" ^irinciKti] Or prinro-r, — i.e. pert, conceited persOD :
perhaps the luthor uses the word here ai the plural of ;irtfi-
MICRO-CYNICON.
495
Perhaps he'll tell a gentleman a tale
Will cost him twenty angels* in the sale ;
But if he know his purse well lin'd wiihio,
And by that means he cannot finger him,
He'll proffer him such far-fet" courtesy.
Thai shortly in a tavern neighbouring by
He hath encag'd the silly gentleman,
To whom he proffers service all he can :
Sir, 1 perceive you are of gentle blood.
Therefore I will our cates be new and good ;
For well I wot the country yieldeth plenty.
And as they divers he, so are they dainty ;
May it please you, then, a while to rest you merry,
Some cates I will make choice of, and not tarry.
The silly cony'' blilhe and merrily
Doth for his kindness thank him heartily;
Then hies the cheater very hastily.
And with some peasani, where he is in fee,
Juggles, that dinner being almost ended.
He in a matter of weight may then he friended.
The peasant, for an angel then in hand.
Will do whale'er his worship shall command.
And yields, that when a reckoning they call in.
To make reply there's one to speak with him.
The plot is laid; now comes the cheater back.
And calls in haste for such things as they lack ;
The table freighted with all dainty cates,
Having well fed, they fall to pleasant chates,*
Discoursing of the mickle difference
'Twixt perfect truth and painted eloquence,
Plain troth, that harbours in the country swain :
The cony stands defendant; the cheater's vein
4M
laCKO-CTXKOK.
la u Dpboli) sn doqiMBt amooth longne.
To be ifBik'i orator, rigfattag eToy wrong.
Befatr the cau*e ooodnded took efleet,
Ib eoiDM a m« of Sdtlling kium abject.
The fery tcfuse of that lafable rout.
Half slioea upon llneir feel torn round about,
Sa«e litili: Dick, th« dapper fitting knare.
He had a ihrcadbane coat to make him brave,'
God kaoix, Kane wonli a tester,^ if it were
Valued at moat, of acTeti it was too dear.
Well, take it u they list, Shakerag came in,
Making do doubt bai ihej xoold like of him,
And' 'twere bm for his person, a prettjr lad.
Well qualified, having a ringing trade.
Well, to it was, (he chealer mutt be coerry.
And he 3 MMig muM hare, call'd Hey-down-deirf :
So Dick begins to sing, the GddleT£s] play ;
The melancholy cooy replies, nay, nay.
No more of ihii ; the other^ bids play on, —
Tis good our spirits should something work
Tut, gentle sir, be pleasant, man, quoth he,
Yours be the pleasure, mine the charge shall b
This do 1 for the love of gentlemen:
HereaAer happily if we meet agen,*
1 shall of you expect like courtesy.
Finding fit time and opportunity.
Or else I ttere UDgraleful, quolh the cony;
It shall go hard but ne nill find some money ;
For some we have, that some well us'd gets mm
Aod so in lime we shall increase our store.
Meaniime, said he, employ it to good use.
Far time ill spent doth purchase time's abuse.
MICEO-CYKICOK. 49
With that, more wine he calls for, and intends
That either of them carouse to alt their friends ;
The cony nods the head, yet says not nay,
Because the other would the charge defray.
The end tries all ; and here begins the jest,
My gentleman betook him to his rest ;
Wine took possession of his drowsy head,
And cheating Droone halh brought the fool to bed
The fiddlers were discharg'd, and all things whist
Then pilfering Droone 'gan use him as he list :
Ten pound he finds ; the reckoning he doth pay.
And with the residue passeth sheer away.
Anon the cony wakes ; his coin being gone,
He exclaims against dissimulation ;
But 'twas too late, the chealer had his prey : —
Be wise, young heads, care for an alXer-day !
SATIRE v.— INGLING' PYANDER.
Age hath his infant youth, old trees their sprigs,
O'erspreading branches their inferior twigs ;
Old beldam hath a daughter or a son.
True born or illegitimate, all's one ;
Issue she hath. The father ? Ask you me 7
The house wide open stands, her lodging 's free :
Admit myself for recreation
Sometimes did enter her possession,
It argues not that 1 have been the man
That first kept revels in that mantian :^
No, no, the haggling commonplace is old,
The tenement hath oft been bought and sold :
• wAlK] i. e. Elill.
' hglhig] See new, »ol. i. p. 301.
( manltanl So written for the rhjin*.
As m ^naAer ■■ a a, ,
g cjFe aMi gams' besru on fiie,
Wbaa <Am) ^ bhA brow, and sndca pr«
La*-bacaiw b«asai^ to tbe tenntinK Inre.
Vb^ A^ 1 <loak n with a oowxttI fear.
Aad Mftr Ml PyMdo'a sia appear T
I wiD, 1 wOL Yov icaamf Wby. I'D tcll,
BecaoM tiaM waa 1 lov'd PjwaAa well ;
Trac tan iadecd wiD kaU lore'i black derame.
So Inalbei nty mm] to aeek FjaDder'* ituuiM.
O, bai I fccl lite worm of coDtciencc cting,
And timantiat nw opoo my soul lo bring
Sinfnl Pyaader into open *iew.
There to receive the tbame that will enioe !
^ >«i] L c tnm. ' rnrmMiit] Sm nMe, p. 489L I
O, this sad passion ofniy heavy soul
Torments my heart and senses do[th] contioll
Shame thou, Pyander, for I can but shame.
The means of my amiss by thy means came;
And shall 1 then procure eternal blame,
By secret cloaking of Pyander's shame,
And he not blush ?
By heaven, I will not! Pll not burn in hell
For false Pyander, though 1 lov'd him well ;
No, no, the world shall know thy villany,
Lest they be cheated with like roguery.
Walking the city, as my wonted use,
There was I subject to this foul abuse :
Troubled with many ihoughta, pacing along.
It was my chance lo shoulder in a throng;
Thrust to the channel I was, but crowding her,
1 spied Pyander in a nymph's attire :
No nymph more fair than did Pyander seem,
Had not Pyander then Pyander been ;
No lady with a fairer face more grac'd,
But that Pyander's self himself defac'd ;
Never was boy so pleasing to the heart ^
As was Pyander for a woman's part ;
Never did woman foster such another
As n-aa Pyander, but Pyander's mother.
Fool thai 1 was in my affection!
More happy I, had it been a vision ;
So far entangled was my soul by love.
That force perforce I must Pyander prove :
The issue of which proof did testify
Ingting Pyander's damnM villany.
1 lov'd indeed, and, to my mickle coat,
1 Pyander, so my labour h
Fair words I had, for s
BiJtn
t enjoy'd the fruit I thought to have.
300 MIC&O-CIKICOK.
0, 10 I nas besolled with her words,
Hii <*ordi, that no part of a she afTord*!
For had he been a she, injurious boy,
1 had not been lo subject to annoy.
A pligne upon such filthy gultery !
The world was ne'er ao drunk with mockery.
Raib-headed cavaliers, learn to be wise ;
And if you needs will do, do with ftdvice;
Tie not aflTection to each wanton smile.
Lest doting fancy truest loTC be|;uile ;
Trust not a painted puppet, as I've done.
Who far more doted than Pygmalion :
The streets aie full of juggling' parasites
With the true shape of virgins' counlerfeits :*
But if of force you roust a hackney hire.
Be curious in your choice, the best will tire;
The best is bad, therefore hire none at all ;
Better to go on foot than ride and fall.
SATIRE VI.— WISE INNOCENT,'
Way" for an innocent, ho ! What, a poor fool f
Not so, pure ass. Ass ! where went you to school 7
With innocents. That makes the fool to prate.
Fool, will you any t Yes, the fool shall ha't.
Wisdom, what shall he have? The fool at least.
Provender for the ass, ho ] stalk up the besBt.
What, shall wc have a railing innocent 1
No, gentle gull, a wise man's precedent.
^ r™,«rA«J See
igling" t {Old cd. "jugliug.")
«N(] i,'c. fool, idio'c
■■ Way] To ihii oord (ohieh is doubtless the right read-
ing), the " Why" of old ed. hu been altered with a pen in
the Bodleian copy.
MICRO-CYNICON. 501
Then forward, wisdom. Not without I list.
Twenty to one this fool's some satirist.
Still doth the fool haunt me ; fond™ fool, begone !
No, 1 will stay, the fool to gaze upon.
Well, fool, stay Btill. Still shall the fool stay? no.
Then pai^k, simplicity ! Good innocent, why go ?
Nor go nor stay, what will the fool do then ?
Vex him that seems to vex all other men.
'Tis imjMsaible ; streams that are barr'd their course
Swell with more rage and far more greater force.
Until their full-stuft gorge a passage makes
Into the wide maws of more scopious" lakes.
Spite me! not spite itself can discontent
My steeled thoughts, or breed disparagement :
Had pale-fac'd coward fear been resident
Within the bosom of me, innocent,
I would have hous'd me from the eyes of ire.
Whose bitter spleen vomits forth flames of Bre. '
A resolute ass ! O for a spurring rider!
A brace of angels !" What, is the fool a briber?
Is not the ass yet weary of his toad 1
What, with once bearing of the fool abroad?
Mount again, fool. Then the ass will tire.
And leave the fool to wallow in the mire.
Dost thou think otherwise 7 good asa, then begone !
I stoy but till the innocent get on.
What, wilt thou needs of the fool bereave me 7
Then pack, good, foolish ass ! and so I leave thee.
^ /mrf] See nole, p. 3+3.
■ fcoptou] i. e. spacious, ample.
° angeli] See note, p. 20.
EPILOGUE
LAST SATIRE OF THE FIRST BOOK.
Thus may we see by folly of [i] the wise
Stumble and fall into fool's pajadisc.
For jocund wit of force must jangling be ;
Wit musi have hi* will, and so had he:
WU muBt havci his will, yel, parting of ibe frajr.
Wit was enjoin'd to carry the fool awxy,
Qui color' alimt erat, nunc eil coHtrariut albo.
' tkifril iooli) Notecond Book ii known ta have ■ppeartd.
I mmil han] The 6nt word ii deleted, and the aecond il-
Icred with ■ pen to "hid," in ihe Bodleiao copy of thu poem,
— ■ probnbic GorrectioD-
' (tiii iviar. Sis.] Olid, Mttam. li. A*l.
On the death* of thai great vnuter in his art and
quality, •painting and playing, R[ichard] Buk-
AsTBOHOMBRs and Btar-gaxers this year
Write but of four eclipses ; five ap{)ear,
Death interposing Burbage; and their staying
Hath made a visible eclipse of playing.
TllO. MiDDLETON.
• On the death, &c.] Theae linn (the meaning of wbich U
lufficienily obicure) nere Rni printed in Collier'i Sew Facit
rtgarding Ihe Life nf Skahtipeart, p. 26. from a MS. miiccllatiy
of poetry belonging lo ihe Isle Mr, Heber. The cttebrned
actor, Burbage (who olao bandied ibi! pencil, and is suppoied
to have painted the Chandoa portrait of Sbakeipeare), died
in March 1618-19.
/n the Jutl rrorth* of that well - deterver, .
Joim Webster, and upon Ihu mcuterpiect of
tragrdy.
In this ihou Imitat'st one rich snd wise.
That sees liis good deeds done before he dies ;
A* he by works, thou by this nork of fame
Ha«t nell provided for thy living name.
To trust to othera' lionourtngs is worth's crime ;
Thy tnonumeot is rais'il in thy life-titne;
And 'tis mott just, for every worthy man
Is his own marble, and his merit can
Cut him 10 any iigure, and express
More art than death's cathodral palaces.
Where royal ashes keep their court. Thy note I
Be ever plainness, 'tis the richest coat r
Thy epitaph only the title be, —
Write Ducheu. that will fetch a tear for tJiee ;
For who e'er law this duchess live and die,
That cotUd get off under a bleeding eye 1
In Tragcediam.
Ut liu ex lenebru ictu pcrcussa tonantlf.
Ilia, mind malit, elarisfit tila poclit.
ThOHAS MiDDLKTOin
Potia <( Chraw. L
' /• Oujiat Kmlh, &c.] Prefixed to Webiter's fhttkttx bT
THE BLACK BOOK.
The Blaeke Booke,
Chorlton, 1604. 4to.
Limdom Printed by T, C. for J«(frey
THE EPISTLE TO THE READER ;
THE TRUE CHARACTER OP TUIS BOOE.
To all those that are truly TJrtnoiu, aoil can unA
pitch and yet never defile themselveK ; read the
miichievou* lives and pernicious practices of rO-
lains, ^and yet be never the worse at the end of the
book, but rather confirmed the more in their hoiwtt
estates and the uprightness of their virtues; — to
such I dedicate myself, the wholesome intent of my
laboars, the modesty of my phrases, that even falusb
when they discover vices and unmask the world's
■hadowed riltanies : and I account him as a traitor
to virtue, who, diving into the deep of this cunning
Mge, and finding there such monsters of nature,
such speckled lumps of poison as panders, harlots,
nnd ruffians do figure, if he rise up silent again,
and neither discover or publish them to the civil
rank of sober and continent livers, nho thereby
may shun those two devouring gulfs, to wit, of
deceit and luxury,* nhich swallow up more mortals
than Scylla and Charybdis, those [wo cormorants
■ind Woolners'' of the sea, one tearing, the other
' /luvry] L e. luit. lendoESa.
• IFiKlntr.'] Out old writer* o,
named Woolner, or Wolner, u * oolonou* gormandiaer;
I>ekker calls bim " that cannon of glutloaj," 7^ Oxelti lU-
devouring. Wherefore I freely persuade myself, no
virtuous spirit or judicial worlliy but will approve
my politic moral, wliere, under the shadow of the
devil's legacii-s, or his bequeathing to villains, 1
strip their villanies naked, and bare the infectious
bulks'^ of craft, cozenage, and panderism, ilie three
bloodhounds of a cominonwealih. And thus far I
presume that none will or can except at this —
which 1 call the Black Book, because it doubly
damns the devil — but some tainted harlot, noseless
bawd, obscene ruffian, and such of the same black
nature and iilthy condition, that poison the towardly
spring of gentility, and corrupt with the mud of
mischiefs the pure and clear streams ofa kingdom.
And to spurgal] such, who reads me shall know I
dare ; for I fear neither the ratsbane of a harlot
nor the poniard of a villain.
T. M.
Woollier ihe ainging man of Windior, ihit wai the great
and how sbe made him pay Tor hii breakefasL"
ttj] i.e. bodiea.
A MORAL.
LvciTER atcrruiing, at Prologue to hit ottn Play.
Now is hell landed here upon the earth.
When Lucifer, in limba of burning golij,
Ascends thti dusiy theatre of the norld.
To join hii powers ; and, were it number'd well.
There are more devils on earth than are in liell.
Hence springs my damned joy ; my tortur'd spleen
Melts into mirthful humour at this fate,
That heaven is bung so high, drawn up ao far.
And made so fast, nail'd up with many a star ;
And hell the very shop-board of the earth.
Where, when 1 cut out souls, I throw the sbreda
And the white linings of a new-soil'd spirit,
Pawn'd to luxurious" and adulterous merit.
Yen. that's the sin, and now it takes her turn.
For which the world shall like a strumpet burn ;
And for an instance lo fire false embraces,
I make the world burn now in secret places :
I haimt invisible corners as a spy,
And in adulterous circles there rise I ;
There am I conjur'd up through hot desire.
And where hell rises, lliere must needs be fire.
And now that I have vaulted up so high
Above the stage-rails of this earthen globe,
I must turn aclor and join companies.
To share my comic sleek-ey'd villanies ;
For I must weave a thousand ills in one.
To please my black and burnt affection.
Why, every term-time I come up to throw*
Dissension betwixt ploughmen that should sow
The field's vast womb, and make the harvest grow :
«] J.
* firoB.] Old (U. ■■
511
So comeg it oft to pass dear years befal,
When ploughmen leave the field to till ihe ball ;
Thus famine and bleak dearth do greet the land,
When the plough's held between a lawyer's hand.
I fat with joy to see how the poor swains
Do box their country thighs, carrying their packets
Of writings, yet can neither read nor write :
They're like to candles, if they had no light;
For they are dark within in sense and judgment
Aa is the Hole ^ at Newgate; and their thoughts
Are, like the men that lie there, without spirit.
This strikes my black soul into ravishing music.
To see swains plod and shake their ignorant skulls ;
For they are nought but skull, their btain but burr.
Wanting wit's marrow and the sap of judgment;
And how they grate with their hard naily soles
The stones in Fleet-street, and strike fire in Paul's ;
Nay, with their heavy trot and iron stalk,
They have worn off the brass in the Mid-walk.*
But let these pass for bubbles, and so die,
For I rise now to breathe my legacy.
And make my last will, which, I know, shall stand
As long as bawd or villain strides ihe land.
For which I'll turn my shape quite out of verse,
Mov'd with the Supplication ■" of poor Pierce,
That writ so rarely vUlanous from hence
For spen ding-money to my excellence ;
Gave me my titles freely ;' for which giving,
I rise now to take order for his living.
1
;, vol. i
>. 362.
i. p. 4 IB.
<> iht5«pplkaHen,&c.'] i. t. Pitrci Penniltut hit Supplicatim
lo Ihi Diuell, one of thi most celebrated and populiT pioduc-
tiont of thit ndminble praie-ialiTJit, Thomu Nuh. It lint
nppesred in 1292, during; which year (see CoUier'a Bridge-
ivalir- limit Catalogue, p. 200) it readied a third edition.
' Gave mr mj/ liflet freely] " To tlie high and mighlie Prince
of darkoesae, DDDieil detl Lucifer, King afAcberao, Stii *ad
513
The black Knight of the Post J mhortly r
From hell, nhere many a tobacconist but
With nevrs to smoky galUnte, riotous heirs.
Strumpets that follow t beat res and fairs,
Oilded-nos'd usurers, bsse-raetaU'd paaden.
To cop per- captains and Piei-hatch* cotnmuidera,
To all infectious caichpolls tlirougli the town.
The very speckled vermin of a crown :
To these and those and every damned one
111 bequeath leKacies to thrive upon;
Amongst the wiiiE^h I'll ^ive for his redress
A standing pension to Pierce Pennyless.
Phlc^lon, Duke of Tirlirjr, Msr<|Uc(K of CocyiuK, and L
bitth Rfgent of Ljrmbo," 8:c Ptrrtf fmniluit. Sic, lig. ■ !.
Hi. IS9G.
' KnigM Iff Ihr Pull — Or, u the term is aTtcntardiTiried ia
the present piece, " Knight of Perjury" — nieana a hireling evi-
dence. &c.: we note. ToT. 1. p. 30S. Nmh makei Pierce cDminil
hu SupplicBiion lo the care of a knight of the post, who de-
scribe! himtelf l<i be " ■ felLov that mil sweire JDU sny thin^
for rnelue pence, bul indeed [ am a ipiKl in nature and
essence, that lake vpan me this humane shape, onety to *rt
men together by the eares, and send soules by millions id
helL" Pirrct PenniUiu. &e., lig. s. ed. Ifi95.
In " A priuale Epistle to the Priuter," originaily prefixed
to the secnnd ed. of the tract just quoted, the au^or tfllshim
that " if my leysure were such ai I could viih. I ninfhl bspi
(halfe a fesre bence) write the returnc of the Knight of the
Post from bell, with the DiueU nntwere to the Supplication."
Sig. A 2. ed. U<)£. What Nuh wanted time or inclinaUon lo
do, WIS sltemptcd by others after hii decease ; a writer, who
profeuea to have been his "inliniate and near companion,"
putrorth Tha fUlume af thr Kniekl of thi Pail /nm HiU, 1606:
and Dekker pubtished a patnplilet, of the same dale, called
Neuvifrom Hell, Brought by Ikt Diiulli Carrier, the ruDniog
title of which is Tht Dimli AnHetre la Pltrct Pimyltat.
^ Fiel-liaick] Was a notDriaushaunt of proBtituleaand the
worst characters of both lexei.— " the very skirls of all bro-
thel-bouies," as it is presently termed by our author. Iljs
THE BLACK BOOK.
No sooner was Pierce Pennyless breaiheil forth,
but I, the light-burning sergeant, Lucifer, quenched
my fiery shape, and whipl into a constable's night-
gown, the cunningest habit that could be, to search
tipsy taverns, roosting inns, and frothy alehouses;
when calling together my worshipful bench of bill-
men,' I proceeded toward Pict-hatch, intending lo
begin there first, which (as I may fitly name it) is the
very skirls of all brothel-houses. The watchmen,
poor night-crows, followed, and thought still they
had had the constable by the hand, when they had
the devil by the gown-sleeve. At last, I looking
up to the casements of every suspected mansion,
and spying a light twinkling between hope and
desperation, guessed it to be some sleepy snuff, ever
and anon winking and nodding in the socket of a
candlestick, as if the Hame had been a-departing
from the greasy body of Simon Snulf the stinkard.
Whereupon I, the black constable, commanded my
white guard not only to assist my oflicc with their
brown bills, but to raise up ihe house extempory :
with that, the dreadful watchmen, having authority
d bill, (a kind of
o«t tt At wradow, dnusdioc tlie nuoa why ibcj
~' _u*ifj- I (Ml) her ia pUia tana
ikM I had ■ wiiniM to Much fron the abenffof
How! (ioa ^ •lietiS' of Linw rtitat
■ wimblfr-clua (far k> ifae tiMkniood
had baea IittttB ibt
■ dmm of My bome
1 It ofm tad r«ecm jroo, naaier eo "
Wtth taat, at ban^ ibe watchword, two c
vaalied oal of tbair bed* U once, oae sweuin^
■tocks aad Mooca, be eomld doi Gad Kis Mockian
ixbar tbat tbej mold iwt hit upon tb«ir fabe
tbeir Beah u th«y eoM,
iwdve
lima mittt) i wfa* d
•ban It opau Mo rvedre jroo, naaier coosiabfe.
I to weak nmfa and Uume nytelt
m aa doae to t'' ~ '
aad never pot than off nae
old. At laat tbey shaSed up, and were abut oat
■ that HggBJ (hmag dwa) «iA
- Tbr tao* ■«■ te «• fa «iib ohu ikn (I
IWr dM* wiB faa^ lika addcn b7 E«e<
ToL ». p. n.
Wk« h b ffMllMMri Am n« WmI £«» nkd ratibr &»-
I IUb ws« nUiAad ntbom tba wtitcr-B Bi^ ba^i«
J tba iwddt T. M. nkaertbcd w a imteoiT adliw^
C paiaUd pavaga from HidilMoa'* A
"-' ] i.«. Itfll,— prop^rlf, the bmdcn ofbcIL Com-
from Xub, note, p. 513.
J
THE BLACK BOOK. 515
at the back part, as I came in at the north part.
Up the stairs I went to Examine the feather-beds,
and carry the sheets before the justice, for there
nas none else then to carry ; only the floor was
sireiveil with busk -points,'' silk garters, and shoe-
strings, scattered here and there for haste to make
away from me, and the farther such run, the nearer
they come to me. Then another door opening
rearward, there came puffing out of the next room
a villanous lieutenant without a band, as if he had
been new cut down, like one at Wapping, with his
cruel garters' about hia neck, which fitly resembled
two of Derrick's necklaces.* He bad a head of
hair like one of my devils in Doclryr Faustus,^ when
the old theatre cracked and frighted the audience :
his brow was made of coarse bran, as if all the
flour had been bolted out to make honester men,
so ruggedly moulded with chaps and crevices, that
I wonder how it held together, had it not been
pasi«d with villany : bis eyebrows jetted out like
the round casement of an alderman's dining-room,
which made his eyes look as if they bad been both
dammed in his head ; for if so be ttvo souls had
been so far sunk into hell-pits, they would never
have walked abroad again: hia nostrils were cousin-
germans to coral, though of a softer condition and
1 bvi!i-pt}inli\ i. e. the lagged Ucea by which the busks
[pieces of wood or whalebone worn down the front of the
etayt) were fastened.
' tTHtl garliri] We have the game pun in ShikesoHTe's
King Ltar, act ii. ic. 4, in Ben Jonson'i Ahhrmiil, act i. so. ],
and elsewhere. Creail means a finer kind of yarn.
* Derriek't mcklacei'] i.e. tbe hanginiui'a ropes: Derrick,
who is often menlioned by our old wrilen, was the cainmon
hangmsn.
■ Doctvr Fmii/tu] The well-known drama bj Marlowe.
E BLACK BOOS.
■ 616
H of ■ more relenting kumouT : )iU crow-black niu-
H c)uitocs° were klmott lialf «□ ell from one end to
H ihc other, wt ihougli ilic^y would whisper him in
H the ear about a cheat or a murder ; anil his whole
H &ce in general was more detestable ugly than the
H visage of tny ^rim porter Cerberus, which shewed
H that all his body besides was made of filthy dust
H and sea-coal ashes : a down countenance be had,
H aa if he would have looked thirty mile into hell,
H and seen Sisyphus rolling, and Ixion spinning and
H reeling. Thus Jn a pair of hoary slippers, hit
H Biockinga dangling about his wrists, and his red
H buttons like foxes out of ilieir holes, be began, like
H the true champion of a vaulting- house,' first to
H fray me with the bugbears of his rough-cast beard,
H and then to sound base in mine ears like the bear-
V garden drum ; and this was the humour he put on,
' and tlie very apparel of his phrosrs : Why, master
conatnble, dare you balk us in our own mansion,
ha? What! is not our house our Cole -harbour,'
our castle of come-down and lie>down t Musi my
■ nvchaioeil i. e. muiUcluM. So S. Roirley i
" Had my Barbour
Ptrfum'd my lousy thslcli here, and poak'd oat
My TuskFB mare ilifTe Ihan art ■ Can MHieMaloft,
Tbeie pide-wing'd Buiterflyei had knowne me iheo."
nr f^'obU SpanUk Soldier, 1634, sig. c
The linn jiut quoted lecm to ihor, Ibat, when Ursula uy<
lo Knockem, " never tuak nor twirl your dibble" (D. Jonion't
Barlhottmiw Fair—Horli, Vol. iv. p. 4UJ, ibe means ■■«■
iiiiliia, and nol (« Giflord conlNtured) ttatil, Mualachioa,
by bpiag itarched oi pinnncd, were mxte to project froni the
corners of Ihe moulh.
' taalliig-^imit] i, e. brotbal.
■ Cott'liatlaur] L e. Moctuaiy: tee note, toI. iL p. fig.
4
THE BLACK DOOK. 517
lionest wedded punk liere, ray glory-fat Audrey,^
be taken napping, and raised up by the lliunder of
bill-men?' Are we disannulled of our first sleep,
and cheated of our dreams and fantasies? Is tliere
not Ian too for stealing away a raan's stumbers, as
well as for sheets off from hedges! Come you to
search an honest bawdy -liouae, this seven and
twenty years in fame and shame 1 Go to, then, you
shall search, nay, my very boots too ; are you
well now ? the least hole in ray house* too ; are you
pleased now? Can we not take our ease in our
inn, ** but we raust come out so quickly? Naud,''
go to bed, sweet Naud ; thou wilt cool ihy grease
anon, and make ihy fat cake. This said, by the
virliie and vice of my office I commanded my bill-
men down stairs; when in a twinkling discovering
myself a little, as much as might serve to relish
me, and shew what sluff I was made of, 1 came
and kissed the bawd, hugged her excellent vil-
lanies and cunning rare conveyances;'' then turning
myself, I threw mine arms, like a scarf or bandi*
leer,* cross the lieutenant's melancholy bosom, em-
braced his resolute phrases and his dissolute
I ghrg-fal Judrry^ " HercB fine Backon Si«ler its ghtt
Fal." loriiSIre Diahgne, p. 1* (sppended lo Thi Praiu tjf
YarkthireJU, 1097). (he ClavU to which hai ■• Glare fat is very
fau"— The compiler or the Fourth PirtotBiblhI>iecaHei4natia,
in some remarki on Tlii Black Book, uya (p. IKl), witb refer-
ence lo the preaenl paEiagc, that " nobouy has noticed (he
allution 10 Bhikeipeare's Ai jrok lUii ii, and the msrriige of
TouchstoDe and Audrey" 1 1 1
" e,p.SI3. ■ ' "
' lait 01
,J] A c<
' cmMjonwi] i. e. diit
• handihtrl i. e, broad
over the left ihoulder, to '
NX] See note, p. IBS.
n of Audrey.
t tricki, juggling Brliflcea.
ern belt, vtorn by a muaqueteer
1 Here appended a mall powder-
J
SIS IKE BLACK BOOK.
huinoun, liiglily comnaending the damnable trade
and detntnbie cdutbc of their living, as excellent-
filibv and «i admirable -villanoua. Whereupon
ihia lieutenBDi of Pii-i-haicli* fell into deeper les
and farther Bciguainiance vrith the blackness
boaoin, sometimeB calling me master Luci
head-boTOUgh, sometimes master Devillin ih
black constable. I'bcn telling me he heard fro«
Limbo' the second of the last month, and that he had
the letter to shevr, where they were all very merry f*
marry, na he told me, there nere some of his friends
in PhlegethoD troubled with the heart-burning ; yea,
and with the soul-burning too, thought I, though
thou little dreamost of the torment : then com-
plaining to me of their bad takings all the last
plaguy summer.!' that there was no stirrings, and
iherefure undone for want of doings: whereupon.
utter many such inductions to bring the scene of
his poverty upon the stage, he desired, in cool
terms, to borrow some forty pence of me. I, siuft
with anger nt that base and lazy petition, knowing
thai a right true villain and an absolute practised
pander could Dot want silver damnation, but, living
upon the revenues of his wits, might purchase the
devil and all, half-conquered with rage, thus I re-
plied lo his baseness : Why, for shame ! a bawd
and poor ? why, then, let usurers go a-begging, or,
like an old Greek, stand in Paul's with a porringer;
let brokers become whole honest then, and remove
to heaven out of Houndsditch ; lawyers turn feeless,
and take ten of a poor widow's tears for ten shil-
lings ; merchants never forswear themselves, whose
great perjured oaths a' land turn to great winds
TBE BLACK BOOK. 519
and CBBt away their ships at sea, which false per-
fidious tempest splits their ships abroad and their
souls at home, making the one take salt water and
the other salt fire ; let mercers then have conicion-
sble thumbs when they measure out that smooth
glittering devil, satin, and that old reveller, velvet,
in the days orMonsieur,^ both which have devoured
many an honest field of wheat and barley, that
hath been metamorphosed anil changed into white
money. Pooh, these are but little wonders, and
may be easily possible in the working. A usurer to
cry bread and meat is not a thing impossible ; tor
indeed your greatest usurer is your greatest beggar,
wanting as well that which he hath as that which
he hath not ; then who can be a greater beggar f
He will not have his house smell like a cook's
shop, and therefore takes an order no meat shall
be dressed In it ; and because there was an bouse
upon Fish- street- hi II burnt to the ground once, he
can abide by no means id have a fire in his chimney
ever since. To the confirming of which I will insert
here a pretty conceit'' of a nimble-witted gentle-
woman, that was worthy to be ladilied for the jest;
ivho, entering into a usurer's house in London to
take up money upon unmerciful interest for the
apace of a twelvemonth, was conducted through
two or three hungry rooms into a fair dining-room
by a lenten-faced fellow, the usurer's man, whose
nose shewed as if it had been made of hollow paste-
board, and his cheeks tike two thin pancakes clapt
together; a pitiful knave he was, and looked for
all the world as if meal had been at twenty shillings
a bushel. The gentlewoman being placed in this
fair room to await the usurer's leisure, who was
casting up ditches of gold in his counting-house,
< dagi tifMaimur) See note, vol. iL p. 3BB.
» cunnW] See note, p. 42.
5Sa tHS BLACK BOOK.
tod bein^ almost frozen will) *i&oding — for it ms
before Canillemas' TrtMt - bitten term — ever and
«DOD luming about to the chimney, where she saw
a pair of corpulent, gigantical andirons, that stood
like two buTgoniBsters, at boih routers, a beanb
briskly dressed op, and a great cluster of charcoal
piled up together like black puddings, which lay
for a dead lire, and in the dining-room loo: the
Sen tie worn an, wondering it nas so long a-kindling, at
Ut she caught the miserable conceit of it, and
caUing her man to her, bade him seek out for 3
piece of chalk, or some peeling of a while wall,
whilst in the meantime she conceited the device;
when, taking up the six former^ coals, one afler
another, she chalked upon each of them a aaiirical
letter ; which six were these,
T. D. C. R. U. S.;
explained thus,
Thtu dead coah
Reremble ururert' am/*.
Then placing Oiem in the same order again, turning
the chalked sides inward lo try conclusions,' which,
as it happened, made up the jest the better : by
that time the usurer had done amongst his golden
heaps, and entertaining the gentlewoman with a
cough a quarter of an hour long, at last, aflcr a
rotten hawk and a hem, lie began to spit and speak
to her. To conclude ; she was furnished of the
money fur a twelvemonth, but upon large security
and most tragical usury. When, keeping her day
the twelvemonth after, coming to repay both the
^ /ormtf'i " Bui force agiinit (orrt, (kill igainit still, to
rniiirctaiiigeBbl; eocounlercil, thai ii wu not easy lo deter-
mine, wheibcr enlrrpriiing or prereniing came/onifT." Sir
P. Sidney'! ArtadUi, lib. iii. p. 102. ed. 1633.
1
THE BLACK BOOK.
631
money and llie breed of it — for interest may well
be called the usurer's baatard — she found the hearth
dressed up in the same order, with a dead 6re of char*
coal again, and yet the Thames was half-frozen at
that time with the bitterness of the season: when
turning the foremost rank of coals, determining
again, as it seemed, to draw some pretty knavery
upon them too, she spied all those six letters whicli
she chalked upon them the twelvemonth before,
and never a one stirred or displaced; the strange
sight of which made her break into these words : —
Is it possible, quoth she, a usurer should burn so
little here, and so much in hell? or is it the cold
property of these coals to be above a tnelvcmonth
B-kindling? So much to shew the frozen charity
of a usurer's chimney.
And then a broker to be an honeat soul, that is,
to take but sixpence a-month, and threepence for
the bill-making ; a devil of a very good conscience!
Possible too to have a lawyer bribeless and without
fee, if his clientess, or female client, please his eye
well: a merchant to wear a suit of perjury but
once a quarter or so, — mistake me not, 1 mean not
four limes an hour; that shift were too short, he
could not put it on so soon, I think : and, lastly,
not impossible for a mercer to have a thumb in
folio, like one of the biggest of the guard, and so
give good and very bountiful measure. But, which
is most impossible, to be a right bawd and poor —
it strikes my spleen into dulness, and turns all my
blood into cool lead. Wherefore was vice ordained
but to be rich, shining, and wealthy, seeing virtue,
her opponent, is poor, ragged, and needy? Those
that are poor are timorous'honest and foolish-
harmlcss ; as your carolling shepherds, whistling
ploughmen, and such of the same innocent rank.
THE BLACK BOOK.
V A23
H tlial never reliah the black juice of viUitny, never
H taste (ho red laoA nf murder, or the dnninable
H stickets of luxury 'J vrhereas a pander is the very
H oil of villains and the syrup of rogues ; of excellent
H rogues, I mean, such as have purchased five huo-
H dreds a-year by the talent of their villany. Haw
H many such gallants do I know, that live ooly upon
I the revenue of their nits ! some nhose braini are
H above an hundred mile about ; and those are your
^L geometrical thieves, which may fitly be called so,
^B because they measure the highways with false gal-
^1 lops, and therefore are heirs of more acres than
^B five-and-fihy elder brothers : sometimes ihey are
^V clerks of Newmarket Heath, sometimes the sheTJlA
H of Salisbury Plain; and another time they commit
H brotlielry, when they make many a man stand at
f Hockley-in-the-Hote. These are your great head
landlords indeed, which call the word robbhig the
I gathering in of their rents, and name all passengers
their tenanta-at-will.
Another set of delicate knavea tliere are, that
dive into deeds and writings of lands left to young
gullBnches, poisoning the true senae and intent of
ihem with the merciless antimony oftheCommnn
Law,' and so by some crafty clau[a]c or two shove
the true foolish owners quite beside the saddle of
their patrimohiet, and then they hang only by the
stirrups, that is, by the cold alms and frosen charity
of the gentlemen-defealers, who^if they take after
tne, their great grandfather — will rather stamp them
THE BLACK BOOK. 523
down in the deep mire of poverty than bolster up
their heads with a poor wisp of charity. Such as
these corrupt the true meanings of last wills and
lestanients, and turn legacies the wrong way, wrest-
ing them quite awry, like Grantham steeple.'
The third rank, quainter than the former, pre-
sents us with the race of lusty vaulting gallants,
that, instead of a French horse, practise upon their
mistresses all the nimble tricks of vaulting, and are
worthy to be made dukes for doing the somerset
so lively. This nest of gallants, for the natural
' parts that are in them, are maintained by their
drawn- work dames and their embroidered mis-
tresses, and can dispend their two thousand a-year
out of other men's cofTers ; keep at every heel a man,
beside a French lacquey (a great boy with a heard),
and an English page, which 6lls up the place of an
ingle;" ihey have their city-horse, which 1 may
well term their stone-horse, or their horse upon
the stones ; for indeed the city being the lusty
dame and mistress of the land, lays all her founda-
tion upon good Btone-work, and somebody pays
well for't where'er it lights, and might with less
cost keep London Bridge in reparations every fall
than mistress Bridget his wife; for women and
bridges always lack mending, and what the ad-
vantage of one tide performs comes another tide
presently and washes away. Those are your gen-
tlemen gallants that secth uppermost, and never
tin" gallopping till they run over into the fire ; so
gloriously accoutred that they ravish the eyes of
> Granlhan ilripU) " A litUc rait will make a salt [lall-
cellar] laoke like Granlham Sleeple with hii cap lo the Ale-
home." Dekker'i Ovlei Mmanaekt, 1618, p. 3a.
-' 'ngle] See note, voL i. p. 301.
' /,«] i.
534 THE BLACK BOOK.
all wanlons, and take itiem pnioncrs in their shops
will) a brisk suit of apparel ; they strangle aoA
diuke more velvet in a deep- pat he red hose" than
would serve to line through my lord What-call-ye-
liini's coach.
What need I inrcrP more of their prodigal glis-
terlngs and their spangled damnations, when these
are arguments auflicient to shew the ncallh of sin,
and how rich the sons and heirs ofTartary*) are!
And arc these so glorious, so flourishing, so hrim-
ful of golden Lucifers or light angels,' and ilioii
a pander and poor? a bawd and empty, apparelled
in villanous packthread, in a wicked suit of coarse
hop-bags, the wings' and skirts faced with the ruins
of dishclouts? Fie, I shame to see thee dressed up
so abominable scurvy ! Complainest thou of bad
doings, when there are harlots of all trades, and
knaves of all languages ? Knowest thou not that
sin may be committed cither in French, Dntch,
Italian, or Spanish, and all after the English
fashion 1 Dut thou excusest the negligence of thy
practice by the last summer's pestilence : alas, poor
shark-gull,' that put-oir is idle I for sergeant Car-
buncle, one of the plague's chief officers, dares not
within three yards of an harlot, because
Drybone, the Frenchman, is a leiger"
before him. At which speech the slave burst into
a melancholy laugh, which shewed for all the world
dF breeches. > il/'''] 1. c. bring ia.
I'artarus, hell. Compare quolstioo from
* hKtr] i. e.
' rarfaro]
Nuh, nole, p.
' angili] Sm nole, p. 20,
■ tcingi] " Lslcral promincnciei extending from «acb shoul-
der." Whaliey'e notn on B, JDiuon'a WorkM, vol. ii. p. 103,
«l. Oi«
* ihitrt-gulf] i e. one who preys on simpletoas.
* Itigtr] i.e. reodeal: see note, vol. il p. 31S.
THE BLACK BOOK.
525
like a sad tragedy with a clown in't ; and thus
began to reply: — I know not whether it be [a]
cross or a curse, noble Philip of Phlegethon, or
whether both, that I am forced to pink four ells
of bag to make me a sutnmer-auit ; but I protest,
what with this long vacation, and the fiilging of
gallants to Norfolk lind up and down countries.
Pierce was never so pennylcss as poor lieutenant
Prig beard.
With those words he put me in mind of him for
whom I chiefly changed myself into on ofKcious
constable, poor Pierce Pennyless: when presently
I demanded of this lieutenant the place of his
abode, and when he last heard of him {though I
knew well enough both where to hear ofhim and
find him) ; to which he made answer : Who, Pierce ?
honest Pennyless? he that writ the madcap's Sup-
plication ? why, my very next neighbour, lying
within three lean houses of me, at old mistress
Silverpin's, the only door-keeper" in Europe : why,
we meet one another every term-time, and shake
hands when the Exchequer opens ; but when we
open our bands, the devil of penny we can see.
With that I cheered up the drooping slave with
the aqua-vitse' of villany, and put him in excel-
lent comfort of my damnable legacy; saying I
would stuff him with so many wealthy instructions
that he should excel even Fandarua himself, and
go nine mile beyond him in pandarism, and from
thenceforward he should never know a true rascal
go under his red velvet slops," and a gallant bawd
indeed below her looae-bodied' satin.
■ ioar-kitptr] i. e. b«wd.
' aqaa-vilit) See note, vol. iii. p. 239.
' ilapi] i. e. bieechcj.
* htsi-bodied] See Dote, vol. i. p, 431.
526 THE BLACK BOOK.
This said, the slave hugged himself, and bussed
the bawd for joy : when presently I left them in the
midst of tlieir wicked smack, and descended to my
bill-men' that waited in the pernicious alley for
me, their master constable. And marching forward
to tlie third garden-house, there we knocked up
the ghost of mistress Silverpin, who suddenly rime*
out of two white sheets, and acted out of her tiring-
house'' window : but having understood who we
were, and the authority of our office, she presently,
even in her ghost's apparel, unfolded the doors
and gave me my free entrance ; when in policy I
charged the rest to stay and watch the house below,
whilst I stumbled up two pair of stairs in the dark,
but at last caught in mine eyes the sullen blaze of
a melancholy lamp that burnt very tragically upoa
the narrow desk of a half bedstead, which descried'
all the pitiful ruins throughout the whole chamber.
The bare privities of the stone-walls were hid with
two pieces of painted cloth,'' but so ragged and
tottered,' that one might have seen all nevertheless,
hanging for all the world like the two men in chains
between Mile-end and Hackney. The testem, or
the shadow over the bed, was made of four ells of
cobwebs, and a number of small spinner's -ropes
hung down for curtains: the spindle-shank spiders,
which shew like great lechers with little legs, went
■talking over his head as if they had been conning
of Tatnbarlaine.' To conclude, there was manjr
■ bill-men^ See note, p. £13. • rliii] i. t
* liring-kcmie'] i. e. dreuing-rooni, — in theilrical li
* dtictud ] i. e. diKovered.
' painlrd ehth} See nore, vol. iii. p. 97.
* loUertd'] i. e. Uttered.
' ai if thttj had bemconaing of Tamburtame^ From thi
mge Malone coujeclured Ibat [he plaj of Tambarlaimt,
nQy ucribed lo Marlowe, *u writlea either •hoUj'
THE BLACK BOOK. 527
audi sights to be aeen, and all under a penny,
beside tbe lamentable prospect of his hose' and
doublet, which, being of old Kendal - green, fitly
resembled a pitched field, upon which trampled
many a lusty corporal. In this unfortunate tiring-
house lay poor Pierce upon a pillow stuffed with
horse-meat; the sheets smudged so dirtily, as if
they had been stolen by nigbt out of Saint Pul-
cher's'' churchyard when the sexton had \e[t a
grave open, and so laid the dead bodies wool-ward :'
the coverlet was made of pieces a.' blaclc cloth
clapt together, such as was snatched off the rails
in KingVstreet at the queen's funeral. Upon this
miserable bcd's-head lay the old copy of his Sup-
plication, in foul-writien hand, which my black
Knight of the Post conveyed to hel! ; which no
sooner I entertained in my hand, but with the rat-
tling and blabbing of the papers poor Pierce began
lo stretch and grale his nose against the hard pil-
low ; when after a rouse or two, he muttered these
reeling words between drunk and sober, that is,
between sleeping and waking: — I should laugh,
i'faith, if for all this I should prove a usurer before
I die, and have never a penny now to set up withal.
1 would build a nunnery in Pict-haich' here, and
part by Hath.—Shaktipran {by Bosoell), vol. iii. p. 35T i but
Mr. J. P. Collier bas moaL saliifactarily abewn Ihac it waa tbe
work or the former ; aee Hiit. iff Engl Draw. Poilry, loL iJL
p. 113, iqq — The preienc tract, and [he one whicli fullowB it
{Falher Hxlihiii-iTi Tain), botli pubUihed in IGOt, prove ibil
* ' year: he ji here dcacribed (1 Tear too
tale of Bqualid poverty! in tbe next
I deceaBcd. ■ hoK} i. e. breeohes.
Comiplion of^njnr SfpulchrB't.
1, — nilhout linen (a nord ^oeralJy
II to clothed for penance or humi-
.1 eoimnenlatara on Shakeapeare'a
kM. 2, and Nirea'a Gtoii. in v.}
turn the walk in Paul's
would have the Thar
> into a bowling alley : I
I leaded over, that they
might play at cony-hnles wiih the arches under
London Bridge. Well (and wiib that he waked),
the devil is mad knave still.
How now. Pierce? quoih I, dost thou call me
knave to my face ? Whereat ihe poor slave starred
up with his hair n-tiptoe ; to whom by easy degrees
I gently discovered myself; wlio, trembling like the
treble of aluie under the heavy linger of a farmer's
daughter, craved pardon of my damnable excel-
lence, and gave me my titles as freely as if he had
known where all my lordships lay, and how many
acres there were in Tartary." But at the length,
having recovered to be bold again, he unfolded all
his bosom to me; told me that the Knight of Per-
jury had lately brought him a singed letter sent
from a damned friend of his, which was thus
directed as followeih,
from Slyx to n'owFi-clotc,
The n-atk of Plcl-holch.
After I saw poor Pennyless grow so well acquainted
with me, and so familiar with the viljany of my hu-
mour, 1 unlocked my determinations, and laid open
my intents; irt particular' the eaiiae of my uprising,
being moved both with his penetrable petition and
his insufferable poverty, and therefore changed my
ahape into a little wapper-eyed ■" constable, to wink
' Ihe u,M » Paul;] See noie. vol. i. p. 418
■ Tarlary} See note, p. 5H.
parlieular] Old rd. " partirulari."
- •Mpprr-^jrtd] ■■ Wapptr-tyed. Bore-eyeil." Grose'. C/o».
BicL off„/g. rov«-~" tyapp,r.,y,d. goggie-eyed. having
and blink at small faults, and ilirough the policy
of searching, lo lind him out ttie better in his cleanly
tabernacle ; and therefore gave him encouragement
now to be frolic, for the time was at hand, like a
pickpurse, that Pierce should be called no more
Pennyless, like the Mayor's bench at Oxford," but
rather Fierce Fennyfist, because his palm shall be
pawed with pence. This said, I bade him be
resolved and get up to breakfast, whilst I went to
gather my noise" of villains together, and made his
lodging my convocation -house. With that, in a
resulting humour, he called his hose^ and doublet
to bim (which could almost go alone, borne like a
hearse upon the legs of vermin), whilst I thumped
down stairs with my cow-heel, embraced mistress
Silverpin, and betook me to my bill-men ;i wben,
in a twinkling, before them all, I leapt out of master
constable's night-gown into an usurer's fusty furred
jacket; whereat the watchmen staggered, and all
their bills fell down in a swoon; when I walked
close by them, laughing and coughing like a rotten-
lunged usurer, to sec what Italian faces they all
made when they missed their constable, and saw
the black gown of his office lie full in a puddle.
Well, away I scudded in the musty moth-eaten
habit; and being upon Exchange- time, I crowded
full rolling tyet: or laoking like one Beared; or squinting
like a peraOD overtaken wiili Hijuoc." Vocab. lo jia Emtaor
Scalding, ed. 1S3<>,
' Ihe Maynr't bench at Oifard'] There was ■ public aeit al
Oi/otd " adjoining to the east end of Carfax Church " (Wm-
ton'i Conpniion to Iht Guidt, p. IS, aec. ed.), which bore the
name of Pennyleu- Bench.
° noiit] i e. band, company — properly, of muaiciana-, see
530 THE BI.ACE BOOK.
myself amongst merchants, poisoned all the Burse'
in a minute, and turned their faiths and troths into
curds and whey, making them snear that things
nnw which they forswore when the quarters struck
again ; for 1 was present at the clapping up of
every bargain, which did ne'er hold, no longer than
they held hands together. There I heard news out
of all countries, in all languages ; how many viU
lains' were in Spain, how many luxurs' in Italy,
how many perjurds in France, and how many reel-
pots in Germany. At last I met, at half-turn, one
whom I had spent mine eyes so long for, an hoary
money- master, that had been off and on some six-
and-fifty years damned in his coun ling-house, for
his only recreation was but to hop about the Burse
before twelve, to hear what news frnm the Bank,
and how many merchants were banqroui" the last
change of the moon. This rammish penny- father*
I rounded" in llie led car, winded in my intent, the
place and hour; which no sooner he sucked in, but
smiled upon me in French, and replied, —
O mounaicur Diabla,
I'll be chief guest at your tabia!
With that we shook hands, and, as we parted, I
■ ihe flurie] Meam here ihe Bojal Enchange : »ee noie,
p. 486.
• villahi'i Old ei. " VilUinies."
' Inxuri] i. 0. leihera,
■ banqrovt] i. e. bnnkrupl.
• peniij -/a/Aer] " /{ ptnaie -falhir, Vo hommG riclie el
chicbc" Cotgrne'i Did.
" Ranck ptay-faDuri scud (nith their halfe haiainet
Shadoving their caluet) to eaue their lUuer dammeB,
Al euery gun thev tiarl, tAti Trom the ground,
Onedrum can make a Ihouiand I'mnrstawoA [i.e. iiroon]."
Debker-i Wander/alt Yean, 1603, alg. B 3.
"■ raundtii] i. e. whiipered.
THE BLACK flOOK. 531
bade him bring master Cog-bill the scrivener along
nith him; and so 1 vanished ant of that dressing.
And passing through Birchin-tane, amidst a camp*
royal of hose and doublets (master Snip's backside
being turned where his face stood), I took excellent
occasion to slip into a captain's suit, a valiant buff
doublet, stuffed with points'' like a leg of it
with parsley, and a pair of velvet slops*
thick with lace, which
liker
igwo
i I
And thuf
ordine .
damned <
scored
nd about the hose
man scratch where
tred, taking up my
trust in tne same order at the next
inie 10, I marched to master Bezle's
here I found a whole dozen of my
w, sweating as much at dice as many
poor lauourers do with the casting of ditches ; when
presently I set in a stake amongst them: round it
went; but the crafty dice having peeped upon me
once, knew who I was well enough, and would
never have their little black eyes otTa' me all the
while afler. At last came my turn about, the dice
quaking in my fist before I threw them ; but when
I yerked them forth, away they ran like Irish
lacqueys' as far as their bones would suffer them,
I sweeping up all the stakes that lay upon the
table ; whereat some stamped, others swore, the
rest cursed, and all in general fretted to the gall
that a new-comer, as they termed me, should gather
in so many fifteens at the first vomit. Well, thus
it passed on, the dice running as false as the drabs
in Whiicfriars ; and when any one thought him-
self surest, in came I with a lurching cast, and
made them all swear round again ; but such
gunpowder oaths they were, that 1 wonder how
' poiniM] i. e. tagged Isoei. * j(opi] I. e. breecliei.
I IrUh tacqwst] Se« note, vol. iii. p. 131.
S32
TOE BLACK BOOK.
the ceiling held together vitbout spittiag mortar
upon them. Zounds, captain, swore ooe to me,
I think the devil be thy good lord and roaster.
True, thought I, and thou his geDileman- usher.
In conclusion, it fatted me better than twenty
eightecnpence ordinaries,'' to hear them rage, curse,
and swear, like so many eraperora of darkness.
And all these twelve were of twelve several com-
panies. There was your gallant extraordinary thief
that keeps his college of good -fellows,' and will not
fear to rob a lord in his coach for all his ten
trencher -bearers on horseback; your deep-con-
ceited culpurse, who by the dexterity of his knife
will draw out the money, and make a flame-coloured
purse shew like the bottomless pit, but with never
a soul in't; your cheating bowler, that will bask
false of purpose, and lose a game of twelvepence to
purchase his partner twelve shillings in bets, and
so share it atler the play; your cheveril -gutted
catchpoll, who like a horse-leech sucks gentlemen:
and, in all, your twelve tribes of villany; who no
sooner understood the quaint form of such an un-
customed legacy, but they all pawned their vicious
golls* to meet there at the hour prefixed; and to
confirm their resolution the more, each slipped down
his stocking, baring hia right knee, and so began
to drink a health half as deep as mother Hubburd's
cellar, — she that was called in 'Tor selling her work-
ing bottle-ale to bookbinders, and spurting the
froth upon courtiers' noses. To conclude, 1 was
their only captain (for so tbey pleased to title me);
' riglileenptiiet orrfinorwi] See note, vol. i. p. 389.
■ goad-Jellnicil A ctnl term for thieves.
■ galU^ A cant term for banda, — tiala, paws.
■■ iht Ihal umi called in] Set nat« on tbe address " To the
Readdr" prefixed to the Mioviiag pieta.
THE BLACK BOOK. 533
and so they all risse,'' poculh inanibiuqtte applauding
my news ; then the hour being more than once and
once reiterated, we were all at our hands again,
and so departed.*^
I could tell now that I was in many a second
house in the city and suburbs afterward, where my
entertainment was not barren, nor my welcome
cheap or ordinary; and then how 1 walked in
Paul's'* to see fashions, to dive into villanous meet-
ings, pernicious plots, black humours, and a million
of mischiefs, which are bred in that cathedral womb
and born within less thnn forty weeks after. But
some may object and say, What, doth the devil
walk in Paul's then ? Why not, sir, as well as a
sergeant, or a ruffian, or a murderer 7 May not the
devil, I pray you, walk in Paul's, as well as the
horse' go a' top of Paul's? for 1 am sure 1 was not
far from his keeper. Pooh, 1 doubt, where there is
no doubt ; for there is no true critic indeed that
will carp at the devil.
Now the hour posted onward to accomplish the
effects of my desire, to gorge every vice full of
poison, that the soul might burst at the last, and
vomit out herself upon blue cakes of brimstone.
When returning home for the purpose, in my cap-
<• riiu] i.e. rose. ' dfparlid] i.e. parted.
' valted in Pai.ri] See Dole, Tol. i. p. 418.
■ llu heric, &c.] To the wouderrul fioru, called Morocco.
are msnf ■lliuioni in uur old tnileri; nor ii ihii the onljr
menlioD of his having gone up (o the top of St. Paul's church,
— a feat xhich, according to Dekker, took place in 1600:
" Since (he dancing horse stood on the lop oF Powles, whilit
a number of Aues Blood braying belowi — IT [years]." A m-
morial ^e. •atlilt Ihii yearr, \6\1—Tht OkIhi Alma«Klie, 161t),
p. 7. — Boih the hone and hii mastn, whose nsme oaa Banks,
are aaid lo have been biirnad at Home ss magicians. See
more dd this aulyeel in the notes of the commentalora on
Shakespeare'! Loa'i Labtmr'i Loll, act i. ic. 3, and io Douce'*
lUutl. if ShakHp<ari, vol. i. p. 212.
534
Iain's apparel of buff* and velvet, I struck mine
hostess into admiration at my proper* appearance,
for my polt-foot' was helped out with bumbast ;
properly which many worldlings use whose toes
are dead and rotten, and therefore so stuff out
their shoes like the comers of wool packs.
Well, into my tiring-house* I went, where I bad
scarce shiAed myself into the apparel of my last
will and tesiatneni, which was the habit of a covet-
ous barn-cracking farmer, but all my striplings of
perdition, my nephews of damnation, my kindred
snd alliance of viltany and sharking, were ready
before the hour to receive my bottomless blessiDg,
When entering into a country night-gown, with a
cap of sickness about my brows, I was led in between
Pierce Pennyless and his hostess, like a feeble farmer
ready to depart England and sail to the kingdom of
Tartary ;'' who setting me down in a wicked chair,
all my pernicious kinsfolks round about me, and
the scrivener between my legs (for he loves always
to sic in the devil's cot-house], thus with a whey-
count en ancc, short stops, and earthen dampish
voice, the true counterfeits of a dying cullion,' I
proceeded to the black order of my legacies.
Thi- /as
fill ,
id testament of Lawrence Luc'ifcr, the
■callhy iHichelor of LimboJ
Dick Devil-barn, the griping farmer of Kent.
In the name of Beile-bub, Amen.
I, Lawrence Lucifer, alias Dick Devil-barn, sick
' praptr} i. e. handioins. ' piill-/tBl'\ i. e. club-foot,
s lirwg-hmte'j See note, p. 526,
' " lary] Sen note, p. S24.
' nrfjonj i. e. acaundrel, abjec
' Liabo' See nole, p. SM.
THE BLACK BOOK.
535
n aoul, but not in body, being in perfect health to
Ticked memory, do constitute and ordain this ray
ast will and testament irrevDcable, aa long as the
world shall be trampled on by villany.
ce Lucifer, bequeath my soul
□ the earth : amongst you all
e equally, hut with as much
X pray ; and it will be the
o h'^fl'
and my body t(
me, and shar
L Png-
r of all
belter If you go lo law for n
As touching my
and bequeath then-
lowing :
First, I constitute and ordain Lieulei
beard, arcbpander of England, my sole heir o
such lands, closes, and gaps as lie within the bounds
of my gift ; beside, I have certain housea, tene-
ments, and withdrawing- rooms in Shoreditch, Tun-
bold-atreet," Whitefriars, and Westminster, which
I freely give and bequeath to the aforesaid lieutenant
and the bnae heirs truly begot of his villanousbody ;
with this proviso, that he sell none of the land
when he lacks money, nor make away any of the
houses, lo impair and weaken the stock, no, not
so much as to alter the property of any of them,
which is, to make them honest against their wills,
but to train and muster his wits upon the Mile-end
of his mazzard,' rather to fortify the tcrritoriea of
Tu n bold - street and enrich the county of Pict-
hatch"' with all hia vicious endeavours, golden en-
ticements, and damnable practices. And, lieutenant,
thou must dire, as thou useat to do, into landed
novices, who have only wit to be lickerish and no
' Tuibold-ilrtcl} Or Tvrahatl-ih
' matiard'] 1. e. head.
" Pht-kalch] Set note, p. 612.
t, p. sn.
S36 THE BLACK BOOK.
more, that so their tenants, trotting up to London
with their quartridges, they may pay them the rent,
but thou and ihy college shall receive the money.
Let no young wriggle-eyed damosel, if her years
have struck tvrelve once, be left unassaulted, but
it must be thy oHice to lay hard siege [o her honesty,
and to try )f the walls of her maidenhead may be
scaled with a ladder of angels ;° fnr one acre of
such wenches will bring in more st year's end than
a hundred acres of the best harrowed land between
Deptford and Dover. And take this for a note by
the way.^you must never walk without your deuce
or deuce-ace of drabs af\er your boot-heels ; for
when you are abroad, you know not what use yon
may have for them. And, lastly, if you be well-
feed by some riotous gallant, you must practise, as
indeed you do, to wind out a wanton velvet-cap
and bodkin from the tangles of her shop, teaching
her — you know how — to cast a cuckold's mist be-
fore llie eyes of her husband, which is, telling him
she must see her cousin new-come to town, or that
she goes to a woman's labour," when tbou knowcst
well enough she goes to none but her own. And
being set out of the shop, with her man afore her,
to quench die jealousy of tier husband, she, by thy
instructions, shall turn the honest, simple fellow off
at the next turning, and give him leave to see The
Merry Dead of Edmonton,^ or A Woman killed with
' mgeW] See note, p. 20.
° or that ihe gaei lo a wonaa'i (oioiir] Compare (see note,
p, 514) our auihor'i Trick la caleh Ihe OU One,
" Feigning excuse to women's labouni,
When we are leuC for to th' next neighbour's."
Vol. ii, p. 97.
t Tht Mtmj Devil bJ td»mtm\ Thii comedy, which wai,
and deserved la lie, exlremely popular, may be Jbuod in
Dodiley'i QH Plasi, Tol. v. lut ed. Mr. J. P. Colher (Hiil.
THE BLACK BOOK. S3?
Kindnets,'^ when his mistress is going herself to the
same murder. Thousand of such inventions, prac-
ticea, and devices, 1 stufi* thy trade withal, beside
the luxurious'' meetings at taverns, ten-pound sup-
pers, and tifteen-pound reckonings, made up after-
wards with riotous eggs and muscadine. All these
female vomits and adulterous surfeits 1 give and
bequeath to thee, which I hope thou wilt put in
practice with all expedition after my decease; and
^Engl. Dram. Pott.) nicribei it uiiheiitatingly lo Dreyton,
probably on lome authorit)' (beaidu tluc of (>li]yij nhicb I
do not recoil ecu
Tbe following puugfl o( The Mirry Devil qf Edmonton hu
puzzled the edilora (who, by the by, choose (a print it ai
vene) : " How now, my old Jenertt bmk, mg hortt, my caitle i
lie ID Waltham all night, and not under the canopy of your
hoit Blague-B home T " Steeveni (Dodaley's Old Playt, vol. v.
p. 2e7. lait ed.) Bsya, " I once luipecled Ihii paaaage of cor-
ruption, but have (bund reaaon to change my opinion. The
Bierry Host leems nitling to auemble ideas expresaiie of Iratt
and confidence. The old ijuarloa begin the word^tnrrt with a
capital letter I and, therefore, Ke may auppoae 'Jenerl'i bank'
to have been the shop of some banker, in wboie poisesilon
money could be deposited with security. Tbe Irish atill *ay
— B» sure aa Sarfon'. Bank; aud our countrymen — aa »afe B«
the Bank qf England. We might read 'myhoaie' inllead of
' my horn,' u the former agrees better mlh ' caalle.' The
aervices of a Astr are of all things the moat uncertain."
Narea (Gloii. in v. Jenerl'i Ba«k) observea, "It baa been
conjeetured that there was a bank called Jenerl'i, ao famoua
aa to be prevcrbial for lecurity ; but it remaina lo be shewn
that any country-bank eiialed in (he aevenleenlh century,
much more that they nere lo common aa for one to be famoua
above the rest. . . . Can it bo a roiipriot for ' Ertnen'i bank,'
or the old Roman road paaaing through Edmonton, which
might have been written ' Irminl'a!'" — I believe we ought
to read; "How now, my oldj'ennrfi [i.e. cavaliera, for ao the
word iiaomelimes uiedj, bauk [i.e. balk] my Aouii, my caatle I
lie in Wallbam," &c.
« A Jfonon kilhd wllh Kmdntu'} The maalerpieee of Hey-
wood t reprinted in Dodaley'a Old Playi, vol. vii. last ed.
* Jamriou] i. e. luttful.
638
to ibat end I ordain thee wholly and solely my only
absolute, excellent, villanoua heir.
Hem, I give anil bequeath to you, Gregory Gaunt-
let, high thief on horseback, all such sums of money
that are nothing due lo you, and to receive them
in, whether the parties he willing to pay you or
no. You need not make many words with theiu,
but only these two, Stand and deliver! and there-
fore a true thief cannot choose but be wise, because
he is a man of so very few words.
I need not instruct you, 1 think, Gregory, about
the politic searching of crafly carriers' packs, or
ripping up the bowels of wide boots and cloak-
bags ; I do not doubt but you have already exer-
cised them all. But one thing I especially charge
you of, the neglect of which makes many of your
religion tender their winepipes at Tyburn at least
three months before their day ; thai if you chance
to rob a virtuous townsman on horseback, with his
wife upon a pillion behind him, you presently speak
them fair to walk a turn or two st one side, where,
binding them both together, like man and wife, arm
in arm very lovingly, be sure you tie them hard
enough, for fear they break the bonds of matri-
mony, which, if it should fall out so, the matter
would lie sore upon your necks the next sessions
afler, because your negligent tying was the cause
of that breach between them.
Now, as for your Welsh hue and cry — the only
net to catch thieves iu — I know you avoid well
enough, because you can ahih both your beards
and your towns well ; but for your better dis-
1 henceforwai ■ ' ■■ -
n
maker of n'
hai
> for
devi
i that makes all the false
, and all the periwigs that are
Q by old courtiers, who take it for a pride i)
THE BLACK BOOK. 539
their bald days to wear yellow curls on their fore-
heads, when one may almost eee the sun go to bed
through the chinks of their faces.
Moreover, Gregory, because I know ihec toward
enough, and thy arms full of feats, I make thee
keeper of Combe Park,* sergeant of Salisbury Plain,
warden of ihe sianding-placea, and lastly, constable
of all heaths, holes, highways, and cony -groves,
hoping that thou wilt execute these places and
offices as truly as Derrick' will execute his place
and office at Tyburn.
Item, 1 give and bequeath to thee, Dick Dogman,
grand catchpoll — over and above thy barcbone fees,
that will scarce hang wicked flesh on thy back — all
such lurches, gripes, and squeezes as may be wrung
out by the fist of extortion.
And because I take pity on thee, waiting so long
as thou usesc (o do, ere ihou canst land one fare at
■he Counter, watching sometimes ten hours together
in an ale-house, ever and anon peeping forth and
saTnpling thy nose with the red lattice;" let him
whosoever that falls into thy clutches at night pay
well for thy standing all day : and, cousin Richard,
when thou hast caught him in the mousetrap of thy
liberty with the cheese of thy office, the wire of
thy hard fist being clapt down upon his shoulders,
and the back of his estate almost broken to pieces,
then call thy cluster of fellow- vermins together,
and sit in triumph with thy prisoner at the upper
end of a tavern-table, where, under the colour of
shewing him favour (as you term it) in waiting
for bail, thou and thy counter-leech may swallow
• Combe Park^ See note, vol, ii. p. 26*.
• Dirrick'] Seeime, p. B\S.
• Tti lallicr] i. e. laittce painlvd red ; Ihe usual dlitiaclion
o(an ile-houM: (it wui«ineiini» of other coloura).
540 THE BLACK BOOK.
down six gallons of Charnieo,' and then begin lo
chafe that he makes you stay so long before Peier
Bail" comes. And here ii will not be ainiss if you
call in more wine-Buekera, and damn as many gal-
lons again, for you know your prisoner's ransom
will pay for all ; this is, if the |)arty be flush now,
and would not have his credit coppered with a
scurvy counter.'
Another kind of rest you have, which is called
shoepenny — that is, when you will be paid for
every stride you take; and if ihe channel be dan-
gerous and rough, you will not step over under a
noble ;" a very excellent lurch to get up the price
of your legs between Paul's-chain and Ludgale.
But that which likes* me beyond measure is the
villanous nature of that arrest which I may fitly
term by the name of cog-shoulder, when you clap
a" both sides like old Rowse'' in Cornwall, and
receive double fee both from the creditor and the
debtor, swearing by the post of your oflice to
ahoulder-clap the party the first time he lights upon
the limetwigs of your liberty ; when for a little
usurer's oil you allow him day hy day free passage
to walk by the wicked precinct of your noses, aod
yet you will pimple your souls with oaths, til! you
make them as well-favoured as your faces, and
swear he never came within the verge of your eye-
' CADi-mVo] See nale, vol. iii. p. 213.
» PflerBaii] In using the n^mt ■' Pe
to have allempled a sort of jest, perhap
brated pentnan, Peler Bales, wbo a m
er" ihe auth
alluding lo 1
etuioned iti
^'"c™(«r] A play oti the meaning,
piece of money uied for recUouing, and
" Boi/.] See note, p. 287.
fthe vord,-
a prison.
• liki,] I e. pleases.
' old «™..c] Perhap. some Cornish b
roller.
THE BLACK DOOK. 541
lida. Nay, more, if the creditor were preient to
see bim arrested on the one aide, and the party
you not on over tlie way at the other side, you
have such quaint shifla, pretty hinderances, and
most lawyer-like delays, ere you will set forward,
that in the meantime he may make himself away
in some by-alley, or rush into the bowels of some
tavern or drinking- school ; or if neither, you will
find talk with some sbark'shif^ by the way, and
give him the marks of the party, who will presently
start before you, give the debtor intelligence, and so
a rotten fig for the catchpoll ! A most witty, smooth,
and damnable conveyance!* Many such cunning
devices breed In the reins of your offices beside. I
leave to speak of your unmerciful dragging a gen-
tleman through Fleet-street, to the utter confusion
of his white feather, and the lamentable spattering
of his pearl-colour silk stockings, especially when
some six of your black dogs of Newgate ' are upon
* cmMyanci] See note, p. £17.
■ black dogi^Smgale] Atracl,p«lly verfeindparttyproie,
called The Bttrkt Doggi t/NtwgaIr .• both pithk and profitahlt for
all Rtadert. /.mibii. 410. n. d. (reprinted with some addirioni
and alterationB in 163S), wu written, or il kait profciacE to
be wrillen, by Luke Hulton, who. for Tobberiei and treapamea,
irss hanged at York in 169S. Under the lille of Flu Black
Dog <if ^Itiegatt, it waa the aulhor*! deeign lo " ahadoir the
knauerie, tillanie, robberie, and Cuniii catch ins, commilled
daily by diuera, who in the name of aeruice and olHce, were
■a it were, itleodants si Newgale." fijg. d 3. " They wilt
vndertake if a man be robd by the way, ihey will helpe the
party oOended to hia money againe, or to ihe theeuri al the
of Plate Btole, [hey will promiae the lifcei tuaiy, to further
ihia SDod peece of Beniice, they mual haue a Warrant pro-
cured from aome Justice at the leaat, ihat by Ihe aayd general
Warram, Ihey may lake ip al) aiiipected persona : whicb
being obieined, then marke how notably therewith they play
VOL. v. 3 A
512
TUB BLACK BOOK.
him at once. Therefore, aweet cousm Richard (for
you are the nearcBt kineman 1 have), I give and
bequcaib to you no more (han you hare already ;
Tor you are ao well gorged and stuSed nith that,
thai one spoonful of villany more would overlay
your stomach quite, and, I fear me, make you kick
up all the rest.
Iteni, I give and bequeath to you, Benedick Bot-
tomlesa, tnoat deep cutpurie, all the benefit of
pageant-days, great market-days, ballat- placet,'*
but eapecially the sixpenny roomB in play~houaes,
to cut, dive, or nim, with as much speed, art, antl
dcKterity, as may be handled by honest rogues of
thy quality. Nay, you shall not stick. Benedick,
to give a shave of your office at Paul's-cross in the
sermon-lime : but thou boldest it a thing thou
mayest do by law, to cut a purse in Westminster
Hall ; true, Denedick, if thou be sure the law be
on that side thou cuttest it on.
Item, I cive and bequeath to you, old Bias, alias
Hutnfrey Hollowbank, true cheating bowler and
lurcher, the one half of all false bets, cunning
hooks, subtle ties, and cross-lays,' that arc ven-
tured upon the landing of your bowl, and the safe
arriving at the haven of the mistress,'* if it chance
to pass all the dangerous rocks and ruba of the
ihc koaufi, how ■lixmerullf they sbuie ihe Jiuliccs who
giBunted the Warraal, and hoo noloriouilie (hcf abuse ■
^teaison ofpoore men, who neither the Warrant meDbonelb,
nor the par^e ajireeued in any wjae ihDugbl id molen or
iTouble." Sig. D 3. He then proceeds lo give Hveral in-
sisncea vf ilieir various hnaveriea.
^ ballal-placta] i. e,, I BUppoic, placei whore ballad* are
snug.
* erou-laut] 1. 1. chttlitif! wageri.
* tuilreti] Comjtare p. IS, and note.
THE BLACK BOOK. 543
allejr, and be not choked in the sand, like a mer-
chant's ship before it cornea half-way home, which
is none of your fault (you'll say and swear), although
in your own turned conscience you know that you
threw it above three yards short out of hand, upon
very set purpose.
Moreover, Humfrey, I give you the lurching of
all young novices, citizens' sons, and country gen-
tlemen, that are hooked in by the winning of one
twelvepenny game at first, lost upon policy, to be
cheated of twelve pounds' worth a,' bets afterward.
And, old Bias, because thou art now and then smelt
out for a corener, I would have thee sometimes go
disguised (in honest apparel), and so drawing in
amongst bunglers and keOers* under the plain frieze
of simplicity, thou mayest Rnely couch the wrougbt-
V el vet of knavery.
Item, I give and bequeath to your cousin-german
here, Francis Fingcrfalse, deputy of dicing-houses,
all cunning lifts, shifts, and couches, that ever were,
are, and shall be invented from this hour of eleven-
clock upon black Mondiiy, until it smite twelve a'
clock at doomsday. And this I know, Francis,
if you do endeavour to excel, as I know you do,
and will truly practise falsely, you may live more
gallanter far upon three dice, than many of your
foolish heirs about London upon thrice tliree hun-
dred acres.
But turning my legacy to you-ward, Barnaby
Burning-glass, arch-lobacco-taker of England, in
• ktlleril Compare Father HubburiTi Talet, which rallovs
the preunt trace ; " like bd old cunning bowler (o fetch in a
young kelUug gtmetter :" but I do not undiTslaod ihis cuit
term, nor Ihe words "couch" and " couches" which [iretentlj
occut above.
544
fBE BI^CK BOOK.
ordinariei, upon Blagess both commoD and private,
and IsEtly, in the lodging of your drab and mis-
tresB ; I am not a little proud, I can tell you. Bar-
naby, that you dance af^eT my pipe so long, and
for all counterblasiB '' and lobacco-N ashes' (which
■ome call railers), you are not blown away, nor
your Rery thirst quenched with the small penny-
ale of their contradictions, but still suck that dug
of damnation with a long nipple, still burning that
rare Phicnix of Phlegethon, tobacco, that from her
ashes, burned and knocked out, may arise another
pipeful. Therefore 1 give and bequeath unto thee
a breath of all religions save the true one, and
lasting of all countries save his' own ; a brain well
sooted, nhere the Muses bang up in the smoke like
red herrings; and look bow the narrow alley of
thy pipe shews in the inside, so shall alt the pipes
through thy body. Besides, I give and bequeath to
thee " lungs as smooth as jet, and just of the same
colour, that when thou art closed in thy grave, the
worms may be consumed with them, and take them
for black puddings.
Lastly, not least, I give and bequeath to thee.
Pierce Pennyless, exceeding poor scholar, tliat hath
made clean shoes in both universities, and been a
pitiful battler' all thy lifetime, full oflen heard
'lagti] Tobacco wu oflen ti
JkmeB. J Catnttrblail It Tobacen.
' lel>acio-tfothti} See p. 6G1, line 6.
> Ail] Qy. •'ihy"f— ^A friend auggeiii ih»t "hjiown" may
be ■ reverentUl mode of expreuing " Ooi't."
' rt«] Old sd. " thy."
' a piitful tariler] " Though in the meanest condition of
THB BUCK SOOX.
045
TTith thii laroeniable cry at the buttery-hatch, Ho,
Launcelot, a cue " of bread, and a cue of beer !
never passing beyond the confiDes of a farthing,
nor once munching commons but only upon gaudy-
daya;' to thee, most miserable Pierce, or pierced
through and through with misery, I bequeath the
tithe of all vaulilug'-houaes,'' the tenth dealer of
each heigh, pass, come aloft I beside the playing in
and out of all wenches at thy pleasure, which 1
know, as thou mayest use it, will be such a fluent
pension, that thou ahalt never have ne«d to write
Suppliealion again.
Now, for the especial trust and contidence I have
in both you, Mihell" Moneygod, usurer, and Leo-
nard Lavender, broker or pawn-lender, I make you
two my full executors to the true disposing of all
these my hellish intents, wealthy viUanics, and most
pernicious damnable legacies.
And DOW, kinsmen and friends, wind about me ;
my breath begins to cool, and all my powers to
freeze ; and I can say no more to you, nephews,
than 1 have said, — only this, I leave you all, like
ratsbane, to poison the realm. And, I pray, be all
of you as arrant villains as you can be ; and so
farewell ; he all hanged, and come down to me as
This said, he departed to his molten kingdom :
thoie that were wholly maintained [in the Univeraitj or Ox-
Tord] b; (heir parents, a balllir or temi-commoDer," Sic. Lift
Iff Bf. Eimelt, p. 4 — ciled by Todd ( Jobnioa'a Diet.) in v.
' cii(] L e. amall porlion. " Cue, balfe a farlhing, ao called
becauie they ael dowa in the Battling or Butlerie Books in
Oxford and Cambridge the letter q. for balfe a farthing," &c. ;
see Minsbeu'a Qaidt Mo Tinigiui, in v.
' gatidy-dayt\ L e. feativali.
" BouWiiw-iMwei] i. c, broihela.
■ JtfifeHjQy. "Michael":
the wind tiue," the bottom of tbe cbaii finr ear,
the scrivener fell flu upon hk Doae; and beie ia
the end of a barmleaa monl.
Now, air, what ia ^our censort' now? jxtn bxre
read me, I am aure ; am 1 black enough, ihink joa,
dreased up in a laating suit of ink F do I dcserre
my dark and pitchy title ? stick I close enoi^li
to a villain'* riba ? is not Luciier liberal lo fata
DepheWB in this his last will and lestam^tii ? Me-
thiiiks I hear you say nothing ; and therefore I
know you are pleased and agree to all, for qui lam,
amtenlire viJetur ; aiid I allow you wise and truly
judicious, because you keep your censure to your-
self.
FATHER HUBBURiyS TALES;
OE,
THE ANT AND THE NIGHTINGALE.
^
Falitr HubbMriU TaleM.- or The Ant, and the NighliiigaU.
Lomloti PriiHid by T. C./or WWIam CeUem, and are to he taUt
at hit Shop Ktare adiognbtg ta Ludgate. 1S01. 4lD.
The fint edition of Ihii iTBCt, in which Kverai lersM and
the whole of " The Ant's Tale when he wu > Bcholai" are
omitted, made its appearanoe during the aame year in 4lo,
entitled Tht Ant and Ih4 Ntgliling<at : or Falhir Hubtmrdi
Tattt. trndoa Prinltd by T. C.far Tho: BulhtU, and art to be
.Me by Jrfrtg Chorltm. at hU Shop at Iht North doere of PmUi.
Mr. J. P. Collier (BrUgiwaltr-Hoiue Catalogue, p. 199) men-
tions it aa the hcmij edition; but a careful examinatiDn of
both the impresiioni has convinced me that it ii thejfrif.
Taylor, the water-poet, in a " Preamble" to The Praiie 4
Hempiced (Rnt printed in 1620), thus alludes to the present
Ta the trve general patron of all Mutet, MiMcians,
Poela, and Picture ' dra-wera, Sia Chaistopheb
CLDTCHyisT, knighted at a very hard pmnyworth,
neither Jar eating niusk-mehru, anehoviei, or axei-
are, hat for a coilRer eTploii and a hundred-pound
feat o/amu, Olitbr HuBsuttD, brother to the nine
waiting-gentleioomen the Muset, truJieth the decrease
ofhii lands and the inercate of Ids legs, that kit calvei
may hang damn Uke gtamuhoet.'
Most guerdonlest sir, pinching patron, and the
Muses' bail paymaster, thou that owest for all the
pamphlets, histories, and translations that ever bave''
been dedicated to thee since thou wert one and
twenty, and couldst make water upon thine own
lands : but beware, sir, you cannot carry it away so,
I can tell you, for all your copper-gilt spurs and
your brood of feathers ; for there are certain line-
sharkers that have coursed the countries to seek
you out already, and they nothing doubt but to find
you here this Candlemas-term ; which, if it should
fall out BO — as 1 hope your worship is wiser than
to venture up so soon to the chambers of London —
they have plotted together with the best common
play-plotter in England to arrest you at the Muses'
suit — though they shoot short of them — and to set
one of the sergeants of poetry, or rather the Poultry,'=
to claw you by the back, who, with one clap on
your shoulder, will bruise all the taffeta to pieces.
■ gamatlu€t'] Are Tariomly explained — ihort fpBtlerdashsi,
and coane cloth tiockings ihal bultan over otber itochingi,
' iBKl Ed». •• hath."
* pBUllrii] i. e. Ibe Counter prison in tlie Foulcrf.
552
Now vbat the matter is between you, you know
best yourself, air ; only I hear that they rait against
Jou in booksellers' shops very dreadfully, that you
ave used them most unbniglitly, in offering lo lake
their books, and nould never return so much sb
would pay for the covers, beside the gilding too,
which stands them in somewhat, you know, and a
yard and a quarter of broad sixpenny ribband ; the
price of that you are not ignorant of yourself, be-
cause you wear broad shoe-string ; and they cannot
be persuaded but that you pull the strings off from
their books, and so maintain your shoes all the
year long ; and think, verily, if the book be in folio,
that you take off the parchment, and give it to your
tailor, but save all the gilding together, which may
amount in time to gild you a pair of spurs withal.
Such are the miserable conceits they gather of you,
because you never give the poor Muse-suckers a
penny ; wherefore, if 1 might counsel you, sir, the
next time they came with their gilded dedications,
you should take the books, make your men break
their pates, then give them ten groats a-piece, and
so drive them away.
Your woiship'f.
If yon embrace my counsel,
Oliver HtrBsusD,
TO THE READER.
Shall I tell you what, reader? — but first I should
call you gentle, courteous, and wise ; but 'tis no
matter, they're but foolish words of course, sod
better lell out than printed ; for if you be so, you
need not be called so; and if you be not so, there
were law against me for calling you out of your
names: — by John of Paul's- church yard,' I swear,
and [hat oath will be taken at any haberdasher's,
I never wished this book better fortune than to
fall into the hands of a true-spelling printer, and
an honest-minded'' boDkaeller; andif honesty could
be sold by the bushel like oysters, I had rather have
one Bushel' of honesiv than three of money.
Why I call these Father Huhbard't Tales, is not
to have them called in again, as the Tale of Mother
Hubburd:' the world would shew little judgment
< John of Paul' I CImrchyard] Wa9. 11 appeari frum thiB
puiage. a habpTduhcr; he ii again mentioned in the present
iricL Thai he lold bati, tre are infarmed by more than one
oldwrilert lo Dekker; " John in Paul'i churchjard shall fit
his head for an excellent block [j. e. hit]." Tht Guiri Hom-
beali, 16U9, p. 04, reprint
' hBHtil-miaileii] Fint ed. " Asnof-atitching." — perhapa
the belter reading.
• Buihil^ An allusion to Tbomai Buaheti, for whom the
flrat ed. of Ihia tract was printed, ice p. 349, and title-page of
Mkro-cynicoa, p. 481.
' Talt qf MQthtr Hubburd, &c.] In the Bridgtwaltr-ISBHtt
Calalogut this paaaage is quoted by Mr. J. P. Collier, who
obierveG, " If it do not ahew that Spenser's ' MotUec Hub-
berd's Tale' was ' called in afcain,' it proves thai obalruction
«s< offered hi; public authorities to some nibaequent pro-
duction under the same name," p. 30(). — Aisuredly the allu-
sion is not to Spenser'a poem : in it the " sp« " indeed llgurea
conipicuoualy, but there \i no mention of "rugg^ bears," or
" the lamentable downfal of the old wife's platlera."
S54
in that, i'fsilh ; and I should say then, plena stulio-
rum omnia; for I entreat* here neither of rugged"
bears or apes, no, nor the lamentable downfal of
the old wife's platters, — I deal with no such tnetal:
what is mirth in me, is as harmless as the quarter-
jacks in Paul's, that are up with their elbows' four
times an hour, and yet misuse no creature liring;
the very bitterest in me is but like a physical frost,
that nips the wicked blood a little, and so makes
the whole body the wholesomer : and none can justly
except at me but some riotous vomiting Kit,' or
some gentleman-swallowing malkin. Then, to con-
demn these Tales following because Father Hub-
burd tells them in the small size of an ant, is even
as much as if these two words, God and Devil, were
primed both in one line, to skip it over and say that
line were naught, because the devil were in it.
Sal sapienii; and I hope^ there be many wise men
in all the twelve Companies.'
If you read without spelling or hacking,
T. M.
««.r«,ni.e.lre.L
' "'ggfd) So fint ed. Sec ed. " Ragged."
' lit quarliT-jacki in PauTiilhnI art up tcilh iStir tllmii/i] Cvai-
pare Dekker's GulFi Hornlaok. 1G09, '• If Fnul't jacks btf oi
up with tbeir elbooa, and quarrelling to ttribe elevrn "
rcpriol. The figures wliicb in old pubJic clocki ati
bell on [be ouliide were called JaelrM iff Ibt elnck or eisec-
houie: many rpaderi will recollvci ihme Bbich a few jean
ago were to be seen nl Sc Dunstan'a Church, Fleet-itreeL
> A'l'M A fi-iend queriea if ibere be not here an alluaian to
Kit Marlowe!
■> Sat lapuHli : imi I hupe, &c.] So our author {■«« nolr.
f. S\i) in the Induction to Mickaelpiaa Tern ; " Sat rapienif .
hope there's no fooli i' ih' houae," vol i. p, 418.
' Ctmpanht^ So flrit ed. Sec ed. " Compauie."
" p- 96,
ocklbe
THE ANT AND THE NIGHTINGALE.
1 HE wesl-se& s goddesa in a crimson robe.
Her temples circled with a coral wreath.
Waited her love, the lightener of earth's globe:
The wanton wind did on her bosom breathe ;
The nymphs of springs did hallow'd' water pouf;
Whate'er was cold help'd to make cool her bower.
And now the fiery horses of the Sun
Were from their golden- flaming car untrac'd,
And all the glory of the day was done.
Save here and there some light moon-clouds en
A parti- colour'd canopy did spread
Over the Sun and Thetis' amorous bed.
Now had the shepherds folded in their flocks,
The sweating teams uncoupled from their yokes :
The wolf sought prey, and the sly-murdering fox
Attempts to steal; fearless of rural strokes,
All beasts took rest that liv'd by labouring toil ;
Only such rang'd as had delight in spoil.
Now in the pathless region of the air
The winged passengers had \eit to soar.
Except the bat and owl, who bode sad care,
And Philomel, that nightly doth deplore.
In soul' contenting tunes, her change of shape.
Wrought first by perfidy and lustful rape.
' kalloa'd'i Eds. " hollowed."
56d FATHER BDBBDKD's TALB£.
This poor musician, sitting all alone
On a green hawihorn from the thunder ble«
Carols in varied notes her antique motin.
Keeping a sharpen'd briar against her breast :
Her innocence this watchful pain doth take.
To shun the adder and the speckled snake.
These two, like her old foe the lord of Thrace,
Regardless of her dulcet-changing song,
To serve their onn lust have her life in chase ;
Virtue by vice is ofFer'd endless wrong:
Beasts are not all to blame, for now and then
We see the like attempted amongst men.
Under the tree whereon the poor bird sat,
There was a bed of busy-toiling; ants,
That in their summer winter's comfort gat,
Teaching poor men how to shun ailer-w
Whose rules if sluggards could be leam'd to keep,
Tliey should not starve awake, lie cold asleep.
f these busy brethren, having done
B day's true labour, got upon the tree,
And with his little nimble legs did run ;
Pleas'd with the hearing, he desir'd to see
Wliat wondrous creature nature had compos'd.
In whom such gracious music was enclos'd.
He got too near; for the mistrustful bird
GucBs'd him to be a spy from her known foe :
Suspicion argues not to bear a word:
What wise msn fears not that's inur'd to woe ?
Then blame not her she caught him in her beak.
About to kill him ere the worm"' could speak.
" tffwBi] Equivalent to— wretch, poor creature.
keep, 1
m
FATHER hubbord's tales. 257
But yet lier mercy was above lier heal ;
She did not, as a many silken men
Call'dbymuchwealth, small wit, to judgment's seal,"
Condemn at random ; but she pitied then
When she might spoil : would great ones would
Who often kill before the cause they know.
O, if they would, as did this little fowl,
Look on their lesser captives with even ruth.
They should not hear so many sentenc'd honl,
Complaining justice is not friend to truth I
But they would think upon this ancient theme,
Each right extreme is injury extreme.
Pass them to mend, for none can them amend
But heaven's lieutentant and earth's justice-king
Stern will hath will ; no great one wants a friend ;
Some are ordain 'd to sorrow, some to sing ;
And with this sentence let thy griefs all close,
Whoe'er are wrong'd are happier than their foes.
So much for such. Now to the little ant
In the bird's beak and at the point to die:
Alas for woe, friends in distress are scant I
None of his fellows to his help did hie ;
They keep them safe ; they hear, and are afraid :
'Tis vain to trust in the base number's aid.
Only himself unto himself is friend :
With a faint voice his foe he thus bespake ;
Why seeks your gentleness a poor worm's end ?
O, ere you kill, hear the excuse 1 make !
I come to wonder, not to work offence :
There is no glory to spoil ii
] So flnt ed. Sec. ed. " Judgemeat u
flS8 FATHER HUBBCKO'b TAtES.
Perchance you lake me for b sootbing spy.
By the sly snake or envious adder fee'd :
Alas, I know not how to feign and lie.
Or win a base intelligencer's meed,
That now are Christians, somelinies Turks, |
Living by leaving heaven for earthly news.
lam"
a little en
nmet
, bom (o work.
1
Ofti
1 you were
once a maid :
■
Under
the name
■oft
□an much
ill doth lurk.
Yet
of poor n
ne y<
)u need no
I be afraid ;
Mean
men are i
IS, on whom the mishty
tread;
Greatn
less and s
trength your v
irtue injured.
J
With that she open'd wide her horny bill,
The prison where this poor aubmiisant lay ( 1
And seeing the poor ant lie quivering still,
Go, wretch, quoth she, I give ihee life and
The worthy will not prey on yielding things.
Pity 'a infeofT^d to the blood of kings.
For 1 was once, though now a fcather'd veil
Cover my wronged body, queen-like clad ;
This down about my neck was erst a railP
Of byssi embroider'd — fie on that we had!
Unthrilis and fools and wronged ones complain
Rich things were theirs must ne'er be theirs again.
I was, thou know'st, the daughter to a king.
Had palaces and pleasures in my time;
Now mine own songs I am enforc'd to sing.
Poets forget me in their pleasing rhyme ;
»,&c.] Ed>."Trua[me: /an,"fto.
as
FATHEK RVBBUKD S TAI.ES. 559
Like chaif ihey fly, tose'A with each windy breath,
Omittbg my forc'd rape by Tereus' death.
But 'tis no matter; I myself can aing
Sufficient strains to witness mine own worth :
They that forget a queen aoolhe with a king ; i
Flattery's still barren, yet still bringeth forth :
Their works are dews shed when the day is done,
But stick'd up dry by the next morning's'' sun.
What more of them? they are like Iris' throne,
Commix'd with many colours in moist time:
Such lines portend what's in that circle shewn ;
Clear weather follows showers in every clime.
Averring no prognosticator lies,
That Bays, some great ones fall, their rivals rise.
Pass such for bubbles ; let their bladder-praise
Shine and sink with them in a moment's change ;
They think (o rise when they the riser raise ;
But regal wisdom knows it is not strange
For curs 10 fawn : base things are ever low ;
The vulgar eye feeds only on the shot*.
Else would not soothing glosers oil the son.
Who, while his father liv'd, his acts did hate :
They know all earthly day with man is done
When he is circled in the night of fate ;
So the deceased they think on no more.
But whom they injur'd late, they now adore.
1 Tliiy thai fvrget a q*tt» •oolhi uiilk a ki«g] Ry"aqueen"
ii ncant, 1 premme, Eliiabelh i by " a king." Jamci. wlio
liod reccDily Bicended the tliroae i *Dd Me the Tourlb atuiH
after ihiB.
' ■MrniNf't] So firat ed. Sec. ed. " morning."
560 TATIrER HBBBDRD'a TALE*.
But there's a manly lion now can roar
Thunder more dreaded than the liooess ;
Of him let simple beasts his aid implore.
For he conceives more than they eao express :
The virtuous politic is truly man,
Devil the atheist politician.
1 guess'd thee such a one ; but tell thy tale :
If thou be simple, as thou hast exprest.
Do not with coined words set wit to sale,
Nor with the flattering world use vain protest :
Sith' man thou say'st thou wert, I prithee, tell
While thou wert man what mischiefs tbec befell.
Princess, you bid me buried cares revive.
Quoth the poor ant ; yet sith by you I live,
So let me in my daily labourings thrive
As I myself do to your service give :
1 have been oft a man, and lo to be
Is often lo be thrall to misery.
But if you will have rae my mind disclose,
I must entreat you that I may set down
The tales of my black fortunes in sad' prose:
Rhyme is uneven, fashion'd by a clown ;
1 first was such a one, I lill'd the ground ;
And amongst rurals verse is scarcely found.
Well, tell thy tales ; but see thy prose be good ;
For if thou Euphuigte, which ODce was rare,"
• Silk] l e. Sinco. ' inrf ] L t. grare, sober.
■■ Eupkuiii, wAic* oaei wai ran] i. e. use ihc unnatural
alTecled style, vhioh wu once Bccouiited fzcellenl. It wmi
readered (Mhionnlile by ihe iwo fnmoiH produciions of Lyiy,
Hvpla,!; tht A»atamy of WU, and Eupliufi and hii England.
FATHER HUBBUED B TALES. SGI
Aod of all English phrase ihe life and blood,
In those times for the fashion past compare,
I'll say ihou borrow'sl, and condemn thy style,
As our new fools, that count all following vile.
Or if in bitterness tliou rail, like Nash —
Forgive me, honest soul, that term thy phrase
Railing ! for in ihy works thou wert not rash,
Nor didst affect in youth thy private praise :
Thou hadsl a strife with that Trigemini ; *
Thou huri'dst not them till they had injur'd thee.
Thou wast indeed too slothful to thyself.
Hiding thy better talent in tby spleen ;
True spirits are not covetous in pelf;
Youth's wit is ever ready, quick, and keen :
Thou didst not live thy ripen' d autumn- day.
But wert cut off in thy best blooming May:
Else badst thou 1ej\, as iboii indeed hast left.
Sufficient test, though now in others' chests,
T' improve" the baseness of that humorous theft,"
Which seems to flow from self- conceiving breasts :
' TrigemiHi] i. e. Gabriel Harvey aad his two leiu diilin-
guiihed brothers, Richard and John. For various partieulats
concerning ihia memorBbJe " strife " (wbich was lerminaled in
1599 hy an order of the Archbiahop of Canlcrbuiy), tee mf
Memoir of R. Greene, prefixed to hii Dramatic Workt, D'U-
raeli's Catamititi qf Julhnri, vol. Si., Sir E. Brydgei's jlrcliaica,
voL ii., and Collier'i Bridgeualfr-Himtt CalalogHr.
' imiimvt'} i. c prove.
• hinBrout Ihtfl] At p. 317 of a copy of lUuon'a BibliagTa-
phia Potlka, Malone hu appeoded Ihe following MS. note to
the title of Samuel RowUnda'i Letting of hunouri bland in Ihi
hiad-taiv, Sfc. i •• Stolen from Naib'i papers after hia death
in 1800. SoiBjiT.Middlitoe."— What the" AumaKMiirAf/'f"
was, I know not) t)ut (he expression certainly bu net the
Thy name they bury, having buried ihee;
Drones eal thy honey — ihou wert the true bee. *
Peace keep thy bouI ! And now to you, bit ant :
On with your prose, be neither rude nor nice ;
In your discourse let no decorum want,
See that you be sententious and concise ;
And, as I like the matter, I will sing
A canzonet, to close up every thing.
With this, the whole nest of ants hearing ibek
fellow was free from danger, like comforters when
care is over, came with great thanks to harmless
Philomel, and made a ring about her and their
restored friend, serving instead of a dull audience
of stinkards sitting in the penny - galleries of a
tlieatre, and yawning upon the players ; whilst the
ant began to stalk like a three-quarter sharer,* and
was not afraid to tell tales out of the villanous
school of the world, where the devil is the school-
master and the usurer the under-usher, the scholars
young dicing landlords, that pass away three hun-
dred acres with three dice in a hand, and after the
decease of so much land in money become sons
and heirs of bawdy-houses ; for it is an easy labour
to find heirs without land, but a hard thing indeed
lo find land without heirs. But for fear 1 interrupt
this small actor in less than dechno texto,^ 1 leave,
and give the ant leave to tell his tale.
] See Dole, vol. \i. p. 40li.
fxprewion frequi-nily applied by our
e penonagci: aee M»i»inger'B tt'arkt,
and B. Junaon'i Warkt, vol. ii. p. 233
FATHER HDBBUKD S TALES.
The Ant's Tale when he tvai a ploughman.
1 was sometimes, most chaste lady Nightingale,
or rather, queen Philomel the ravished, a brow-
ineiting husbanJman: to be man and husband is
to be a poor master of many rich carea, which, if he
cannot subject and keep under, he must look for
ever to undergo as many miseries as the hours of
his years contain minutes : sueh a man I vras, and
such a husband, for I was linked in marriage : my
havings were' small and niy means less, yet charge
came on me ere I knew how lo keep it; yet did I
all my endeavours, had a plough attd land to em-
ploy it, fertile enough if it were manured, and for
tillage 1 wa^ never held a truant.
But my destruction, and the ruin of all painful
husbandmen about me, began by ihe prodigal down-
fal of my young landlord, whose father, grandfather,
and great-grandfather, for many generations had
been lords of the town wherein I dwelt, and many
other towns near adjoining; to all which belonged
fair commons for the comfort of the poor, liberty
of fishing, help of fuel by bru&h and underwood
never denied, till the old devourer of virtue, ho<
nesty, and good neighbourhood, death, had made
our landlord dance afler his pipe, — which is so
common, that every one knows the way, though
they make small account of it. Well, die he did ;
and as soon as he was laid in his grave, the bell
might well have tolled for hospitality and good
housekeeping; for whether they fell sick with him
and died, and so were buried, I know not; but I
am sure in our town they were never seen since,
nor, that I can hear of, in any other part ; eape*
£64 rATi
cially about us ihey are Impossible to be found.
Well, our larillord being dead, we h«(l his heir,
gentle enough and fair'Conditianed,'* lathct pro-
mising ai first his father's virtues than the woHd's
villanies; but be was so accustomed to wild and
unfruitful company about the court and London
(whither he nas sent by Iiis aober father to prsc-
lise civility and manners), that in the country he
would scarce keep till liis father's body ttaa laid
in the cold enrth ; but as soon as the hasty funeral
waa aolemnised, from us he posted, discharging all
his old father's servants (whose beards were even
frost-bitten with age), and was attended only fay a
monkey and a marmoset ; ^ the one being an ill-
facedfellow, as variable as New-fangle'for tashions;
the other an imitator of any thing, however rillan-
008, but utterly deitiiuEe of all goodness. With
this French page and Italianaie serving-maR was
our young landlord only wailed on, and all to save
charges in servingmen, to pay il out in harlots:
and we poor men had news of a far greater expense
within less than a quarter. For we were sent for to
London, and found our great landlord in a little
room about the Strand ; who lold us, thai whereas
we had lived tenants at will, and might in his fore-
fathers' days [have] been hourly turned out, be,
putting on a better conscience to usward, intended
to make us leases for years ; and for advice 'twixt
him and us he had made choice of a lawyer, a
mercer, and a merchant, to whom he was much be-
' ti'iu/'Jaiigtr] This word ii prioled in both ed*. with a
upiul Uller: there aeema (o be Bome alluiion, «hich I am
unable to cxplaia.
P4THKR OtTBBUBD S TALES.
holding,'' who thai morning were appointed to meet
in the Temple -church. Temple and church, both
one in name, made us hope of a holy meeting; but
there lb an old proverb. The nearer the church, the
Janher from God: to approve* which saying, we
met the mercer and the merchant, that, loving out
landlord or his land well, held him a great man
in both their books. Some little conference they
had : what the conclusion was, we poor men were
not yet acquainted with; but being called at their
leisure, and when they pleased to think upon us,
told US they were to dine together at the Horn in
Fleet-street, being a house where their lawyer re-
sorted ; and if we would there attend them, we
should understand matter much for our good : and
in the meonlime, they appointed ua near the old
Temple-Garden to attend their counsellor, whose
name was master Prospero, not the great rider of
horse,' — for I heard there was once such a one, —
but a more cunning rider, who had rid many men
till they were more miserable than beasts, and our
ill hap it was to prove his hackneys, ^^'ell, though
the issue were ill, on we went to await his worship,
whose chamber we found that morning fuller of
clients than I could ever see suppliant! to heaven in
our poor parish -church, and yet we had in it three
hundred households : and 1 may tell it vrith rever-
ence, 1 never saw more submission done to God
than to that great lawyer; every suitor there of-
fered gold to this gowned idol, standing bare-
i
oMi„g] See note, p. 313. • apprw.] i. e. prove.
frtat rider of hwtt] " But if like a reitie Jade thou
;e the bill in iby mouth, and then runne oter hedge
ch. thou ihalt Ik broken ai Prosper broke hii honec,
muzzoule," &c L;ly'> Pappt with on halchtt, a. A.
headed in a sharp-get morning, for it waa in booted i^
MichaelmaB-ieTin, and not a word spoke to him but
it was irith the^ bowing of the body and the sub-
missive flexure or the knee. Short tale to make,
lie was informed of ug what we were, and of our
coming up ; when with an iron look and shrill voice,
he begnn to apeak to the richest of our number,
ever and anon yerkin^ out the word ^tiei, which
served instead of a full-point to every sentence.
But that word^nff was no fine word, tnetbought,
lo please poor labouring husbandmen, that can
scarce sweat out so much in a twelvemonth as he
would demand in a [winkling. At last, to close up
the lamentable tragedy of us ploughmen, enters our
young landlord, so metamorphosed into the ihape
of a French puppet, that at the first we started, and
thought one of the baboons had marched in in man's
apparel. His head was dressed up in white feathers
like a shuttlecock, which agreed so well with his
brain, being nothing but cork, ihat two of the
biggest of the guard might very easily have tossed
him with battledores, and made good sport with
him in his majesty's great hall. His doublet was
of a strange cut; and to shew the fury of his
humour, the collar of it rose up so high and sharp
as if it would have cut his throat by daylight. His
wings,' according to the fashion now, wereJ aa little
and diminutive as a puritan's ruff, which shewed
he ne'er meant to fly out of England, nor do any
exploit beyond sea, but live and ciie about London,
though he begged in Finsbury. His breeches, a
' botltd'] Id allusion to ihc drpss of the viriout persom
VATBEK BUBBUKDS TALES.
wonder to see, were full as deep at the middle of
winter, or ihe roadway between London and Win-
chester, and so large and wide withal, that I think
within a twelvemonth he might very well put all
his lands in them ; and then you may imagine they
were big enough, when they would outreach a thou-
sand acres : moreover, they differed so far from
our fashioned hose** in the country, and from his
father's old gascoynes,' that his back-part seemed
to us like a monster ; the roll of the breeches stand-
ing so low, ihat we conjectured his house of office,
sir-reverence,™ stood in his hams. All this while
his French monkey bore his cloak of three pounds
a-yard, lined clean through with purple velvet,
which did so dazzle our coarse eyes, that we
thought we should have been purblind ever af^er,
what with the prodigal aspect of that and his glo-
rious rapier and hangers" all host" with pillars
of gold, fairer in show than the pillars in Paul's
or the tombs at Westminster; beside, it drunk up
the price of all my plough-land in very pearl,
which stuck as thick upon those hangers as the
white measles upon hog's flesh. When 1 had well
viewed that gay gaudy cloak and those unthrifty
wasteful hangers, I muttered thus to myself: That
is no cloak for the rain, sure ; nor those no hangers
fot Derrick;'' when of a sudden, casting mine eyes
lower, 1 beheld a curious pair of boots of king
Philip'si leather, in such artificial wrinkles, sets,
' hmr] i. e. breeches.
' faiCDunei] i- e. ^lligaakins.
- ,ir-rcBtrf<a] See nole, vol. ji. p. 173.
• *o«er»] See note, vol, ii. p. 227.
° ftDfl] ■■ e. emboited.
' Dirmk] See note, p. filS.
t king Philtp-t] l e. SpiQutL
SS8 FATBEIt ntmBDKD's TALES.
and plaits, aa if they htid been starched lately and
came nen froni itic laundresi's, such was my igno-
rance and simple acquaintance with the fashion,
and 1 dare ttwear my fcllons and neighbours here
are all as i^orant as myself. But thai which struck
us most into admiration, upon tliose fantastical boots
stood such huge and wide tops, which so swallowed
up his thighs, that had he sworn, as other gallants
did, this common oath. Would I might sink as 1
Bland ! all his body might very well have sunk
down and been damned in his boots. Lastly, be
walked the chamber with such a pestilent gingle,''
that his spurs over-squeaked the lawyer, and made
him reach his voice three notes above his fee ; but
after we had spied the roweli of his spurs, hon we
blest ourselveB ! they did bo much and ao far exceed
the compass of our fashion, that they looked more
like the forernnners of wheelbarrows. Thus was
our young landlord accoutred in such a strange and
prodigal shape,'' that it amounted to above two
years' rent in apparel. At last approached' the
mercer and the merchant, two notable arch-trades-
men. who had fitted ray young master in clothes,
whilst they had clothed themselves in his acres, and
measured him out velvet by the thumb, whilst they
received his revenues by handfuls; for he had not
so many yards in his suit aa they had yards and
houses bound for the payment, which now he wu
forced to pass over to them, or else all his lands
should be put to' their book and to their forfeiting
1 giaglt] Cauaod by the iuge looie rowel*, vhich are pre-
sently mentioned : tbey were commouI<r of ailver.
' (Aofw] i. e, dreu.
' approaclied} So Hnl ed. Sec. Bd. " appriMch."
^ put lo] Ed>, "leput."
th.
' so my youngster was now at his p
:e a gentleman -pensioner, but liki
pender. Whereupon entered
royal scrivener, with di
writings hanged, drawn, and quartered for the
pose: he was a valiant scribe, I remember ; his pen
lay mounted between bis ear like a Tower-gun, but
not charged yet till our young master's patrimony
shot off, which waa some third part of an hour
after. By this time, the lawyer, the mercer, and
the merchant, were whispering and consulting to-
gether about the writings and passage of the land
in very deep and sober conference ; bui our wiseacres
all the while, as one regardless of either land or
money, not hearkening or inquisitive afler their
subtle and politic devices, held himself very busy
about the burning of his tobacco-pipe (as there is
no gallant hut hath a pipe to burn about London),
though we poor simple men never heard of the
name till that time; and he might very fitly take
tobacco there, for the lawyer and the rest made
him smoke already. But to have noted the apish
humour of him, and the fantastical faces he coined
in the receiving of the smoke, it would have made
your ladyship have sung nothing but merry jigs'
for
mth after,
; the
pipe like a horn at the Pie-corner of his mouth,
which must needs make him look like a bow-._
gelder," and another lime screwing his face like
one of our country players, which must needs make
hira look like a fool ; nny, he had at least his dozen
■-«*-r«-«]Seenote,p. I2e.
'jig.-i i.e. b.ll.di.
* likt a tow-gtidir} •' Hark, faon ny merry horn doth blow,"
is portof Higgcn'i vtog, nlicn he enters " like asow-geldiT:*'
see Beaumoiit and Fleccber's Btggatt' Buih, bcI iii. ic. 1.
570
FAIHEK ltUBCrRD'& TAlSa.
of faces, but never a good one araongii them all ;
neither his father's face, nor the face of his grand-
father, but yet more nicked and riotous faces than
all the generation of him. Now their privy whis-
perings and vilbnous plots began to be drawn tn
a conclusion, when presently they called our smoky
landlord in the midst of his araughl, who in a valiant
humour dashed his tobacco-pipe into the chimney-
corner : whereat I started, and beckoning his mar-
moset' to me, asked him if those long white things
did cost no money ? to which ihe slave replied very
proudly. Money ! yes, sirrah ; but I tell thee, my
master scorns (o have a thing come twice to his
mouth. Then, quoth I, I think thy master is more
choice in his mouth than in any member else ; it were
good jfhe used that all his body over, be would ocver
have need, as many gallants have, of any sweating
pliysic. Sweating physic! replied the marmoset i
what may thy meaning be ? why, do not you plough-
men sweat too? Yes, quoth I. most of any men
living; but yet there is a difference between the
sweat of a ploughman and the sweat of a gentle-
man, as much as between your master's apparel
and mine, for when we sweat, the land prospers,
and the harvest comes in ; hut when a gentleman
sweats, I wot how the gear'' goes then. No sooner
were these words spoken but the marmoset had
drawn out his poniard half-way to make a show of
revenge, but at the smart voice of the lawyer he
suddenly whipt it in again. Now was our young
master with one penful of ink doing a far greater
exploit than all his forefathers ; for what they were
n-purchasing all their lifetime, he was now passing
FATHER HUBBUKD'S TALES. 571
away in tlie fourth part of a minute ; and that
which many (housand drops of his grandfather's
brows did painfully strive for, one drop now of a
scrivener's inkhorn did easily pass over : a dash of a
pen stood for a thousand acres : how quickly they
were dashed in the mouth by our young landlord's
prodigal fist '. it seemed he made no more account
of acres than of acorns. Then were we called to
set our hands for witnesses of his folly, wliich we
poor men did witness too much already ; and be-
cause we were found ignorant in writing, and never
practised in that black art — which I might very
fitly term so, because it conjured our young master
out of all — we were commanded, as it were, to draw
any mark with a pen, which should signify as much
iis the best hand that ever old Peter Bales' hung
out in the Old Bailey. To conclude, I look the
pen first of the lawyer, and turning it arsy-versy,
like no instrument for a ploughman, our youngster
and the rest of the faction burst into laughter at
the simplicity of my fingering; but I, not so simple
aa ihey laughed me for, drew the picture of a
knavish emblem, which was a plough with the
heels upward, signifying thereby that the world
was turned upside down since the decease of my
old landlord, all hospitality and good housekeeping
kicked out of doors, all thriAinesa and good hus-
bandry tossed into the air, ploughs turned into
■ Ptitr Balii'] A particular account of ihii perion may be
found in Wood's ^thnx Ojoh. vol. i. p. 6B5, rd. BliH, and in
Chalmeri'i Bieg. Diet. I need anijr itale thai be *aa un-
rivalled, during hia day, in the * arioui hranchea of the an of
penmanihip, (occoiionally producing ■pecimeni of cxlraor-
iliaary minutenen) ; ihai in 1S90, trhea he published hia
n'riling Sf/ialimultr, he kept a Bcliool litusted at the upper
end of the Old Uailej' ; nod chat he is auppoied to hive died
about 1010.
572 FATUER bi'bbubd's tales.
trunks,' and corn into apparel. Tlien came another
of our husbandmen to sec his mark by mine; he
holding the pen clean at the one tide towards the
merchant and the mercer, shewing that all went
on their tides, drew the form of an unbridled colt,
KO wild and unruly, that he seemed with one fool
to kick up ihe earth and spoil the labours of many
toiling beasts, which was filly alluded to our wild
and unbridled landlord, which, like the coit, could
stand upon no ground till he had no ground to
stand upon.
These marks, set down under ibe sbapc of sim-
plicity, were the less marked with the eyes of
knavery ; for ihey little dreamed that we plough-
men could have so much satire in us as to bit« our
young landlord by the elbow. Well, this ended,
master Buraebell, the calves'- skin scrivener, was
royally handled, that is, he had a royal" put in his
band by the merchant. And now I talk of calves'-
skin. 'tis great pity, lady Nightingale, that the skins
of harmless and innocent beasts should be as in-
atrumetits to work villany upon, entangling young
novices and foolish elder brothers, which are caught
like woodcocks in the net of the law ; for'' 'tis easier
for one of the greatest fowls to slide through the
least hole of a net, than one of the least fools to
get from the lappet of a bond. By this time the
squeaking lawyer began to re-iterate that cold word
jinet, which struck so chill to our hearts, that it
[ made them as cold as our heels, which were almost
frozen to the floor with standing. Yea, quolh the
merchant and the mercer, you are now tenanls of
irunki] i. e., 1 tupiioK, trunk-boH, — round swelling
El HUBBURD S TALES.
578
oun ; all the right, title, and interest of this young
gentleman, your late landlord, we are firmly pos-
sessed of, as you yourselves are witnesses : where-
fore this is the conclusion of our meeting ; such
fines as master Prospero here, by the valuation of
the land, shall, out of his proper judgment, allot to
us, such are we to demand at your hands ; there-
fore ne refer you to him, to wait his answer at the
gentleman's best time and leisure. With thai, they
stifHed two or three angels'^ in the lawyer's right
hand; — right hand, said I ? which hand was that,
trow ye? for it is impossible to know which is the
right hand of a lawyer, because there are but few
lawyers that have right hands, and those few make
much of them. So, taking their leaves of my young
landlord that was, and that never shall be again,
away they marched, heavier by a thousand acres at
their parting than they were before at their meeting.
The lawyer then, turning his Irish face to usward,
willed us to attend his worship the next term, when
we should further understand his pleasure. We,
poor souls, thanked his worship, and paid him his
fee out in legs;** when, in sight of us, he embraced
our young gentleman (I think, for a fool), and gave
him many riotous instructions how to carry him-
aelf, which he was prompter to take than the other
to put into him ; told him he must acquaint himself
with many gallants of the Inns-of-Courl, and keep
rank with those that spend most, always wearing a
bountiful disposition about him, lofty and liberal ;
his lodging must be about the Strand in any ease,
being remote from the handicraft scent of the city;
in some famous tavern, as the
eating mus
a»sihi See n
I, p. 20.
-"P]
5T4
FATHER IIVDDtlKD a TALES.
Horn, the Mitre, or the Mermaid ;* and tlien after
dinner he must venture beyond sea, (hat is, in a
choice pair of noblemen 'a oars, to the Bankside,'
where he mutt sit out the breaking-u[)*ora<:ome<)y,
or the first cut of a tragedy; or rather, if his hu-
mour so serve him, lo call in at the Blackfriars,"
where he should see a nest of boys able to ravish
a man. This said, our youns goose-cap, nho wai
rendy to embrace such counsel, thanked him for hif
fatherly admonitions, as he termed them, and lold
him again that he should not find him with the
breach of any of them, swearing and protesting he
would keep all those better than the ten command*
menis : at which word lie buckled on his rapier and
hangers,' his monkey-face casting on his cloak by
the book ; after an apish congee or two, passed
down stairs, without either word or nod to us his
old father's tenants. Nevertheless we followed
him, like so many russet servtngmen, to see the
event of all, and what the issue would come to;
when, of a sudden, he was encountered by a most
glorious -spangled gallant, which we took at first to
have been some upstart tailor, because he measured
all his body with a salutation, from the tlow of the
• thi Horn, (*f Milrt, or Ihi Mermaid'] The first of tKrie
h>i beta already mcDlioned in Iliia iracl. see p. SAS; tlic
Mitre wai in Bread-ftreet, Cheipiide ; the Mennaiil in Corn-
hill : *ee note*, rol. li. p. 340.
' llii BankiltU] In Sauthwuk, where the Globe and ether
IheatrcB wen iitualed.
( brta/iiiig- up] i. r. csTfing.
' llu Blaelijnari] The theatre so named, which stood Dear
the preacDC Apathecariei' Hall, and nhich was occasionally
occupied by the Children of the Reveli (a aul of boy): ttt
Colliera Hhl. <^ Engl. Dram. Fotlry, voL iii. p. 275.
' kangtri} See note, vol. ii. p. Til.
n IIUEBDKDS TALES.
doublet to the fall of the breeches ; but at last we
found him to be a very fantastical sponge, that
licked up all humoura, the very npe of faahio
gesture, and compliment, — one of those indeed, as
we learned afterward, that fed upon young land-
lords, rioiouB sons and heirs, till either he or the
Counter in Wood-street had swallowed them up;
and would not stick to be a bawd or pander to such
young gallants as our young gentleman, either to
acquaint them with harlots, or harlots with them;
to bring them a whole dozen of taffeta pimks at a
supper, and they should be none of these common
Molls neither, but discontented end unfortunate
gentlewomen, whose parents being lately deceased,
the brother ran away with all the land, and they,''
poor squalls,' with s little money, which cannot hold
out long without Home comings in ; but they will
rather venture a maidenhead than want a head-tire;
such shuttlecocks as these, which, though they are
tossed and played withal, go still*" like niHids, all
white on the lop : or else, decayed gentlemen's
wives, whose husbands, poor souls, lying for debt
in the King's Bench, ihey go about lo make mon-
sters in the King's-Hcad tavern ; for this is a general
' (iejl] Bo fir>t ed. Sec. ed. " the."
' jjMoiij] Equivalent liere. it would Mem, lo — wenchea:
vide note, vol. iii. p. 5S, Taylor, the wsler-poet, luea the word
ti a term of endearment :
" The rich Gull Callanl calla her Deare and Loue.
Dueke, Lambe, Squall, Soeel-bearl. Cony, and hii Doue."
jt Whore, p. 112— »Vt«, 1630.
■nd Kerope aa ■ leria of leproach ; " Swearing it did him
good to haue ill words of a hoddy doddy, o babber de hoy, a
chicken, a aquib, n iijuoZI." Ifumbli Stqueil, Sic, appended
to Wk NUt dairi n-omlcr. 1600.
■> tliiq So ant ed. Not in lec. ed.
axiom, all your luxurious" plots are always begm
in taverns, lo be ended in vau[l]ung-house8;* and
after supper, when fruit comes in, there is small
fruit of lioneity to be looked for, — for you koow
that the eating of die apple alcays betokens the
iall of Eve. Our prodigal child, accompanied
with this soaking swaggerer and admirable cheater,
who had Bupt up most of our heirs about London
like poached eggs, slips into White-FTiari'nunnery,''
whereas" the report went he kept hia most deli-
cate drab of three hundred a-year, some unthril^y
gcntlemsn's daughter, who had mortgaged his land
to scriveners, sure enough from redeeming again ;
for so much she seemed by her bringing up, though
less by her casting down. Endued she was, as ne
heard, witli some good qualities, though all wrre
converted then but to llattering viUaniea : she could
run upon the lute very well, which in others would
have appeared virtuous, but in her lascivious, foi
her running was rather jested at, because she was
a light runner besides : she had likewise the gift of
singing very deliciously. able to charm the hearer ;
which so bewit(?he(l away our young master's money,
thai he might have kept seven noise' of musicians
for less charges, and yet they would have stood for
ImiftiL
'AwKi] 1. e. brotbcls.
iilt-Friari- ■■.nirj] Compare {ece note, p. 514) our
■t Oanidf Cirii.-
'« IVoni his daughter Blanth and dau^ter Bridget,
their iiTe isqcIiut} in the Whiie-l'riani
« »DBBU11DS TALES.
senringmen too, having blue coats'' of iheir own.
She had a humour lo liap often, like a flactering
wanton, and talk childish, like a parson's daughter;
which 9o pleased and rapt our old landlord's lickerish
?on, that he would swear she spake nothing but
an'eetmeats, and her breath then sent forth such
a delicious odour, that it perfumed his white-satin
doublet better than sixteen milliners. Well, there
we left him, with his devouring cheater and his
glorious cockatrice;' and being almost upon din-
ner-time, we hied us and took our repast at thrifty
mother Walker's, where we found a whole nest of
pinching bachelors, crowded together upon forms
and benches, in that most worshipful three-half-
penny ordinary, 'where presently they were boarded"
with hot monsieur Multon-and- porridge (a French-
man by his blowing); and next to them we were
served in order, every one taking their degree:
and I tell you true, lady, I have known the lime
when our young landlord's father hath been a
ihrec-baifpenny eater there, — ^nay more, was the
first that acquainted us with that sparing and
thrifly ordinary, when his riotous son hath since
spent his five pound at a titling. Well, having dis-
charged our s
respect of ov
rying these
oppressions I
fines. And,
mall shot (which was like hail-shot in
r young master's cannon- reckonings
e plodded home to our ploughs, car-
eavy news to our wives both of the
our old landlord's son, as also of our
o come by the burden of uncharitable
most musical madam Nightingale, do
but imagine r
ow what a sad Cliristmaa we all kept
* eoeiatriei
Seeoole, |i. 10<).
A c.n. le™ for a harlot.
S78
FATREB HDBBUKDS TALKS.
in the country, without either carols, wassail -bowls,"
dancing ol'Sellenger's round' in moonshine nights
about May-poles, shoeing the mare, hood man -blind,
hot-cocklei, or any of otir old Christmas gambols;
no, not so much as choosing king and queen on
twelfth night: such was the dulness of our plea-
sures,— for that one word fines robbed ua of all
OUT fine pastimes.
This sour-faced Christmas thus unpleasantly past
ovtr, up again we trotted to London, in a great frost,
I remember, for the ground was as hard as the law-
yer's conscience ; and arriving at the luxuriousSlrand
•ome three days before the term, we inquired for
our bountiful landlord, or the fool in the full, at
his neat and curious lodging ; but answer was
made us by an old chamber-maid, thai onr gentle-
man slept not there all the Christmas tiroe, but
had been at court, and at least in five masques ;
marry, now, as she thought, we might find him at
master Poops his ordinary, with half-a-doien of
fallanls more at dice. At dice? at the devil! quoth
, for that is a dicer's last throw. Here I began to
Mul, like Thomas Nash" agninst Gabriel Harvey,
if you call that railing; yet 1 think it was but the
lunning a lilt of wits in booksellers' shops on both
1 udes of John of Paul's' churchyard ; and I wonder
' how John scaped unhorsing. But when we were
■ iHuiail-tBU-li . . . lllnting tht more] Compare Tkt Imt
Timpit AfsifHi, p, 143 of (his to).
' Stllengtr'i nwiiil] " i. t. St. Lcger's round . . . was an
old country- dancs, and was nut quiie out of knoHled^re bI ihi
be^nDJng of (he pm«nl century, lliere beia); penoiii mm
living who Teinembet iL" Sir J. Hawkins's JIUr. ef iiaiit,
vol. iii. p. 3S8, where the notes of it are given from > toI-
leolion afcounlry.dsDcea published by PU^ford in 1679.
- Uk, Thttmut Ka,h, St.] Sre nole. p. ifll.
> Jehn o/Puk/'j] See Dole, p. SSS.
FATHER HDBBURD B TALES.
579
entered the door of the ordinary, we might hear
our lusty gentleman shoot offa volley of oaths some
three rooms over us, cursing the dice, and nishing
the pox were in their bones, crying out for a new
pair ofsquare ones, for the other belike had cogged*
with him and made a gull of him. When the host
of the ordinary coming down stairs met us with
this report, afVer we had named him, Troth, good
fellows, you have named now the most unforlu-
nateat gentleman living, at passage* I mean; for I
protest I have stood by myself as a heavy eye-wit-
ness, and seen the beheading of five hundred crowns,
and what pitiful end they alt made. With that he
shewed us his cmbost girdle and hangers* new-
pawned for more money, and told us beside, not
without tears, his glorious cloak was cast away
three hours before overboard, which was, offthe table.
At which lamentable hearing, we stood still in the
lower room, and durst not venture up stairs, for
fear he would have laid all us ploughmen to pawn
too ; and yet 1 think all we could scarce have made
up one throw. But to draw to an end, as his patri-
mony did, we had not lingered the belter part of
an hour, hut down came fencing'' his glittering
rapier and dagger, as if he had been newly shoulder-
clapt by a pewter- but toned sergeant and his wea-
pons seized upon. At last, after a great peal of
oaths on all sides, the court broke up, and the wor-
Zflftonr'i Jo, - -
in occurs in Shakeipeare'i Loit'M
■• since you can cog, i'll piny no more wiih
S i where Johnion remorltB, '• To cag lignifiea
ice, and to Jaltifg a norratire or to lit [or la
' hangcri] See Hole, vol. ii. p
0 d«™ cam. finciog} Qy- " ■
e what precedes and folloiri.
n cone the hou fiHcng" 1
SSO rATi
^tiiprul bene)) of dJcera came tlmnilermg down Btaiis,
•omc aweoriiig, some Uughing, BOme carsing, and
some singing, wiih such a confusion of hamoura,
that tind we not" knowu before what nnk of gal-
lants ilicy vr«re, we sboulil liave iltought the devilt
liBtl been at dice in an ordinary. The tirst diat
appeared to us was our mosl lamentable landlord,
dresBtd up in his monkey's livery-cloak, thai hr
seemed now rather to wait upon his monkey ihsn
tiis monkey upon him, whicli did set forUt his satin
suit ao excellent scurvily, that he looked for all
the world like a French lord in dirty booia. When
casting his eye upon us, being desirous, as it
seemed, to remember us now if we had any money,
brake ioto these fantastical speeches : What, my
whole warren of tenants ? — thinking indeed to make
conies'^ of us, — ray honest nest of ploughmen, the
only kings of Kent! More dice, ho.' i 'faith,'' lei's
have another career, and vomit three dice in s
liand again. With that I plucked his humour at
one side, and told him we were indeed his father'^
lennnts, but his we were sorry we were not ; and
■a for money to maintain his dice, we bad not suf-
ficient to stulTout the lawyer. Then replied out
gallant in a rage, tossing out two or three oew-
minied onilis, 'I'hese ploughmen are politicians, 1
think; they have wit, the whorsons; they will be
tenants, I perceive, longer than we shall be land-
lords, .^nd fain be would have swaggered with us,
but that his weapons were at pawn : so, marching
out like a turned gentleman, the rest of the gallants
seemed (o cashier him, and throw him out of their
company like a blank die — the one having no black
'' ua/] So lint ed. Not in lec ed.
' cuniVi] L e. rabbit! — dupei: ih Date, vol. L p. 3W.
* f faith] First ed. " than j/faUk."
I
FATHER HVSBORS'S TALES. 5B1
peeps," nor he no white pieces. Now waa our
gallant the true picture of the prodigal ; anil having
no rents to gather now, he gathered his wits about
him, making his brain pay him revenues in villany ;
for it is a general observation, that your sons tuid
heirs prove seldom wise men till they have no more
land tlian the compass of their noddles. To con-
clude, within fen days' practice he was grown as*
absolute in cheating, and as exquisite in pandarism,
that he outstripped all Greene's books' Of Ike Art
of Cony-catching ; and where * before he maintained
his drab, he made his drab now maintain him ;
proved the only true captain of vaulting-houses,''
and the valiant champion against constables and
searchers; feeding upon the sin of Whiie-Friars,
Pict-hatch, and TurnboU Street.' Nay, there was
no landed novice now but he could melt bira away
into nothing, and in one twelvemonth make him hold
all his land between his legs, and yet but straddle
easily neither ; no wealthy son of the city but within
less than a quarter he could make all his stock not
worth a Jersey stocking: he was all that might be
in dissolute villany, and nothing that should be in
his forefathers' honesty. To speak troth, we did
so much blush at bis life, and were so asliamed of
his base courses, that ever after we loathed to look
al\er them. But returning to our stubble- haired
lawyer, who reaped his beard every term-time (the
lawyer's harvest), we found the mercer and the
' ptepi] i. e. eyes (spalE) : compare p. G31. 1. lB-20.
' granni at] So fir«l ed. Not in jec. ad.
' Orteiu'i bveki, Bic] Stt note, vol. i. p. 290.
* wtwr] i. e. wbereai.
' vaMlting-hoHiti'] i. e. broiheli.
' Pkl-Malclit and TimlxiU-tirttl^ Sea naU> p. E13,
58S
IL HUBBtlBD B TALES.
merchant crowded in his study amongst a company
of law-books, which they jusiled so often with their
coxcombs, that they were almost together by the
ears with them; when at the sight of us they took
an habeat corpvi, and removed their bodies into a
bigger room. But there we lingered not long for
our lormenti; for the mercer and the merchani
gave tire to the lawyer's tongue with a rope of
an^eW and the word Jhiei went off with such a
powder, that the force of it blew us all into the
couulry, quite changed our ploughmen's shapes,
and so we became little ants again.
This, madam Nightingale, is the true discourse
i>r our rural fortunes, which, how miserable,
wretched, and full of oppression they were, all
husbandmen's brows can witness, that are fined
»r by year j
iiixonet of your sweet singing will s
to i!ie world in satirical harmony.
The remorseful'' nightingale, delighted with the
ant's quaint discourse, began to tune the instrument
of her voice, breathing forth these lines in sweet
and delicious airs.
The Niglitingate'g Canaanet.
Poor little ant.
Thou shalt not want
The ravish'd music of my voice !
'i'hy shape is best,
Now thou art least,
For great ones fall with greater noise
angfli] See nolc, p. 20. There teems lo be
rpworkt running on linea ; icc Tol, ii. p. £31.
rcaartffiil] 1. 1. compauionite.
HCBBURD a TALES. 51
And this Bliall be the marriage of my song,
Small bodies can bave but a little wrong.
Now thou art securer,
And thy days far surer ;
Thou pay'st no rent upon the rack,
To daub a prodigal landlord's back.
Or to mainiain the subtle running
or dice and drabs, both one in cunning;
Both pass from liand to hand to many.
Flattering all, yet false to any;
Both are well link'd, for, throw dice how you can,
They will turn up their peeps' to every man.
Happy art thou, and all thy brothers,
That never feel'st the hell of others !
The torment to a luxur" due.
Who never thinks his harlot true;
Although upon her heels he stick his eyes,
Yet still he fears that though she stands she lies.
Now are thy labou
rs easy.
Thy state not sick
or queasy ;
All drops thou sne
Great subsidies be
BS unknown
To thee and to thy little
■ fellow-ants.
Now none of you under
that burden pants.
Lo, for example, I myself, poor worms,"
That have outworn the rage ofTereus' storms.
Am ever blest now, in this downy shape.
From all men's treachery or soul-melting rape ;
And when 1 sing Tereu, Tereu,
Through every town, and so renew
,»] f
«84
FATHER nDBDtrHDH TALES.
The luune orTereus, slaves, through fears,.!
With guilty fingers boll their ears,
All» ravishi-ri do rave and e'en fall mad.
And then such wroiij^'d souls as myself are glad.
So thou, Btnall wretch, and all thy nesi,
Are in thu&e IJitle hodies blest.
Not tax'd beyond your poor degree
With landlord's line and Inwyer's fee :
But (ell me, pretty toiling worm,
Did that same ploughman's neary form
Diacourage thee so much from others,
That neither thou nor those ihy brotliers.
In borrow'd ahapes, durst once agen*
Venture amongst perfidious men f
Yes, lady, the poor ant replied,
I led not bo; but then I tried
War's sweating fortunes ; not alone
Condemning rash all siatea for one,
Until I found hy proof, and knew by cou
That one was bad, but all the rest were worse.
Didst thou put on a rugged soldier then?
A happy stale, because thou fought'st 'gainst men.
Prithee, discourse thy fortunes, state, and harms;
Thou wast, no doubt, a mighty man-at-arms.
The Atd't TaU when he rfitt a wldier.
Tlien thus, most musical and prickle-sin^
inadam (for, if I err not, your ladyship was the m
' Ml) So fini ed. Stc ed. ■' And all."
1 ■vfn] See note, p. tS2.
' ptieklr-iitging] Compare p. SS6, line *.
FATHER ul'bburd's tales. 585
thai brought up prick-son^,* being nothing eUc but
tli« fatal notes of your pitiful ravish meni), I, not
contented long, a vice cleaving to all worldlings,
with this link estate of an ant, but stuffed with
envy and ambition, as small as I was, desired lo
venture into the world again, which I may rather
term the upper hell or frtgida geketma, the cold-
charitable bell, wherein are all kind of devils too ;
as your gentle devil, your ordinary devil, and your
gallant devil ; and all these can change their shapes
loo, as lo-day in cowardly while, to-morrow in po-
litic black, a third day in jealous yellow; for believe
it, Hweet lady, there are devils of all colours. Never-
theless, I, covetous of more change, leapt out of
this little skin of an ant, and hung my skin on the
hedge, taking upon me the grisly shape of a dusty
soldier. Wulj made I was, and my limbs valiantly
lieun out for the purpose : I had a mazzard,' I
-, so well lined in the inside with my
Stood me in belter stead than a double
; for the brain of a soldier, differing from
e, fur, and even qutit the coxcomb, and so
makes a pate of proof; my face was well leavened,
which made my looks taste sour, the true relish of
a man of war ; my cheeks dough-baked, pale, wan,
and therefore argued valour and resolution ; but
my nose somewhat hard-baked, and a little burnt
in the oven, a properly not amiss in a soldier's
visage, who should scorn to blush but in his nose;
my chin was well thatched with a beard, which was a
necessary shelter in winter, and a fly-flap in gum-
remembe
headpieci
all other
prick-ongi See
mazzardi i.e.*
D/Atr] So first .
i. p. S26.
986 rATBEK HUBBOKDi TALES.
mer, bo btu&liy and spreading, that my lips could
scarce be seen to natk abroad, but played at all-hid,
and durst not peep forth for starting a hair. To
conclude, my arms, thighs, and legs, nere so sound,
■tout, and weighty, as if they had come all out of
the timber-yard, that my very presence only nas
able to still the bawlingest infant in Europe. And
i think, madam, this was no unlikely shape for a
soldier to prove well ; here was mettle enough for
four shillings a-week to do valiant service till it
was bored as full of holes as a skimmer. Well, to
the wars 1 betook me, ranked myself amongst des-
perate hot shots, — only ray carriage put on more
civility, for 1 seemed more like a spy than a foU
lower, an observer rather than a committer of vit-
lany. And little thought 1, madam, that the camp
bad been supplied with harlots too as well as the
Cunain," ami the guarded tents as wicked as gar-
den tenements ; " trulls passing to and fro in the
washed shape of laundresses, as your bawds about
London in the manner of starchwomen, which is
most unsuspected habit that can be to train out
distress. And if your ladyship will not think me
much out of the way though I lake a running leap
. irom the camp to the Strand again, I will discover
k pretty knavery of the same breeding between
I tuch a starchwoman and a kind wanton mistress;
there are few of those balassed vessels now-a-
days but will have a love and a husband.
The woman crying her ware by the door (a most
pitiful cry, and a" lamentable hearing that such a
stiff thing as starch should want customers), passing
' lit Curtain] i. e. the Iheitre to called, in Shoredilch.
lier right
FATHER bubburd's tales. S87
cunningly and slily by the Ktall,' not once raking
notice of tlie party you wot on, but being by this
some three or four shops off, Mass, quoth my young
mistress to the weathercock her husband, such a
thing I want, you know : then she named liow many
puffs and purls* lay in a miserable case for want
of sliffening. The honest plain-dealing jewel her
out a boy to call her (not bawd by
ne, but starch w Oman ) : into the shop
taking a low counterfeit curtsey, of
whom the miatress demanded if the starch were
pure gear,'' and would be stiff in her ruff, saying
she had often been deceived before, when the things
about her have stood as limber as eelskins. The
woman replied as eubiilely. Mistress, quoth she,
take this paper of starch of my hand; and if it
prove not to your mind, never bestow penny with
me, — which paper, indeed, was a letter sent to her
from the gentleman her exceeding favourite. Say
you so 1 (juoth the young dame, and I'll try it, i'faith.
With that she ran up stairs like a spinner upon
small cobweb ropes, nut to try or arraign the starch,
but to conAter' and parse the letter (whilst her
husband sat below by the counter, like one of these
broiv-biiien catclipolls that wait for one man all
day, when his wife can put live in the counter
before him), wherein she found many words that
pleased her. Withal the gentleman writ unto her
for a certain sum of money, which no sooner was
read, but was ready to be sent: wherefore, laying
up the starch and that, and taking another sheet
■ Hall] Shapi beiag
p. 54.
* purli] i. e. bordtri, friogM.
time open ; aee n
of clem paper in ber hand, wanting time and op-
pnrtuniiy to write at largp, with a penfal of iok, in
tfce very miilille of the sheet, writ these few quaint
inanaty liable I, Coin, Caret, and Cvrei, and alt C*
tUe art youri. Then rolling up the white niaoey
like the sinrch in that paper very aiibtilcly and art»-
ficially. came tripping down stairs with these colonic
able wordi, Here's goodly starch indeed! fie, fiat
— trust me, husband, as yellow ax the jaimdice ; I
would not have betrayed my pnfls wiih it for a
1 million: — here, here, here (giving her the paper of
[ money). With that the subtle starchtrnman, lean-
ing sorry thai il pleased her not, told her, witbin
few days she would lit her turn with that which
■hoiild like' her; meaning indeed more such tweet
news from her lover. These and such like, madanit
are the cunning conveyances'' of secret, privy, and
therefore unnoted harlots, that so avoid the com-
mon finger of the world, when less committers than
they are publicly pointed at.
So likewise in the camp, whither now I return,
borne on the swif\ wings of apprehension, the habit
of a laundress shadows the abomination ofa strum-
pet; and oitr soldiers are like glovers, for the one
cannot work well, nor the other iighc well, without
their wenches. This was the first mark of villany
ihsi 1 found sticking upon the brow of war; but
at>er the hot and fiery copulation ofa skirmish or
two, the ordnance playing like so many Tambiir-
lames,* the muikcls and calivers answering like
drawers, Anon, anon, sir,' 1 cannot be here aitd
there too, — that is, in the soldier's hand and La t]
• likf\ \. e. pinse.
' ranrryonvi] See note, p. SIT.
FATHER HUBBUROa TAtEB. 589
enemy's belly, I grew more acquainted, and, as it
were, entered into the entrails of black-Iivered po-
licy. Methaught, indeed, at first, those great pieces
of ordnance should speak English, though now by
transportation turned rebels : and what a miserable
and pitiful plight it was, lady, to have so many
thousands of our men slain by their own country-
men the cannons, — 1 mean not the harmless canons
of Paul's, but those cannons that have a great singing
in their heads! Well, in this onset i remember I
was well smoke -dried, but neither arm nor leg
perished, not so much as the loss ofa petty finger;
for when I counted them all over, I misseil not one
of them; and yet sometimes the bullets came within
a hair of my coxcomb, even like a barber sctatching
my pate, and perhaps took away the left limb of a
vermin, and so departed; another time shouldering
me like a bailifl* against Michaelmas-term, and then
shaking me by the sleeve as familiarly as if we had
been acquainted seven years together. To con-
clude, they used me very courteously and gentle-
manlike awhile ; like an old cunning bowler lo fetch
in a young ketling^ gamester, who will suffer him
to win one sixpenny-game at the first, and then
lurch him in six pounds afterward : and so they
played with me, still training me, with their fair
promises, into far deeper and deadlier battles,
where, like villanous cheating bowlers, they lurched
me of two of my best limbs, viz, my right arm and
right leg, that so, of a man of war, I became in shew
a monster of war ; yet comforted in this, because I
knew war begot many such monsters as myself in
less than a twelvemonth. Now I could discharge
no tnore, having paid the shot dear enough, 1 think,
ling] See n
-, p. 513.
690 FATHER BCBBUBD S TALES.
but rather desired to be discharged, to have pay
and begone ; whereupon I appeared to my captnio
and other commanders, kisBJng my leA hand, which
then stood for both (like one actor that plays two
parts), who seemed to pity my unjointed fortunes
and plaster my wounds up with words, told me 1
bad done valiant service ia their knowledge; marry,
as for pay, they must go on the score with me, for
all their money was thumped out in powder : and
this was no pleasing salve for a green sore, madam ;
'twas too much for me, lady, to trust calivers with
my limbs, and then cavaliers with my money.
Nevertheless, for all my lamentable action of one
arm, like old Titus Andronicus,'' I could purchase
no more than one month's pay for a ten months'
pain and peril, nor that neither, but lo convey
away my miserable clamours, that lay roaring
against the arches of their ears, marry, their boun-
tiful favours were extended thus far, — I had a
passport to beg in all countries.
Well, away I was packed; and aOer a few mise-
ries by the way, at last I set one foot into England
again (for 1 had no more then lo set), being my
native though unnatural country, for whose dear
good I pawned my limbs to bullets, those merciless
brokers, thai will take the vantage of a minute;
and so they were quite forfeited, lost, and unre-
coverable. When I was on shore, the people ga-
thered,— which word gathering put me in hope of
* nrd'on o/me o™, liki eld Tims .^Bdnmiciu] Ser ihe tragedy
so called, which, though now prinud siaong ihe works of
Shakespeare, was anuredl; wriilen by lome other drsmstiit,
— probably, by Msriowe. In acl iii. ic. 1, Asron curs off the
band of Tilus ; and in act v. sc. 2, the latter says,
" How can I ^ace my talk,
Wmting a hond ta girt it acliaaf"
FATBEE HDBBUim'a TALES. 591
good comfort, thnt afterfrard I failed of; for I
thought at first they had gathered something for
me, but I found at last they did only but gather
about me ; some wondering at me, as if 1 had been
aome sea-monBter east ashore, some jesting at my
deformity, whilst others laughed at the jests: one
amongst them, I remember, likened me to a sea-
crab, because 1 went all of one side; another fellow
vied it,' and said I looked like a rabbit cut up and
half-eaten, because my ning and leg, as they termed
it, were departed. Some began to pity me, but
those were few in number, or at least their pity
was as pennyless as Pierce,' who writ to the devil
for maintenance. Thus passing from place to place,
like the motion'' of Julius Cteaar or the City Ni-
neveh, though not altogether in so good clothes, I
overtook the city from whence I borrowed my first
breath, and in whose defence I spent and laid out
my limbs by whole sums to purchase her peace
and happiness, nothing doubting but to be well
entreated' there, my grievous maims tenderly re-
garded, my poor broken estate carefully repaired,
the ruins of my blood built up again with redress
and comfort : but woe the while, madam ! I was
not only unpiticd, Buccourless, and rejected, but
threatened with the public stocks, loathsome jails,
whipping-pofits, there to receive my
< if] So flnt ed. Not in «ec. ed.
i Pierce] Sec note, p. fill.
^ ilu mMion, Sec] i. e. the puppet-show : that of Nine<reh,
shich wai veiy celebrated, has been mentioned before, *ol. i.
p. 229, And Yol. iv. p. 16<i. la EuerU JVonan t* her Haimmr,
1609. GeticB obierveB, thai ihe hid seen " the Cilrie of new
■ta].-
d luliiu
and Dekker t
FATHER HUBBCKD S TALES.
pay-
iflv
B goodly T'
rati for my" bleeding »
e found in the ciiy again
I forced to retire I
I Spita) and Slioredilcli, which, as it appeared, wat
the only Cole-harbour" and sanctuary for weocbei
■nd soldiers; where I took up a poor lodging a'
Uust till the Sunday, hoping that tlicn master Ainu
I and mistress Charity would walk abroad and take
the air in Finsbury. At which time 1 came hoppii^
out from my lodging, like old lame Giles of Cripple-
gate ; but when 1 came there, the wind blew so
(leak and cold, that I began to be quite out of hope
of charity ; yet, like a torn map of misery, I waited
tny single halfpenny fortunes; when, of a andden,
turning myself about, and looking down the Wind-
ntill-hill, 1 might espy afar offa fine-faahioned dame
of the city, with her man bound by indenture befijre
her ; whom no sooner I caught in mine eyelids, bai
I made to with all possible speed, and with a pre-
meditated speech for the nonce," thus, most soldier-
like, 1 accosted her : Sweet lady, I beseech your
beauty to weigh the estate of a poor unjoinied sol-
dier, that hath consumed the moieiy, or ihe one-
half of his limbs, in the dismembering and devour-
ing wars, that haveP cheated me of my flesh so
notoriously, I protest I am not worth at this instant
the small revenue of three farthings, beside my
lodging unpleased'' and my diet unsatisfied; and
had I ten thousand limbs, 1 wouid venture them nil
in your swcei quarrel, rather than such a beauty as
yourself should want the least limb of your desire.
NotiE
a. t±
FATHER RUBBURd's '
593
Wiih ihat, as one being rather moved by my last
words of promise than my tirat words of pity, she
drew her white bountiful hand out of her marry-
mufF,' and quoited a single halfpenny; whereby I
knew her then to be cold mistress Charity, both by
her chill appearance and the hard, frozen pension
she gave me. She was warm* lapt, 1 remember,
from the sharp injury of the biting air ; her visage
was benighted with a taffeta-mask, to fray away
the naughty wind from her face, and yet her very
nose seemed so sharp with cold, that it almost
bored a hole quite through : this was frost-bitien
Charity ; her teeth chattered in her head, and leaped
up and down like virginal-jacks,' which betrayed
likewise who she was : and you would have broke
into infinite laughter, madam (though misery made
me leaden and ptensive), had you been present, to
have seen how quickly the mutTswallowed her hand
again; for no sooner was it drawn forth to drop
down her pitiful alms, but, for fear the sun and air
should have ravished it, it was extempore whipt up
again. This is the true picture of Charity, madam,
which is as cold as ice in the middle of July.
Well, still I waited for another fare; hut then I
bethought myself again, Chat alt the fares went by
water a' Sundays to the bear-baiting," and a' Mon-
days to Westminster-hall ; and therefore little to be
looked for in Moorfields all the week long : where-
fore I sat down by the rails there, and fell into
these passionate,' but not railing speeches : Is this
the farthest reward for a soldier ? are" valour and
' marrg-tinff] See Qoiea, vol, i. p. 3SS, loL iii. p. 36.
• vam] So fint ed. Kot in lee. cd.
' virginal-jacki] See note, vol. iii. p. 112.
■ Iht btar- bailing'] Ai Fuii Garden, in Soulhvarlc.
• jMHionafc] i, e. pBlheile, sorrowful. " art] Eds. " is."
SBi FATHER HUBBUBDG TALES.
resolution, the two champions of the soul, so slightly
estecmeii and bo basely undervalued ? dotfa reeling
Fortune not only rob us of our limbs, but of our
living 1 are soldiers, then, both food for cannon and
for misery ? But then, in the midst of my passion,
calling to memory the peevish turns* of many
famous popular gallants, whose names were writ
even upon the heart of the world — it could not so
much QB think without them, nor speak but in the
discourse of them — I began to outdare the very
worst of cruel and disaster chances, and determined
to he constant in calamity, and valiant against the
battering siege of misery. But note the cross star
that always dogged my fortunes : I had not long
rested there, but I saw the tweering' constable of
Finsbury.with his bench of brown-hill-men.i'making
towards me, meaning indeed to stop some prison-
hole with me, as your soldiers, when the wars have
done with them, are good for nothing else but lo
stop holes withal; at which sight, I scrambled up
of' all two, took my skin off the hedge, cozened
the constable, and slipt* into an ant again.
NlGBTlNOALE.
O, 'twas a pretty, quaint deceit,
(The Nightingale began to sing,)
To slip from those that lie in wait,
Whose touch is like a raven's wing,
■■ turnip First ed. "forlnoei."
' twciring] Ot tKirixg — eqiumlent here, it teemi, ii
piyiDg, peeping: on the word lioirr, seeGifibrd'a note, B. J
■on'i IForki, vol. Ti. p. 280, and Kichardion's Dkl. in v.
' brnun-bill-men^ See note. p. £13,
' iH Squivdent to on : lee uote, vol. iii. p. SSB.
- iJi/>'] So first ed. Sec. ed. leems (o have " slint."
R ItUBDUnDS TALES.
Over a niorial, i
Alas, poor emmet ! thou wast tost
In thousand miseries by iliis shape ;
Thy colour wasted, thy blood lost.
Thy limbs broke with the violent rape
or hot impatient cannons, which desire
To ravish lives, spending their lust in fire.
O what 3 ruthAil eight it is to see.
Though in a soldier of the mean'st degree,
That right member perjsh'd
Which the' body cherish'd !
That limb dissever'd, burnt, and gone,
Which the best part was borne upon :
And then, the greatest ruth of all.
Returning home in lorn estate,
Where he should rise, there most to fall,
Trod down with envy, bruis'd with hate:
Yet, wretch, let this thy comfort he.
That greater worms'* have far'd like thee.
So here thou left'st, bloodless and wan.
Thy journeys thorough man and man ;
These two cross'd shapes, so much opprest.
Did fray thy weakness from the rest.
No, madam, once again my spleen did thirst
To try the third, which makes men blest or ci
That number three many stars wait upon, '
Ushering clear hap or black confusion :
' the] So first ed. Sec. ed. " Ih]'."
Once more I ventur'd all my hopes to crown, —
But, aye me ! leapl into a scholar's gown.
NlOHTlNOALE.
A needy scholar ! worse than worst.
Less fate in that than both the first :
I thought thou'dst leapt into a law-gown, then
There had been hope t' have swept up all agen j**
But a lank scholar ! study how you can,
No academe makes a rich alderman.
Well, with this comfort yet ihou may'st discourse.
When fates arc worst, then they can be no worse.
The Anl's Tale nihen he ivai a scholar.
You speak oracle, madam ; and now suppose,
sweet lady, you see me set forth, like a poor
scholar, to the university, not on horseback, but
in Hobson's waggon," and all ray pack contained
in less than a little hood-box, my books not above
four in number, and those four were very needful
ones too, or else they had never been bought ; and
yet I was [he valiant captain of a grammar-school
before 1 went, endured the assault and battery of
many unclean lashes, and all the battles I was in
stood upon points' much, which, once let down,
the enemy the schoolmaster would come rearward,
and do such an e^tploit 'tis a shame to be talked
" agen} See Date, p. 192.
■ Habim'i uaggon} See note, vol. W. p. 7. I ouehl to bavt^
uid there, that Milton compoied lica copies of teraai on
Hobson; and 1 may add here, that thef are printed (one of
Ihcm very imperrecllj) in Ifir Rtiland (p. 185, ed. 1S17),
where they are preceded by an enlarged copy of what forms
the third epitapli on Hobson in Wil'i Recrealiaiu.
' poind] i. e. tsgeed lacea liy which the breeehes were
attached to the doubleL
FATHER UUBBUKD S TALES.
of. fiy [his time, madam, imagine tne slightly e
tenained !□ be a poor scholar and servitor to soi
Londoner's son, a pure cockney, that muat hear
twice a-week from his mother, or else he will be
sick ere the Sunday of a university-mulligrub.
Such a one, I remember, was my first puling
master, by whose peevish service I crept iQto an
old battler's' gown, and eo began to be a Jolly
fellow. There was the first point of wit I shewed
in learning to keep myself warm; to the confirm-
ing of which, you shall never take your true philo-
sophers without two nightcaps at once and better,
a gown of rug with the like appurtenances; and
who be your wise men, I pray, but they ? Now,
BB for study and books, I had the use of my young
master's ; for he was all day a courtier in the tennis-
court, tossing of balls instead of books, and only
holding disputation with the court- keeper how
many dozen he was in ; and when any friend of
his would remember bim to his book with this old
moth-eaten sentence, nulla diet sine tinea. True, he
would say, I observe it well, for I am no day from
the line of the racket-court. Well, in the mean-
time, I kept his study warm, and sucked the honey
of wit from the flowers of Aristotle — steeped my
brain in the smart juice of logic, that subtle virtue,
■ — ^and yet, for all my weighty and substantial argu-
ments, being able indeed to prove any thing by
logic. I could prove myself never the richer, make
the best syllogism I could : no, although I daily
rose before the sun, talked and conversed with
midnight, killing many a poor farthing candle, that
sometimes was ungently put to death vrhen it might
have lived longer, but most times living out the
■ ballltr'i] &«« note, p. S'H.
I
593
FATHER UrBBURD S TALES.
full course and liour, &nd the snufF dying naturally
in his bed. Nevertheless, I h&d entered as yet
but the suburbs of a scholar, and sat but upon the
skirts of teaming: full af\en I have sighed when
others have snorted ; and when baser trades have
securely rested in ihcir linens, I have forced mine
eyes open, and even gagged them with capital tet-
ters, stretching tbem upon tlie tenters of a broad
text-line when night and sleep have hung pound
weights of lead upon my eyelids.
How many such black and ghastly seasons have
1 passed over, accompanied only with a demure
watching - candle, that blinked upon Aristotle's
works, and gave even sufficient glimmering to read
by, but none to spare ! Hitherto my hopes grew
comfortable upon the spreading branches of art
and learning, rather promising future advancement
than empty days and penurious scarcity. But shall
1 lell you, lady? O, here let me sigh out a full
point, and take my leave of all plenteous hours
and wealthy hopes ! for in the spring of at! my
perfections, in the very pride and glory of all my
labours, I was unfruitfuUy led to the lickerish study
of poetry, that sweet honey-poison, that swells a
supple scholar with unprofitable sweetness and de-
licious false conceits, until he burst into extremities
and become a poetical almsman, or at the most, one
of the Poor Knights of Poetry, worse by odds than
one of the Poor Knights-of Windsor. Marry, there
was an age once, but, alas, long since dead and
rotten, whose dust lies now in lawyers' sand-boxes !
in those golden days, a virluous writer might have
lived, maintained himself better upon poems than
many upon ploughs, and might have expended more
by the year by the revenue of bis verse than any riot-
ous elder brother upon the wealthy ciuartridges of
tiiree times three hundred acres, according to the
excellent report of these lines :
There
vas a golden
age — who murder 'd it?
Howd
ed that age,
or what became of it!
Then
poets, by d
vines t alchemy.
Did tur
n their ink t
3 gold ; kings in that time
Hung ■
ewels at the
ear of every rhyme.
ButO.
those days a
re wasted ! and behold
The go
den age tha
wasiscoindtogold:
And
why Time n
Or this
an iron-age
'tis thus expreat, —
The go
den age lies
in an iron cheat :
Gold lies now as prisoner in a
n-barred chest, where the prison-grates i
locks
great
e the
sely mewed, i
ter looks to walk
e to come a speedy
e tlie piddling gout
n enough ; for your
uid the key -ho lea
dammed up, that it ne
abroad again, unless there chanc
rot among usurers, — for I fear n
will never make them away s<
rank money-masters live their i
years as orderly as many honesler men : and it is
great pity, lady Philomel, that the gout should be
such a long courtier in a usurer's great toe, revel-
ling and domineering above thirty years together
in his rammish blood and Iiis fusty flesh; and I
wonder much, madam, that gold, being the spirit
of the Indies, c«n couch so basely under wood
and iron, two dull slaves, and not muster tip his
legion of angels,' burst through the wide bulk of
a coffer, and so march into bountiful and liberal
' ongcli] See noie, p. 20.
600 FATHER ilCBBURDS T*LE«.
bosami, shake hands with vinuoui geotJemen,
dustrious apiriis, and true-ileserving worthies,
testing the covetous clutches and loathsome fangs
of a goat-bearded usurer, a gable-80ul[ed] broker,
and an infectious lan-fogger.
Vet that which makes me most admire his base-
nets are these verses following, wherein he proudly
sets forth his own glory, which he Taunts so much
of, that I shame to think any ignoble spirit or
copper disposition should fetter his smootb golden
limbs in boisterous and sullen iron, but rather be
let free to every virtuous, and therefore poor
scholar (for poverty is niece to virtue); so should
each elegant poeni be truly valued, and divine
Poesy sit crowned in gold, as she ought, where'
now she only sits with a paper on her head, as if
she had committed some notorious trespass, either
for railing against some brawling lawyer, or calling
some justice of peace a wise man; and liow tnng-
niUcently Gold sings of his own fame and glory,
these bis own verses shall stand for
1
Know, I am Gold,
The richest spirit that breathes in earlh or hell.
The soul of kingdoms, and the stump of souls ;
Bright angels'* wear my livery, sovereign kings
Christen their names in gold, and call themselves
Royal' and sovereign'" alter my gilt name;
All offices are mine and in my gxh ;
J ithtre] i. e. whereai.
■' angiU] See note, p. 30.
' tagal] See note, p. S72.
■ Mnertlgn'] See note, »oL L p, 110^
FATUEE KUBfiURDS TALES.
no I
I
I have a hand in all ; the statist's veins
Flow in the blood of gold; the courtier bathes
His supple and lascivious limbs in oil
Which my brow sweats : whai lady btigiitly spher'd
liui takes delight to kiss a golden beard?
Those pleaders, forenoon players, act my parts
With liberal'' tongues and desperate-fighling spirits.
Thai wrestle with the arms of voice and air ;
And lest they should be out, or faint, or cold.
Their innocent clients hist them^n with gold :
What holy churchman's not accounted even,
That prays three times to me ere once to heaven?
Then to let shine the radiance of my birth,
I am th' enchantment both in hell and earth.
Here's golden majesty enough, I ti
I a poor padlock?
'orthy of such an i
lir sleek-faced coui
ue; thou that thn
'orld, with the
nd yet s
ind, Gold,
.ighty, 1
0 base drudge, and loo
ngel-like form! much like
lier, without either wit or
west the earthen bowl of
1 the
the world, with the bias the wrong way,
saniry, baseness, ingentility, and never givest de-
sert his due, or shakest thy yellow wings in a
scholar's study! But why do I lose myself in
seeking ibee, when tbou art found of few but illi-
terate hinds, rude boors, and hoary penny- fathers,'
that keep thee in perpetual durance, in vaults under
false boards, subtle-contrived walls, and in horrible
dark dungeons bury thee most unchristian -like,
without amen, or the least noise of a priest or
clerk, and make thee rise again at their pleasures
many a thousand time before doomsday; and yet
« librral]
'aliir^M
a,lioi
602 tATat.% Huncut s talbb.
Kill Dot *11 this move thee once to forsake them,
and kwp company with a acholar that truly knows
how to u*e thee 1
Bt tbi* time I bad framed an elaborate poetical
building — a neat, choice, and curious poem, — -the
first-fmits of my musical - rhyming study, irhicii
wu dispersed into a quaint volume fairly bound
up in principnl Tellum, double - filleted with teaf-
goM. strung most gentlemanUke with carnation silk
ribund ; which bo(>k, industriously heaped with
w<*ighiv conceits, precious phrases, and nealiliy
numbers, I, Oliver Hubburd, in the beat fashion
I might, presented to Sir Christopher ClutchGst,
whose bountiful virtue I blaze in my first epistle. *"
I The book he entertained but, I think, for the cover's
take, because it made such a goodly show on the
backside: and some two days after, returning lor
my remuneration, I might etpy — O l.imentable
sight, madam! — my book dismembered very ita-
gically ; the cover ript off, I know not for what
purpose, and the carnation silk strings pulled out
and placed in his Spanish-leatlier shoes ; at which
ruthlul prospect 1 fell down and sounded;" am)
when I came to myself again, I was an ant, and so
ever since I have kept me.
NlGBTISCALE.
There keep thee still ;
.Since all are ill.
Venture no more ;
'Tis bciior be a little ant
Than a great man and live in want.
And still deplore :
• fir.i rpi.tlf-\ See p. .Jil.
PATflBR hobbukd's tales. (i03
So real thee now
From sword, book, or plough.
By lliis the day began to spring,
\nA seiEC upon her waichful eyes.
When more tree-quiristerg did sing.
And every bird did wake and rise :
Which was no sooner seen and heard,
But all their pretty chat was marr'd;
And then she said.
We are betray'd.
The day is up, and alt the birds
And ihey abroad will blab our words.
With that she bade the ants farewell.
And all Ihey likewise Philomel :
Away she flew,
Crying Term!
And all (he industrious ants in throngs
Fell to their work and held their tongues.
J
APPENDIX.
THE TRIUMPHS
HONOUR AND INDUSTRY.
i
' ""*'^
Tbr Tryumphi of Honor and Iiidlllry. A Sultmntty ptr-
formtd Ihroagk llit CUy, at Coiifirmaliim and Ittabliikmtnt <if tht
Right HanarabU, Georgt Boalei, In the Office of hii UeieHitt
Lieaelenanl, tht Lord Mayor nf Ike /amons Cilly of LgfldoN.
Taking btginning at til Lordihiiu going, and prorteding afttt
Mil Relume fiom receining the Oalk a/ Maiorallt/ al IViilmiyiiler,
im Ike rnwrow nixl afttr Simm and Judex dag 'October 29. 1617.
London, Printed by Niebolai Oiei. 1617. 4to.
It nai not until ibe esilier poriion of the present valumc
had been prinled, thai ( wai able to procure (he (unique)
4(0 of thia pageant.
In the Account of Middlelan and l»s Workt, p. xxi., I havp
given aome extracti from the Grocers' Conipaoy's sccounta
leUtiog to thia piece, Id ohich meatioa ia matte of " The
Pageant of Naliona, the Hand, the ladiao chariot, the Caatle
of Fame, trymaing the Shipp, vith aU Ihi leveral beaitri which
drew Ihem :" and 1 maj' now add from the aame document ;
'■ Payde for 50 lugar loavea. 36 lb. of £. ,. d.
nulmeggs, 34 lb. of dates, and IH
lb. of ginger, which were Ihrowen
about the streetea by those which
aate on the griffynt and camUi ... H T S."
Heaih'a -Ace. i^lhe Wortkip. Covp. i^ Grm:m,f. 331.
on either of the ahfp or the
Ta the tcorthy deierver of aU the eo»U and tritimpht
which the liable Society of Grocert in . bounteoiu
! hestoia OH him, the Riff hi Honourable
R Bowles,* Lord Mayor of l/ie fatnoiu City
of London.
UlBHT HONOUHABLE,
Out of Ihe slightest labours and employ-
ments there may that viriufi Bometimes arise that
may eDlighten the best part of man. Nor have these
kind of triumphe aa idle relish, especially if they be
artfully accomplished : under such an esteemed elight-
tiess may often lurk that fire that may shame the
best perfection. For instance, what greater means
fur the imitation of virtue aud nobleness can any
where present itself with more alacrity to the be-
holder, than the memorable fames of those worthies
in the Castle, manifested by their escutcheons of
arms, the only symbols of honour and antitjaity?
The honourable seat that b reserved, all men have
hope that your justice and goodness will exactly
merit ; to the honour of which I commend your
lordship's virtues, remaining,
At your Honour's service.
Bollcs" by Sloo and otbect.
I
HONOUR AND INDUSTRY.
It hatb been twice mj t'ortuue in short ^nie to have
employment for tlil« noble Society, where 1 have
always met with men of much understanding, and
no less bounty ; to whom cost appears but as a
shallow, BO there be fulness of content in the per-
formance of the solemnity: which that the world
may .judge of, fer whose pleasure and satisfaction
custom hath yearly framed it, but chietly for the
honour of the City, it begins to present itself, not
without form and order, which is rer^uired in the
meanest employment.
Tkejirit invetttion.
A company of Indians, attired according to the
true nature of their country, seeming for the most
part naked, are set at work in an Island of growing
i^piees: some planting nutmeg-trees, some other spice-
trees of all kinds ; some gathering the fruits, some
making up bags of pepper ; everj- one severally em-
ploye<l. These Indians are all active youths, who,
ceasing in their labours, dance about the trees, both
to give content to themselves and the spectators.
After this show of dancing Indians in the Island,
follows triumphantly arich personage presenting India,
iMHAM IB iBivtor tM Mv ««■ hrwvnl to i|Mtk,
k tk»a
TWir fntt ami Im« •■ mK.joj'i or ai
WW af nv ^K f .KLii'< bM 1 b«*c rab'tl,
ABd dkr ^did hMMH W In dan ?
IWIiil1ij»a«tfcliliniJrfp»W:
T* tM> «Uaa> BC, K Id Mml ta gloiy:
Ab4 «h« « ilfRt to knv Mck a atnry ?
it ii M dor m BgH m br«b » Iniili.
l^aenBctkrirapwlKMilBdiHtry Ihetrroaili.
BekoU A» Ml «f goU. afNw >liieb •taMb
A goldn Cspi^ vt^vb vftk
TV B^htj po««r of bdoMrj
TIUg«tobo«h w«iU Bad tan
Whfc aadi a ilfww of aaiitjr and peace.
Km only to iivrif atUiD^ lacreair.
But KTRal Batio»» «b«c vommctve abooMb
Tufbf the hatiwoaiow ptaee to nrtrtly sounds;
For imtaacv. IM foor gnriou* eyp be tix'd
L'poa a joT tne tkoagk m ■mogrir adx'd.
613
And that you may take the better note of their
adomraents, — India, whose seat is the most emioeiit,
for her expression holds in her hand a wedge of gold ;
Traffic, her associate, a globe ; Industry, a fair golden
ball in her liaiid, upon which stands a golden Cupid ;
Fortune expressed with a silver wheel ; Success
holding a painted ship in a haven : Wealth, a golden
key where her heart lies; Virtue bearing for her
manifestation a silver shield ; Grace holding in her
hand a book : Perfection a crown of gold.
At which words, the Pageant of Several Nations,
which is puqiosely planted near the sound of the
words, moves with a kind of aifeciionate joy both at
the honour of the day's triumph and the prosperity
of Love, which by the virtue of Traffic is likely ever
to continue ; and for a good omen of the everlasting
continuance of it, on the top of this curious and
triumphant pageant shoots up a laurel-trce, the
leaves spotted with gold, about which sit six celestial
figures, presenting Peace, Prosperity, Love, Unity,
Plenty, and Fiddity : Peace holding a branch of
palm ; Prosperity, a laurel ; Love, two joined hands ;
Unitj*, two turtles ; Plenty holding fruits ; Fidelitv,
a silver anchor. But before I entered so far, 1 should
have shewed you the zeal and love of the Frenchmftn
and Spaniard, which now I hope will not appear
unseasonably ; who, not content with a silent joy,
like the rest of the nations, have a thirst to utter
their gladness, though understood of a small num-
ber ! which is this :
La mullitude m'at/atU mtmte sur ce fiaul lieu pour
rontempler le glorieux tiiomphe de cetle joum^t, je
VOL. V- 3 G
OH THE TEIttMFn«> OF
rain i/u'rH quelqve tortt la noble diffnM </« la trr$
konora/tle fwciiU drt O'rm^rrf y ent repreient^e, dout
ntt JouiMaat par-tieMimus lnus. jr. Irur nouhaiie et a
H/oateifffumr U Main U combU de touUs ruAUt rt
KewmitetfortHnea.
The tame in Engliih.
It ii m; joy chiefly (and I gt&nil for [faousaiids),
to see the glory of UiM triuRiphHOt day, which ia
•onH! mrasiirc reqnites thd noble worthiness of the
hoaoiiratilG Society ofCirocem. to wliom and to my
Lord Mayor I wish all good sireMsses,
Tlii» Frenchman no »ooner sets a periud to hu
speech, but tlic .S|mnisrd, in zeal as virtuous as hC)
utters bltnaelf to the purpose of the»e words :
The SpanianTs fpefch in Spawh.
yinffuna de lodan titaa rtarionen amcibe mator tf
verdailrm aleffria en ette trivtnjari/e y ploriom dia
que ya. nit, ninguna de lodajs elUis, portpie agnra
ipir me partre, que ton Ian ricat, ef tenat i/ue lot de
my nation en tratantlo con tllttt reaixrron mayor
provrcAo dellat, at my senior Don Maior lotlai
iuetiat y dichotat forlunat, y a lot de la honrada
Compania de Etpecierot dickntot drsteot, y atti diot
ffuardr. a my tenior Don Motor, y rogo a diot yur
todn r.l aiiHO tiffutenU, jmede ter Ian dichoto eomo
rtia entrada luya, a la diffnidad de tu tenoria, ffnardt
diot a tH tcnoria.
The tame in EngUtk,
Nonr of all theite nations conceive more true ji
at thin triumphant day tlion myself: to my ]
Major all fair and noble fortunes, and to the v
SociolT of tJroccirB all happy wishes; and 1
heaven that all the year following ma}' be as happy
and Huccesflful as this first entrance to your dignity.
This expres^iioii of their joy and love having j^pent
itwlf, I know you cannot part contented without
their several inscriptions : now the favour and help
roust be io you to conceive our breadth and limits,
and not to think we can in these customary bounds
comprehend all the nations, but so many as shall
serve to give content to the understander ; which
thus produce themselves :
An Englishman.
A Frenchman.
Ad Irishman.
A Spaniard.
A Turk.
A Jew.
A Folander.
A Barbarian.
A Russian or Muscovian.
This fully expressed, I arrive now at that part
of triumph which my deiiire ever hastened to come
to, this Castle of Faroe or Honour, which Industry
brings her sons unto in their reverend ages.
In the front of this Castle, Reward and Industry,
decked in bright robeit, keep a seat between them
for him to whom the day's honour is dedicated,
shewing how many worthy sons of the City and of
the same Society have, by their truth, desert, and
industry, come to the like honour before him ; where
on a sudden is shewn divers of the same right wor-
shipful Society of Grocers, manifested both by their
good government in their times, as also by their
escutcheons of arms, aa an example and encourage-
(ilO
THE T
tueiit to all virtuous and industrious deaerven in
time to come. And in honour of antiquity is sbewn
that ancient and memorable worthy of the Grocers'
Company, Andrevr Bockrill, who was mayor of
London the sixteenth yearof Henry the Third. !23I,
and continued bo mayor seven years together : like-
wise, for the greater honour of the Company, is also
shewn in this Castle of Fame the noble Allen de la
Zouche, grocer, n ho was mayor of London the two-
and-fillieth year of the same Henry the Third, which
Allen de ia Zouche, for his good government in the
time of his mayoralty, was by the said King Henry
the Third made both a baron of this realm and lord
chief-justice of England ; also that famous worthy,
air Thomas Knolles, grocer, twice mayor of this hon~
uurable city, which sir Thomas bc^n at his own
t;harge that famous building of Guildhall in London,
and other memorable works both in this city and in
his own Company; bo much worthiness being the
lustre of this Castle, and ought indeed to be the
imitation of the beholder.
My lord no sooner approaches, but Ren-ard, a
partner with Justice in keeping that seat of honour,
as overjoyed at the sight of him, apiiears too free
and forward in the resignation.
Reward.
Welcome to Fame's bright Castle I take thy place ;
This seat's ■■="'■■■"■'1 •" 'i- >>"- ^sw-io.. nm»«i
Justice.
True, but not yet to he possess'd. Hear me :
Justice must flow through him before that be;
Great works of grace must be requir'd and done
Before the honour of this seat be won.
o do thy virtue:! grace.
A whole year's reverend care in rigliting wrongs,
And guarding innocence from raalielous tongues,
Must be employ 'd in virtue's sacred right
Before this place be fill'd : 'tis no mean fight
That wine this |jalm ; truth, and a virtuous care
Of the oppressed, those the loadstones are
That will gainst envy's power draw him forth
To take this merit in this seat of worth,
Where all the memorable worthies shine
In works of brightness able to refine
AH the beholders' minds, and strike new fire.
To kindle an industrious desire
To imitate their actions and their fame,
Which to this Castle adds that glorious najue.
Wherefore, Reward, free as the air or light.
There must be merit, or our work':* not right.
Reward.
If there were any error, 'twas my love ;
And if it be a fault to be too free.
Reward cominits but once such heresy.
Howe'er, I know vour worth will so extend.
Your fame will fill tliis seat at twelve months' end.
About this Castle of Fame are placed many hon-
ourable figures, as Truth, Antiquity, Harmony, Fame,
Desert, Good Works ; on the top of the Castle,
Honour, Religion, Piety, Commiiie ration, the works
of those whose memories shine in this Castle.
If you look upon Truth first, you shall find her
properly expressed, holding in her right hand a sun,
in the other a fan of stars ; Antiquity with a scroll
in her hand, as keeper of Honour's records; Har-
mony holding a golden lute, and Fame not without
ber silver trumpet; for Desert, 'tis glorious through
1)cr own bright ^t^s>i, but holds nothing; Good Works
I'XjireaseU with a college, or hospital.
Ou the top of the Cantle, Houour manirested by
a fair star in his hand; Religion with a temple on
her bead; Piety with an altar; Commiseration with
a melting or burning heart
And, not to have our speakeni forgollen, Iteward
and Justice, with whom we entered this part of
Triumph, Reward holding a wreath oi'gold ready for
a deserver, and Justice fumiabed with her sword
and balance.
All this service is performed before the feast.
sonic iu Paul's Churchyard, some iu Cheapside ; at
which place the whole Triumph meets, both Castle
and Island, that gave delight uiion the water. And
now, as duty binds me, I commend my lord and bis
right honourable guess' to the solemn pleasure of
the feast, from whence, I presume, all epicurism is
banished; for where Houour is master of the feast.
Moderation and Gravity are always attendants.
The feast being ended at Guildhall, my lord, ae
yearly custom invites him, goes, accompanied with
the Triumph, towards St. Paul's, to perform the
noble and reverend ceremonies which divine anti-
quity virtuously ordained, and is no less than faith-
fully observed, which is no meaii lustre to the City-
Holy service and ceremonies accomplished, he re-
turns by torchlight to his own house, the wliole
Triumph placed in comely order before him; and
at the entrance of his gate, Honour, a glorious pei^
SOD, from the top of the Casde, gives life to these
following words;
■ gutii"] i.e. gueiii; see note, vol. i. p. 326.
HONODK AND INI>USTHY.
»
The sjMiech of Honour from the top of the Caslle,
at Ute EiUranee of my Lard Mayor's guU.
Honour.
There is no human glory or renovn,
But have their evening and their sure »un-MUing:
Which shews that we should upward seek our crown,
And make but use of time for our hope's bettering :
So, to be truly mindful of our own,
Is to perform all parts of good in one.
The close of this triumphant day is come.
And Honour stays to bid you welcome home:
All I desire for my grace and good
Is but to be remember'd in your blood,
With honour to accomplish the fair time
Which power hath put into your liuuds. A crime
Afi great as ever came into sin's band
I do entitle a too-sparing hand :
Nothing deads honour more than to behold
Plenty coup'd up, and bounty faint and cold,
Which ought to be the free life of the year;
For bounty 'twas ordain'd to make that clear.
Which is the light of goodness and of Ikme,
And puts by honour from the cloud of shame.
Great cost and love hath nobly been bestow'd
Upon thy triumph, which this day hath shew'd ;
Embrace 'em in thy heart, till times afford
Fuller expression. In one absolMe word.
All the content that ever made man blest.
This Triumph done, make a triumphant breast I
No sooner the speech is ended but the Triumph
is dissolved, and not possible to scape the bands of
the defacer ; things that, for their auaintness (I dare
■o far commend them), have uot been usually seen
620 THE
OF UOKOUB A
through the City; the credit of which ucirkmaiishi
I must justly lay upnn the deserts of master Rowland
Buckf^t, chief master of the work ; yet not forpetiing
the faithful care and industry of my well-approved
friend, master Henry Wilde, and master Jacob
Chulloner,'' partners in the business.
The Reason cuts me off; and after this day'
trouble I am as willing to take my reM.
^ Jaceh CItoUmrr'] In Ihe document before
piymenu " lo Jacob Challoner, pwoter."
btnnerc, &c. Heatli, Kc. p. 331
ship I
land J
INDEX TO THE NOTES.
^^■^^H
^I^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^B -^^^1
INDEX TO THE NOTES. ^^|
'< high loM. i. 262.
^^^H
a-pcr-K, i. 2?7.
^^H
■ thing done, i». 87.
amber, iv, 237. ^^
«hlB. iy. 223.
amorauslj, iv. 236.
Abr«'ni,goodin»n. iii. 32.
Abram-coloDred, i. 259.
there, i. 205 ; iii. 25S ; it.
abrapt. ii. ISl.
45.
AchiUes' speai. iii. 498.
»ches, i. 28. 45i ii. 417.
■ndenE. iii. 239.
acopna, iii. 327.
angel, i. 250; ii. 2S ; iii. 38 ;
MfOBticii. 179.
iv. 616; t. 20.
angle, ii. 132; i». 309.
affBCted, T. 7.
angler, ii, 537.
iffecM, *. 144.
Anno Domini, iii. 266.
rfront, ii. U.
anon.a>.on, iv. 177; T. 588.
i««n.i. 331; ii. 33 : ».371.
Arlotta.iii. 201.
_ *«en. i, 416; ii. 66 i iii. S8 ;
L T. 192.
■ aUbluter, i. 281 ; W. 108.
■ alchemy (or rdcnm;), ir. 122.
r >l..mn. Hi. 626.
Arthur of Bradley, iii. 118.
Antlinga, Saint, i. 503 ; u.
464
witimaaque, iy. 627 ; v. 146.
•pud. i. 125.
AlaBlor, T. 432.
apes' brcechei, ir. 425.
Aldegord, Abbea.. if. 310.
apparenee, i. 361 [ ii. 119.
apperil, i. 427.
«■ life. i. 272 1 ii. 68 i iii.
apijle-aquire, iii. 232.
34B ; i». 70.
appose, i. 304.
Atiguit, iii. 8 ; iv. 218,
approvE, iT. 243 ; v. 62 ; ».
■looroff, i. 427; ii. 525 : iii.
315.
40 ; T. 89.
aprnn husbands, ii. 486.
aqua yitE. i. 206 ; iii. 239 ;
AU-hoUontide. V. 282.
V. 82. ^_
■tlline, T. 394.
argo, i. ^^^M
allowed, i. 7.
Ariatippiia, Ii. 422. ^^^H
almond for parrot, iii. 112;
arrant, .. ^^H
ij. 122.
7 1
^H 624 WOEX TO THE NOTES. ^^^
H ArtillerTG«dtt,i».«4; ».
becovered. iii. 268; t. 29.
■ 283.'
bedfellow, i. 448.
H ulopei, i. 257.
beetJe. iiL231.
^H usamed fonnkllT, ii. 3S6.
before me. iii. 459.
H u«ir«l. <>. 201.
beforne. v. 493.
■ ■Lomiea. iii. 226.
begfiirarool.iu.16; i>. 134.
■ atlane, ii. 194; iT. 509.
bdialdiog, i. 441 : iLSO; iii.
■ «mt, L 4-14 1 iii. le : iT. 247.
IS6; IT. 40; T. 36.
H Bveature. i. 2S3.
bell naed b* beggan. ii. 169.
Belt. the. ir. 8.
BeU. Adam. ii. 446.
^K taffle, ii. 449.
berav. i. 294 ; iii. 27D.
^L btaing, iT. 41.
^H [bsker'a ditcb, Ad. Bt Car. i.
bcMt. i. 504.
■ U>v,]
beahraw, iii. 460.
^B B>l«i. Frter. r. 571.
bendn. i. 235.
^1 b.U>[-])lBc«. >. 542.
be»nia<>, i. 24D.
^K balloon-InU, iv. 342.
beren, (1.427; 1. Ml.
H bui, i. 2B4.
bewray*, 1.294; ii. 197.
■ bud. i. 245; u. 439.
bewrayed, v. 76.
■ budilwr.v.sn.
bin, iii. 193; T. 421.
B. bmdora, ii. 319.
bill-men, ia. 217 i *. SIS.
H buu», i. 471 ; if. 483 ; *. 129.
hUls, i. 423.
B bmqnet, iii. 2S2 ; <r. 42.
bitter. T. 289.
H buikront, iL 453 ; ir. 56.
birle. iU. 152.
black-guard. iL 546.
^H fiuakside. T. 574.
Block&iar.. iv. 75; v. S74.
^m bard duer-tnj, iii. 193.
blaek palcbM. U. 535.
^H bu-lPT-break, iU. 1 14 ; W. 250.
blacka. ii. 353.
^B buren, iv. SSI.
bloDcbed harlot, u. SSO.
^H butRTd. ii. 347 ; iii. 45.
blank. iT, 119.
^H buUUk. iii. 214.
bleaking-hooK, t. 106.
^H buiiu beaten when bawds.
blocks, iii. 107. 147.
^H 8cc., were carted, iii. 238.
blue gown worn by strumpeti
^H basket, the. v. 142.
iD peoance, iii. 220.
^H battler, r. 644.
blue worn by beadles, i- 485.
^H bauble, iT. 247.
blue worn by KrTant*, ii. 26 ;
^H bawdt. ring! worn bj. i. 80.
iii. 146; T. 109.
^H Beauchamp, bold, u. 411.
blurt, iii. 30.
^H Bear, the, at the Bridge-foot,
board, IT. 5 [and Ad. & for.
■
i. UniL]
^M beu- ia hand, ii. 456 ; iii. 373.
^M beving, u. 529.
boards, u. 542.
^H beaten, >. 491.
Bocardo, ii. 120.
^K^^^ beau chalk, iii. 221.
boiled, ii. 544. 1
^H "^
^^^^^^1
bolster!, iv. 45Z.
bulchini, iii. 524.
bolt, iii. IBS.
bulk, iii. 177! »-509.
bull-beggar., n. 20.
bombuted. m. 198.
Bumby, mother, iv. 124.
bonner, t. 378.
bums. i. 432 ; ii. SaS.
booked it, iii. 594.
bum.roli, iv. S51.
books, in mjr, iii. 349.
bnoDB-rob., i. 258; ii. IGO;
booted, ». 566.
iii. 132.
boot-h«kr«. ii. 532.
Burbage, v. 303.
borachlo, IT. 103.
burgonet, i. 231.
bosl. Y. 567-
burgh, ii. 165.
boughU, iu. 381.
Burae, the, u. 510! v. *85.
botuing ken, ii. 53S.
burst, V. 412.
[\>ow»]in\t,Ad.eiCor.i.hs.]
buryingioonejr, i. 81.
buBk-points, v. 515.
liD»-wide, ■, i. 4S9.
brabbling nutter, iii. 458.
Butler, Dr. W., i. 37.
bnu^ks, iT. 6.
byrliidj. i. 135; ii. 66; iii.
Bniinford, 1. 450; ii. 463;
9 ; iv. 530.
iv. 37; V. 159.
byrlakins. iv. 480.
branched, v. 103.
bj«s. V. 558.
Bnmdon, iU. 632.
brave, ii. 543 ; iU. 15 ; iv.
cabiahBl, V. 35.
135 ; T. 25.
cabrito, iv. 404.
br&velT, if. 504.
enlWiuoocher. i. 174.
bnver, i. 430.
cidtrop, iv. 623.
bnivn7,i.28;iT.I67i V.490.
uamooch, i. 239.
Bnu™ H™d. the, ii. 523.
canu-in, the, iii. 39 : iv. 174.
bread and «at. taking, iii. 103.
caniana, iii. 573.
brwking-np, •>. 574.
canker, in. 501.
breaft. ir. fi83.
cannot leU. ui. 357,
I bnath, T. 431.
cant, V. 208.
■ Bretnor, iii. 6S7i t. 149.
canter, iii. S12.
■ BrideweU, iii. 222.
cantle, v. 209.
W brief, V. 23.
capachity, i. 277.
■ broker, i. 248.
CatieUo, Bianci, iv. 516.
broking, i. 248.
carkanet, ii. 300.
bronitropB, iii. 508.
brothel, li. S.
camifexei, iiL 523.
brown-bill, i. 237.
carpet, i. 386; iU. 83.
brait«d, U. 138.
carpet -knights, iii. 61.
eaaiTiv. 1T7.
bnbba™,iT. 121.
BucVierabury, iv. 48.
eaiible. iv. 322.
bucklen, indent, iii. 147.
cast, i. 288; ii. 201.
bndgeUing. t. 30.
cast. i. 158; ii.201; iii. 296;
■ bugle-browed, iv. 478.
iv. 92.
■ VOL. V. 3
^
^^^B^H
6M WBM TO TBS Mm. ^
c>K.t.44t: t*. IR.
gw*r.g.<W-_
.^ SW <f. (f . M7.
LITfTiLSBb
Ccuia. m. I»l.
dly ■■■ ik. *. H»: :<^
nun't. H. AM.
.«£ A 0«-. L tBoLl
Cal0. U. 1>.
rita.(t. Mi.
otto. 1.394 i m. in.
fMBf. >. tSI.
rarvUed. iL tlO.
i«iK.mi :<iB4 3^ A
OrUr. St.. n. 310.
C^. LfaoL]
ctUtBdc, U. 173.
ceiwtre, i. MTi ii. Ml &
(taif7,fi.IiS.
«8i W. Sllli».««.
dtt>.* MS.
«™ii™d. U, 227.
dv.t.U3;>.XS4:n.9(:
«*t«.. Ui. «B.
». JIO.
3*7,
arts.""
rfuldnm., iU. 55.
■Mi.ctaKL«<T:B.U.
Ck>Uot>er. J>a>b. «. ftti
(aali.i.5).
oate. !««. i. in. ,
i^buubon. «. ISO.
nJ.-.a.HtT.r.-JAJ.fc<W. ■
i-kii] 3MH
rliBupin, H. 7S.
chu>«ilu>c. i». 4*1.'
K. WO; t. £77. ^^^1
rbi«. Hi. 337 ; i*. US.
cock-Aoot. B. »3. ^^^1
pturi^. tlie MWUble't, t.
Cockpit. <k. ruw dn^^H
138.
phAm, in. a3.
c^^ElTii^'^H
ch.tn. .. «}.
«>d,ri«e, iriiM MKk ^-^^H
Ciuunioo. iu. ill ; t. 540.
^^H
chart. Ui. SOS.
c«g. i. 2iSi ii.617; ir. «T! ■
cbmon, ii. 6«.
I. 71. fi7B. 1
(4»nt.lraichen. podo on.
U 81 : iu. SS.
eop. W. 123. J
rbewitt. iii. 373.
Cabs. old. iii. 300 ; r.»^ aj. ■
diick, i. 279.
& fer. i. Uxi.] ^^^H
Coie-Hirtxmr.u.iSi i^.^^^H
cliiU>, ii). 51*.
^^^H
cUMlMt. it 381.
ooU. UL 260. ^^^H
rhittiaau, i. MO.
•KMt,^. X. ^^^M
(^binjr. i. 236.
collowe.1. u. ^^^H
CWdng ia»g ind Q«M.
colon. Ui. S03; it. n. ^^^H
>. III.
crUma, ii. ^^^H
Combe Park. iL !M ; «.<^^^H
'hriiom, il. 276.
come cut fid h>i>K faul. <^^^l
INDEX TO
come aloft, Jack. iii. 112 ; ir.
123.
come off ronndly, iii. tlS.
commodity, it 361.
commonly, taking up a, i.
4S0.
connnon place, ii. 336; it.SS.
companions, ii. 26 ; iii. 27.
oamplement, ii. 333 ; [and
Ad. & Cor. i. brrii.]
conceit, i. lS7i iii. 393; v.
42.
conceitedly, i. 179-
conclurioni, iii. 259 i W. 1 23 ;
V, 520.
condition, i. Si.
. 150; iu. 292;
iv. 23S i T. 14.
conaort, i. 75; ii. 127; Iii.
211.
coiuter, iii. 6t; t. aST.
contain, i. 357 i ii. 315.
cODveyance, ii. 2911 1 t. 617.
cony, Iii. 31f.
aony-ctOchiDg, i. 290 ; ii. 67 ;
iii. 16 ; iv. 134 ; t. 195.
ooDy-akini, ii. 123.
copy, iii. 401.
oorago, ii. 533.
coranto-pace, iii. 627.
Cornelianiua Dolium, attri-
buted to t{andol|>h, most
prolubly n-ritten by Brath-
Comeliua' dry-hto. i. 230;
[and Ad. & Cor. i. Ixii.]
Comeliuii' tub, ii. 160.
Comiab hng, iii. 4S().
Comiah cliongb. iii. 481.
coronet, t. 277.
corpi,iT.32; \»niAd.tcCsT.
i. I
'=;]
i. 193.
coted, ii. 342.
cotqaeiuu, ii. i86.
cottena. ii. ISO; v.
cooght, T. 468.
cracked in the ring, ii. 3S3 ;
p nng, I
519.
crank, ii. IS.
cried, iv. 5<I5.
Crismaa, Garret, ». 2M.
cross OD coins, i. 246 ; ii.
122; iii. tits,
cross, creeping to the, ii. 114.
cross.biter, ii. 260.
cros>-Uya, v. 642.
crowd, i. 110.
cruel garters, v. f IS.
cmiadofs, lit. S3,
cock, ii. 568.
cocking-itool. ii. IBS.
cue, T. 645.
coition, y. 534.
collis, U. 151) Ui. 271; i*.
338.
mirbcrt, ii. 5*6.
inriotu, i. SlT: ii. 403.
Curtain, the, t. SSfi.
i-arttl, i. 237 t ui. 38.
custard, n love-prewnt, i. Hi.
coBlode. IT. 311.
cut, i. SOS.
cut ben vhidt. ii. 542.
rutted, i. 20S ; ii. 666.
cjprets, T. 49.
di^, i. 349; U. 352.
D««ger.|>iea, i*. 48S.
duggered inn*, iil. £3.
[dsnce in a net, Ad. & Cor. i.
daailyprat, i. 246 ; iil. 590.
dare larks, iii. 12S.
daw, i. 307.
dead ptyB, Ir. 434.
dear, i. 189.
dearer, iii. 307.
deareat, ir. 4E6.
defr,i. GISi u.97i iU. iHt
IT. lis.
deU, ii. 338i iii. 606.
Denmark -House, t. 166.
departed, T. 533.
Derrick's necklaces, t. 515.
descried, i. S2(S,
devotion, v. 62.
DirgD, don. i. 293.
Digbf, sir Ereiard. alluxion
to bis c«ecution. i. 451.
dill. IT. 167.
diminiting, iii. 45R,
diMosed, i. 450; iU. 812.
disgest. ii. 250 1 iii. 454: iv.
200 ; T. 3S4.
dUliked, IT. 570.
dislacale thy bladud, iii. 509.
ditch, ii. 315.
dive^pper, ii. 87 i iii- 59U.
DiTelin, ir. 500.
do witfaal. IT. 20.
DoddipoU, doctor, ii. ISS.
Dotp, Isle of, ii. 535.
door-keeper, t. 525.
doabti, ii. 57.
Dowland's Lacrjnue, t. IS.
dresser, cook knockinf OD,
&c., L 247.
drink tohaoco, iL 457 ; iii. 213.
drunk, iii. 162.
drr-fiated, iii. 39.
duke, t. 17T.
dumb-ahow, n. 361.
DunoM, iv. 52.
Dunklrks, iiL 132; t. 10.
Dutch slap. ii. 472.
Dutch widow. U. SO.
earns, iii. 503.
eat soakEB, iii. 140.
Ebusui, iv. 401.
egrimonj', t. 196,
Egypt, child of, iii. 361.
eke, ti. 167.
eU, i. 278 : iii. 624.
elephant and camels, the, it.
lae.
Elinor, queen, sinking at
Cboring-Cross and ridni;
at QuMuhithe, iii. 355 ; ir.
4117.
eU. iv. +41.
enginer, v. 248.
enginoua, t. 316.
BBtridge, T. 239.
Europa's BeB.fami, ii. 178 1
[■od Ad. it Car. i. lirL]
^■^^H
^^H^^^^^I^^^^H^^^^^^I ^^^^1
INDEX TO THE 620 ^^f
Euphuiic. T. seu.
^^H
cxereisc, i. 211; ii. IS3.
Digbi, ^^^M
time. U. ^^H
fiitter-mouK.iii. 261. ^^^M
fadom. ii. 387.
^^^M
fadge, U. BT.
fiorena. iv. 2S6. ^^^M
fiigiry, ii. 53fl.
fbi>ta. ii. £46; iv. 118. ^^^H
ftiir, y. 360.
fbnd, i. 268 ; ii. 449 ; Hi. 18 i ^^^H
fsirrfoodilioned, T. SSi.
318 ^^^H
Ml*, or faUing bindi. ii. 218,
fondlj. u. 343. ^^^M
438 ; iii. S7.
rondoesi, iii. S91. ^^^H
laniUiar. ii. 4B2: [ani Ad. &
fooCcloUu, i. 396; ii. 369; ^^^M
Cor. L bnri.]
iii. 194; [ani Ad. &. Cor. ^^^M
Family of Lore, account of,
i. liviii.] ^^^M
U. 103, IS6; iv. 437.
^^^M
fancy, ii. B7 i ii. 45B.
tor and. iii. S44. ^^^H
far. iv. «)2.
foreflnger. the, i. 32S. ^^^H
farcsla, iv. il2.
former. ^^^M
Fortane, the, ii. 435. ^^^M
ee.
far-fet. T. 376.
'found, iii. IIS. ^^^H
1 fiuhom, i. 41Sl ii. 334.
foutra, ^^^H
■ (kt-sug chin, V. 514.
■ holt, 1. 62.
fiued, i. 313 i*. 142. ^^^H
frampote, 140. ^^^^1
r> Faiutiui, doctor, T. SIS.
franked, iv. 401. ^^^M
■ fiwr. il. 401 ( iii. 467-
&tsh-»0Duui, iv. ^^^M
'ftection, V. 97.
frippery, ii. 222. ^^^^^H
fegarr,iY. IIS.
^^H
fclfare, iy. 429.
froaling. 69. ^^^^1
(at. iii. 67.
^^^H
Br. the. iii. 421.
fnimped. ii. 517. ^^^M
fiK-fnUli. U. 287.
fUL-UB, iii. ^^^H
ftggiog-U*, ii. 5+4.
figient.iT. 61.
_ filed, U. 289.
gallant, ii. 543 ; iii, 193, ^^H
I find. i. 237.
galleai,H».ii, 19. ■
■ fire.drolH».ii, 267.
galley-foiil, u. S31 ; iu. 212. I
■ first |Mrt of a gncceisful play
galliard, i. 6S : in. 631. ■
gally-gaK:ojM, iii. 405. d
■ tecoDd put. iii. 4ns.
■ fi.t.iU. 71.
gamboU. v. ^^^1
■ fltlen, ii. 48.
gameater, iii. 274. ^^^H
■ flag on a theatre, ii. 332.
gander- mconen. iii. S3B. ^^^H
r flap-dragon. i. 66; ii. 09 !
gardcn-houK.i. 162;iil. 18Si ^^H
iii, 112.
586 ^^^M
^^I^^BH
H 630 IKDEX TO THE ^^^
^1 Gwden-liDll.iT. 230.
Gougb, Aluutder. iii. 311.
^r gitcoyoB-btide. ii. SiS.
gown, a looM-bodied, i. 431;
^" giBonynea, V. 567.
fd. 67 i V. 625.
gutrulopUe, iii. S(7.
Gnnthaoi Meeple, v. S23.
g»udj-day«. ». 5iS.
great, the, i. 4!»2.
nDdy-ihini*, W. 16.
g«u-, i. 373; U. 87 i ii. 'i;
^ Y. iSO.
Gnxks. mud, iii. S6.
K gdt feather., ii. 527.
Greene. Roliert.i.290iT.SSl-
GrHham'l Bnrae. iv. IG.
H ii. 4I2.45S.
grincom™. iL 121.
H george. iv. 498.
grinds Id the mill, iii. 221.
H Oermxi clock, ii. 3SS.
ETowt, iv. 164.
^H Germsn, the high, U. Mti ;
gmtdied. iv. 473.
■ [uid v4</. ft Cor. i. UTiu.]
guanled. lU. 236.
^r GenuHnii, i«. 118.
gne«.i.8U6; ii. flS ; v. 6l«
^ gib. ii. ai8.
Guiana, voyage to, iv. 426,
ciglot, ii. IIJ!.
guitonens, ir. 324.
giU,U.llfii iT.77i «.H8.
gnlei. iiL 01 ; i*. 158.
gilt, or gelt. U. W.
gulled, iv. 381-
gin. i. 288.
^H ging, u. 932; iv. 141.
K gii?, ii. 130.
gummed. iv. 4+3.
Gilttide, ii. IS9,
^M girl worth gold, ii. 523,
^H givcD the bu. iv. 410.
^H give* aim, ii. 33S ; iii. 453 ;
hood. iv. 483.
^H
hair. agaiDat the. i. 163 1 iii.
H gloEien, ii. 535.
377 ; T, 11).
H gleek. V. 142.
halfm«n><i. U. 382.
H gkuy-ikt, V. 517.
bangen. ii. 227 1 iii. ISa ; v.
H god-den, !v. 19.
H GodevB, iv. 490.
567.
barticbalka, T. 39.
H God's a good mui, ii. 475.
Uarvev, Gabriel, Richard, uid
H God's mjr pittikiiiB. iu. 37.
John. V. eei.
■ GodVunlT.iii. 114.
H goldfinch, 1. 233.
hui, i, 72.
hast. V. 483.
hatcht, u. 2ST.
■ ii. 297.
haut. ir. 135.
H golls, i.206; ii. 452; lU. 13 i
B ■"• 33 • ''- ^33-
3Sg : V. 42.
B gom. iii. 359.
haj. iv. 587.
B B°°d> ">' '^<ic-
heal, iii, 278.
B good fellow, u. 21 i iii. 19 j ;
heailh-driuking. fonni in. ui.
■
29.
H gouip, i. 480.
healths in uriDC, ii. 99.
^^^H^^^l ^^^1
^^^^^IHJI^^^^H^I ^^^1
^,.„„
HE NOTES. 631
be»r«. it. 501.
incBBtancy, i. 268.
incoiants, v. 44S.
Ad.KCor.\.\ii.]
hem, iii. S23.
iv. 283.
beoch-boj, ii. 159.
incony. L 252.
Hero uid Leonder, Hulowe'a.
in dock, out DMtle, iu. 611 ;
ii-SV).
V. ISO.
huVmni, ii. 313.
ingle, i. 262, ii.fil7.
ingle,!. 301; it. 498; Ui. 15.
hight. i. 192; V. 296.
inkling, V. 497.
injury, ii. 280.
HireD. i. 76.
innocence. Iv. 2!I9.
ho. i. 287.
innocent, iv. 451 i v. 500.
ho. th^rc'inn. iii. 106.
inn-panble kntve, i. 324.
Uobfon, IT. 7 ; t. fiSHi.
instance, ii. 119.
hole, ii. 400.
inward. i.44fl-,u. 234.
Hole, the, i. 392 : ii. 69; iii.
Ireland, purged from veooin-
376; T. 101.
ou! creatures by St, Patrick,
HoUmtide. ii. 165.
iii. 177: It. 495.
honey-lingned. t. 177.
Irish, ii. 528.
Horn, the, V. 574.
!rL.hrootnieD,iii.l31; V.531.
horns for the thnmb. ii. 636.
darts carried
hotse and fcmt. i. SBO.
by, iii. 530.
bone, Banks'!, .. iSS.
Ivd, ui. 539.
hofie-trick, i. 63.
ivy-bush of a tavern, iv. 177,
ho«, i. 367t ii. 150; iU. 67 i
i-wis. i. 451.
iT. 38!) i V. 128.
I wuB, i. 327.
how. in your t'other, n. 145.
[hoiqiM. J-*- * Car. i. loii.]
jack, i. 255.
hoipital-buyB, i. 497.
jaeki. iv. 627.
HiUdrick, his Epistle to Ni-
cholii>,.iv. 407 ; [uid Ad.
jacks, iii. 112; v. 003.
& Or. i. UriT.]
Janivero, Ui. 94.
javri, iii. 157.
•rlule bis irife is breeding,
jeelions, iv. 326.
iv. S99.
jealons, ii. 216) v. 61.
IgDstiiu Lorala, iv. 310.
jeiffiei, V. 369.
■ [IU May-diiv, Ad. & Cor. i.
jeta. iiL 147: W. 167; v- 21.
L . "^-^ .„
jiga. V. 669.
jig-makera. iii. 10.
■ improve, iv, 420 i t, £61;
■ imd Ad. Sl Cor. i. Inii.]
iobbering, ii. 534-
■ in-uid-iD, V. 142.
V. 553.
^K 632 IRBEI TO TUB NOTES. H
^H JanwQ, Ben, imiutol, ii. 117.
kurming^j. it. 38. ■
ky«.ii.«S. 1
1
^M Butholomrw Fair rxylna-
Uced mutton, i. 230. '
^B ed, 1. 51fi.
^1 Judas nith tbe red bevd. it.
l«nnu^, IT. 184.
H jugll, iii. tso.
283 ; [u>d J.f. & Cor. i.
■ jXn, iY. 40Z.
Irii.]
^B jDlinB Ccnr, motiOD of, T.
I>i>wing, Mratacem of, i. 88.
^B
Urge. 1. iii. 635.
^1 jiint. ii. flii.
Iwigh and lie down, i. 269.
lavender, in, ii. 150.
^1 k> me. ka thee. iii. E72.
Uvolta, i. 351 ; iiL 628.
^B keep a door, iii. 184.
lay, iii. 23.
^B fcMii 4;<il with, iii. Sn.
hiying. ii. Ill iv. 74.
H k«r,», i. vn.
Leatica, iu. 213.
■ k«>, U. 129.
leek, iii 200.
leeaing, I 263 ; b. 301 ; iiL
H kem, m. 174.
28.
^B tl'^"7 ""^ '"'*■ ■*<'■ * '^'"'■
leetoanr, n. 131.
■ i. Uil-l
leg«, iii 84; iv. 601; ». 673.
H keramed, i. 429.
leijM, ii.ai6i «. 524.
B KenmSB. V. IS!*.
leman, iv. 182.
■ kerilen, iv. 38.
lerry, L 281.
K ketterf, t. 643 i [and Ad. &
let, 1. tS9.
■ C«r. i. luvi.]
letK.iL41JSi iU.877i v. 31.
■ kiffnorfcin. iv. 66.
lewd, L 498.
■ klnchia mort, Ii. S3S.
Uberal. iL 190; v. 601.
■ kind, U. 3S2; it. 372.
lie, L 300: Ijuid Ad. & Cor.
LbdiL]
B kii. ii. 4; iv. 4.
lib ken. iL 639.
H Kiuvei, orden of, U. 174.
Ufterg, iL 546.
^B kneeling after the pliT, ii.
like, i 132; ii. 47 ; iilSn-.
■ 418iiv. 202.
iv. leSi V. 64.
^M kneeling in health- drinking.
iimb-Uftor, E 206.
■ iii. 216.
Ijmbo, V, fil4.
■ knight of the |ic»t. i. 3UB ;
Iin,iil429; jv.51; v. 533. 1
■
linstock, ii 331. J
K knight of Windsor, ii. 336.
Lipiiaa. It. 250. J
H Knight's w>rd, i. 302; ii.
H 2'.i7 : iv. !I6.
liver, il 133. ■
H knighta crested b; King
loath to depart, L 80. ■
H Jimes, BlIUBion to, ii. 333,
log] for Chriatmai, L 457. ■
^B bureen, iv. H.
long, a, UL 623. V
LongMie, u. S ; [and Ad. &
Car. L liT.]
loon. ti. U7.
^,m.S2■, V. 310.
iL IS8; TT. 3S0i
lycAnthrope, r
.2*7-
mue. oU of, ii. 372.
m^rio, iv. 407.
tudc. h. 244.
miJe women, iL 400.
mode sure, iL 489.
Modrill, iv. 104.
Magw, IT. 40E.
Rugot-n'-pie, iiL GOB.
Msin, St., it. SIO.
make, L 401,
nuke ■ bglt or ■ ihoft on't,
U.34.
nuke bottoiu, if. ISl.
rosVing, u. S3.
■Diking read;, 1 'itS ; ii. SZ4 >
lii. 39G.
make unreadf , iL 57 ; iii. 17H,
mile ™let, iii. 77.
mJichnllj, iiL SB.
muiihet*, t
L 1T9.
; iu. as,
muidrBke, iiL 13.
muitiui, T. 4tf7.
nuple-fftccd, ii- 367.
mtnuowt, i, 387 < 111. 37 { t,
904.
toMqacae, iL 74.
inuty, mulf, L 218 i lii. 10 1
y, S93. I
muTedi,-iv. 111). ^m
Muter-iildfl.i. gP2l Ii >«■
nuMer;, U. 311. ^V
mutf, a 17. M
■natch, 1. 4114,
nuundecBr upon tli* |iiul, II.
mumdcring, U. 04! I I*. 13t|
T. HB,
Kuiuiding, V. IflT.
nuui Bvtx, lU. SiO.
m*w, fl«e-flD((<r U, IL iVftd
Mif.butldr, V, I'i. ^
Mayur'i bmob ■! Oifardia
«2S. ^
tsl.
. 111. 83,
muMrd, Iv, 38(1
mcBCODk, UL 8X
mnuM. It. WO,
mrann. I SM | tr. ART.
rowt, 111 iM,
'.II. I
Mm of
[Mid.
^i/. A r:«i-. L1«I<.T|
tarn cimtmi'l. >. 1*
merri)', I. VHl | |>. tJA,
■ncrilnrtm*. >, 34A,
■namuild, L 1%.
Mttmm, III. OM,
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H
^m 6S4 UCDEX TO THE XOTES. ^^^
^H [Midsumner watch, A4. &
My-«™-h«,-piggcd.T. 143. 1
^H Cor. i. Lcxtl}
mysteri«, iL 5U7. ■
^M Milhin, hi> imiution of Hiy-
1
^H wo«], i. 3J0.
Mperj, UL SG.
NMb, ThomM, hii Kctct
Penmie»e,ir. 511.512.
^1 dletoti, iT. SIS.
^H minded, i. IT9.
, d*te of hi.
^M mioikm. ii. t-27.
deith, ».6!7! Imai AK.i,f
^M MitTi>iofKiiighcha(Nl,iii.I8l.
UUUIehH nd til IFcrft,
^M Mirror of MugutratM, i. 238.
i. wiii.]
^H Miinite, Lord of, i. SOS.
w. L 421
^H mitirera, T. 66.
neut*. L 417.
^H Mitre, the. iL 240 ; i. S7«.
ncck-vciw. >. 126.
^1 HinJdni, hii Secreti in Nb-
needle, iv. 403.
^B tore, iv. £63.
needle-burded, t. I9B.
^H aionrf dropt into shoes b;
ne'er the new. v. 3SS. ,
^H fiuriea, iil 609.
nemli tout aaaa. L 193. M
^B monkcT'g ordinur, ir. 369.
NewnicbUekdagtof.T.SII. ■
^1 Moniieur, iL 389 ; t. 519.
New-luigle. v. S64. ■
■ monOilf , ii 652.
Dice. i. 136. ■
H man, L 432.
nicely, v. S6. 1
H mother, L 186; iii 41.
niceneu, L I8d ; iL 134 ; iiL 1
H notioti,i 22<l;ii19; v.S9l.
451 i IT. 3ia
H Motte, Moniieur, L ISO.
nigget. i». 247.
H moul, V. 419,
night-nuk, L Ifl4.
H Mount, the, iii. 4S2.
wgnim, T. 411.
B (nought, i. 495; ii. S6i ui.
NineTcb, Diotiaa of, j. 329 :
■
iv. 188; T, 891.
■ mouw, ii 137.
ningles. iL 498; iii 60; iv.
■ mach. i. 3o7.
171; [uid Ad. Sc Cor. i
ixii.] 1
■ muckinder, ii. 83.
nipa, iL 54«. M
nipiDfGtifiis. iii259. ■
■ mullwiDee, L 391.
nipping Chriatian, ii. S3S. ■
■ Mutr Crass ohee.iT. 161.
no, L 169; iL 538 1 iiL 238; ■
IT. 43; <, 119. 1
■ MundiT, AathoDT, v. 219.
noble, iL 17; iii. 271: >. 267. 1
nock, i. 282. 1
noddy, i. 273) y. 142. J
■ murrion, iiL US.
Doiu Of Gddlen. E 493; ui 1
303 ; Y. 529. ■
■ muM. iL 379 i it. 122.
nonce. iL 71: t. S92. ■
■ muttoii.iii. lD3,iT. 23.
northern dozens, i 172. ■
^H munon-moager, iiL 162.
noul, iT. 142. ■
■ My-lady'.-hole.v. 143.
X TO IHB NOTES.
O mm in lament&tioii, U. 64.
obtTEct, iii. SOS.
of, iii a56 1 iv. 386 ; T. SSI.
of croes. iii Stilt.
oil of ben, iii 36li.
old, il S3S 1 IT. S70.
Oliver, iweet, iii 40.
opinion, iL S37>
Conrngodo, Ad. & Cor. i In.]
Orata. Si-rgiaa, iv. 402.
ordinary, Biipennir,&c..L 389;
». 72.
□rdinary, gsmbling at, i 434 ;
iv. 4^7.
organ! diililud bj pnrilatu,
ii 1A3; It. 488.
0«tead, ^ege of, iii 7S.
otherg^, i 240.
0 Toole, iii 520.
ought, JT. 487 ; *. 28.
out-crjf, ir. J8.
over I vai, iii. 410.
orer-braTo, t. 167.
orerflowD, i 390.
OTcrture, ii 112.
owes, i 271; it. 204; t. SS.
owt in an iij-biufa, to look
lilie an, It. 177.
{lair of organs, ii 346; iii 147.
pair of Tii]{ina]», iii 211.
pack, ii 447-
painted cloth, iii 97; t. 208.
palliard, U. S4I.
panada, iii 271.
pined how, L 2S ; [and Ad,
& Cor. i liL]
Fancridge, iii £46.
pantaloon, It. 173.
{laDtsplcs. i 286.
paotolleii, iii 111 ; iv. 483.
parbreaking, T. 73.
parcel -rascals, T. ISO.
ParloDS Pood, ii. 409.
paaaionaU, t. S93.
paaaianateiji i 35.
Patrick. St., hia Purgatorf,
iii 131 ; ir. 475.
Eity, T. aOa.
iQl'* Saint. Middle Aide of,
I 41Sl iiSgO; T. 494.
pavin, i 237.
pax. a 24.
pear- coloured, iii. 109.
pearl io the eje, iv. 123.
pectoral, T. 'itia.
pedlar'i French, ii 193.539.
peeii^, ii. 78 ; iii fi35 ; t.
as.
pccp>, T. £81.
pegmn, t. 310 ; [and Ad, fc
for. i UiTi.]
peiie, ii. 142: iii 62,
pelt, iv. 219.
pelican feeding H» young with
ber blood, iii US.
peaance, iv. 108.
|)eiwiled, V. 209.
penny-fBther, t. £30;
Po'ryn, iii o39.
perceiverance, iii 3H8,
percullis, iii. 102.
perfurmenti, iv. 313.
periwig! vom by ladiea, ii
30(i.
^^^^|H
636 IKDBX to TMS K0TE8. ^
Petcr-auneene, iij 213; W.
314.
poor-John. i. S43.
pitroael, ii. 151.
Wtronai. St. W. 3101 [end
populooi, ii. 34B.
porter, the long, ■». 1*4.
Ad. & Tor. i. Uiiii]
Philip. > nunc for i sparrao,
poSH't* eUen jnst before bed-
iil 38S.
time, iii. 814.
'poatle -spoon*, iv 47-
phraBipel. ii, til.
poBtg U a sheriff's door, iii.
■licludill, T. 171.
58.
pickaroat, ir. IIH.
uoBller'i. ik 4fi 1 iv. 72 i ».
pick. iY 11.
pigH«ter, ii. 59.
ftct-lmtcb, .. 312.
14U.
Ponltrr. T. SSI.
PigwiM. the Thn*. ii 479.
practice, L 160.
plgsnie. a 468.
pr™kioBnp,iv.59.
piUo-beera i». Sli.
hMingM^nduil, iT. 53.
preued, L 129.
precept, i. 308.
pUt. il 480 i IT. 282 i V. 18.
prrtend, iv. 270.
pi>tol«. or pistolra, iii. G3.
pment.L16;iL49!iiLlll3i
piirtolet. iT. U6.
iv. 911; T. 28*.
pilch and psT. i. 242-
prick, T. 186.
pUcket, ih 4S7 ; iil. S41 : iv.
prick and praiw. ix. 133; iv.
4*7.
586.
pl>p,yram™er.v-518.
pricklc-ringinj. V. 584.
pLdc», wrj moDth like >. uL
prick-song. iiL (!2U ; iv 683 :
153.
T. 583.
prigging, ii. 62.
Ad. and for. L Uvi ]
plaj prize, iiL 86.
pUy at barriera. ii 1S9.
[please ji>u be here, Ad. &
princoeka. t. 494l
print, in, i. 278; iii la.
for. E. Ldx.]
r plot. T. 352.
pluok ■ rose. iv. 223.
prog™». iv. 23.
plunge, a 511; iii. 604.
Plymouth cloak, iii. 179.
pramoter. iiLlID; iv. 91.
pocaa pakbru, u. 546
proper. J. 330; iiL 47; iv.
_ points, 1. 214 1 ii 19fi ; y.
244 : T 75.
■ 531.
propertv. iii 640; v. 39.
H poker, iil 35.
■ poking-rtick., i. 279.
V. 308.
H poltfoot, lu, 109 : T. G34.
H Polycarp. iv. 310.
[prophet, the new. -4d,& Cor.
\ Uxi,.]
IMDBX TO THE NOTES.
PriMpero, ». Sl!£.
pDMtitates Bnpping with the
plajera. ii. 412.
pnnsnt, iiL 528.
prormnt breeches, ii. 489.
pruned, it. 23S.
pnlmograph, v. 177.
puck-fout, lii. 010.
padding tobieco, ii. 39! ; iii,
S12.
pngganb, ii. 546.
pullen, iL 242 1 iu. 606 ; IT. US.
porchue, i, 319; ii. 231 ; iii,
199.
pntli, T. 587.
poraeneti, ii. 617 ; iii. 207.
puih, 1. 29; U. 24; ii. 259:
V. M.
pniiU, Iv. 32*.
put on. iv. 17.
pat up. i. 290 ; iii. S63.
puttDcIu, 1). 500.
[qludnuigiilarpliiiiisdoa,iJif.
& Cor. i. Iixii.]
qoail.pipe, ui. 144.
qsail-pipe boot, 1. 244.
qnarreli, iii. 4B2.
qiuiter-jaclu in Paul's , v. 5 54.
qneaijr, i. 321; ii. 23«.
QuMnhiTe, U, 37.
qneer ennn, il. 539,
QaeM-bODK, iv. 425.
qnertuBiy, ii. 188.
quit, iii. 4U2.
qnit, iii. 495 ; t. 38.
qnil, iv. 346 ; t. 94.
quo', i. 4S4.
read;, iii. 35.
real*, iv. 170.
rw, It. 381 1 V. 192.
reclaim, iv. 428.
recordera, iv. 93.
reouUisuicc, i. 483.
reduce, iii. 494.
red lattice, v. 539.
red letter, ii. ISS.
Red-ahonks. iU. 481.
reeks, iii. 266.
rerDL-ilUtian, u. 371.
reftue, v. 118.
remembered, be, ii. 526.
i. 4S4.
i. 131 i
I. sn.
remorHiful, v. 582.
Reeolution, the, ii. 340.
resolved, i. 215: fl, 23;
101 1 IT. 7t: V. 36.
respective I i. 425.
respective!;, ii. 235 -, iii. '
re«t, s
i. 516.
;up.
. 428.
Hargt, i
Richards. Nathaniel, iv.61S.
Rider's Dictionuy, iv. 66 j
[and Ad. & Cor. i. liiUi.]
ring, nuining at the, i. 390 ;
ii. 207; iii- 172; «. 262.
ring, tread the, i. 300.
rings, gilt, coiening with, It.
I6S.
rise, V. 311.
risse, i. 465 : ii. 360 ; v. 368.
riven dish, ii. 517.
rivo, i. 243.
rouing bojs, ii. 427 ; iii. 483.
Roaring Girl, the, account of,
ii. 427.
"^"^^^^H
638 IKDIX TO TliK SOTU. 1
nib.. L Hi.
Suietiw. ftt. IT. 403.
roc, If. 1». 311.
Koch, 81., Iv. 310 i [laiAd.
•apt. IT. 402.
A Cor. 1. LuiU.l
ntircdaji, t. 482.
Bad»Ur. li. 120.
ropUon, U. 130.
«Tin-tr«. ir. 321.
roU, ill. 5l£.
B.TOT, the, iL 233.
Romv, ni to, wiOi > nu>rur.
«,. ;. 263.
IT. 135.
widJ. iiL 15. 41.
rope for p«wt.iii. 113.
roTKniMj. I. 231 : lu. ISl.
SciTophorioii. i. 50; ■iHJ,4<f.
roK-iiobk. ii. 253.
& Car. i. liL]
R»a oil ihoM, il. AU.
.conco. i. 283.
round, lh«, ii. 1»0 1 Ui. 25S !
•oopknu, T. SOI.
Iv. 587.
uom the motioD, 1. 171; iii.
roand*rith. ii. 341.
606.
rouDdH, li. 381) t.530.
nmm, 1. 391.
rout, ii. 200.
TOtC. iii. hi.
Knrtfmxxmj Tunej. i. 129;
[•nd Ad. & Tor. i. Uj..]
[row, the. Ad. Si. Cor. i, tiiv-]
Mirclwr*. i. 491.
rowi, ». 462.
Kct, ii. 134.
Rowie;, WiUiua, iii. 446,
uck, to, i. 189 ; iii. 59S.
Rawte. old, v. S40.
Mxl;, T. 392.
roT^,i.345i il.43i t. 572,
n>b«. .. G6.
wductheU, i. 7.
Stlkoger'. nxind, t. 578.
niffler, U. 537.
Kt Uie hire'i head to the
rub., it. 1*.
EOOM-iiblet, ii. 7B.
RumboU. St.. i.. 3S».
nwcr, Y. 260.
runu, iT. 66.
nubM, i. 134 1 iT. 54.
di.g.b<riiTd.iii. 173.
ncklnita. i. 177; 1>. 120.
270 1 ii. 203, 331, 36a.
Hd, i, 316.
386i Ui. 56, 79. 213; [ud
Hdneai. ii.492: iii. 430 i iv.
..4d. Si Cbr. i. Ini., Iiii.]
601.
^pr», V. 209.
S>int PulcW., T. 527.
ihUT, ii. 406.
uker, iU. 214.
■bvk-guU, T. 524.
nken, iv. 122.
■hells, ii. 543 ; iu. 182.
nlomon, ii. 63S.
■hittle-cork, iv. 54.
■bo« the mue, t. 143.
405.
■hopi, open, iU. 54 1 iT.44ai
MlU. T. 491.
1. 587.
SuDilMII. pUf of, ii, 124.
■bop>. du-k, i. 482; iv. 442.
Nmcltcd, T. 465.
.hovel-board (hilling, ii. 531.
^^^3Hi"9
^^^^^^^^^^IMBBX TO THE NOTEB. flS^^^^^^H
■quail, iii. 55 1 V. 575. ^^M
Bhrieri, ii. 318.
sqau^. u. 173. ^H
Shrore T<iada.j. enstoml OD,
■qiurei, u. 124. ^^M
iii. 217i V. U7.
>q>Ut. V. ^H
diro>, Iii. 29.
■qaelched, iv. 410. ^^M
ddemen, i. 362.
Bijaire, iii. 232. ^^M
logo, blood-letting according
Bqiiireofthebod;r->"'231. ^^H
to. ii. 98.
BtabliinK of irmn, ti. 99. ^^M
rinqnapace. iii. 633 ; h. bST.
Btage. thE apper, ii. 12^; iu. ^^M
■imb. ii. 491 ) iii. 14.
314; iv, 5S9j V. 114. ^^M
stale, iv. 213. ^^H
iv. 65i v. 567.
Btsle, ii. ^^M
[id«er'« threiid, Ad. & Car. i.
stalled to the rogue, ii. 541. ^^H
Ix..]
stalling ken, ii. 539. ^^M
.ith, T. 311.
Btamniel, v. 198. ^^^H
uthence, t. 20S.
stamp, iii. 368 ; iv. 623. ^^H
•kdderitiK, iii. 535.
St.nd.rd.tbe,i.438;iv.421; ^H
■lull, iii, 121.
^^M
»kilU. i. «5.
Btons, iv. 381. ^^M
■Iflti, ii. 53g.
Btnrtups, ii..l75. ^H
■IVit,i.441i ii.47; iii. 103;
^H
It. 263 ( y. 220.
gtates, iv. 306; v. 177. ^^H
•lip, ii. 417; T. 83.
■lop, i. 24&; T. 29.
tUtates itapic, Ii. 123. ^^H
■maikj, T. 482.
steaks, i. 336; ii. 287. ^^H
steeple, iii. 149. ^^H
nibbed, ii. 257.
Bten., i. 317. ^^H
•nobbinr, ii. 377.
Steven. V. 371. ^^M
•omner, ii. 29.
stewed prnnei, iU. 212. ^^H
•op«.in.wine, i. 278.
stock, i. 259. ^^1
•ort, iii. 153 i V. 43B.
■oond. i. 206.
stool-bBll, iv. 597. ^^H
•oimded, V. 602.
slr^n, V. 20. ^^H
■oniedganiel. iii. 44.
strangely, i. 346. ^^H
KTcreigTi, i. 110; t. 600.
■ow-gtilder'i horn, r. 569.
Spuuih needle, i. 244.
strike, ii. 543. ^^H
striker, u. 454; i>. 170. ^^H
Spenicr lmitat«l, ii. 339.
stript. 447. ^^M
•[dll'd. *. 437,
atrossers, *. 40. ^^M
■pfnr, i. 174; u. 369 ^ iv.
Btrouts. ii. 531. ^^M
4B.
■nbetli. fv. 453. ^^H
■pittle, H. 465 ; Ui. 234.
Hataibm, ii. 386. ^^1
f|iHt,*n, H. 518; iii. 181.
snckets, t. 2C2 ; ill. 143 ; ir. ^^1
■pnwUng, iU. SIS.
^H
Bpringal, 1. 459 ; Ui. 631.
eumner, 525 iv. 429. ^H
^V 640 IKDBX TO TBK iroTM. f
^H ■upcTsdchtODt, V. no.
tenn-troUw. i. 830.
iCTter, ii. 477 i iv. 8 i «. UHS.
^m niiuue, ii. tea.
tatatx. I 258 ; iu. 38.
^m tan to, ii. 39.
thin, iii. 203.
^m laniirrani. i. 330.
tbmki oad a thouund. i>.
^M ■i»bb<-n, iii. ISS.
S07-
^B (middle, m. 32.
third pile, to the, ii. 343.
^B nng- u- 36^-
ThonK-Ca«Ue. L 180.
^H Swui. the, ii. 6*5.
^H nruu ou the Thames, ii. GOO.
thrw-qnarter-Bharer, T. 563.
^H ■•TRthT reutinn, iU. 2G2.
tiuwster. >. 170.
thnun-chinned, ii. 68.
^M Uhl^e. W. 440.
thatDb-DaU, doing right on.
^M table, i. 31.
iu. 31.
^^1 tabic, ili. Ilfl; iT.43S.
Cioed. ii. 386.
^H^^^ ttble-b<Kika,1.27^l iil ISSi
Tickie-me-quicVly, T. 143.
^^^^H
tire-men. H. 241.
^^^^^H IthMes. 301 ii. 206.
tire-mroman, i. 461.
^^^^^P lablea,
tiHng-hoiue, U. 139. i. £!G.
^^^^■^ tailor. womaa'E. i 161.
Uke in enutr. t 2S».
to. i. 204i iii. £89i iv. 533.
take roe with ;on. i. 1^1 ; a
tobacco aold bi apotliecarii^.
23.
ii. 453.
t«L:(m. i. 4D1.
tJ<en by eall*nt» lil-
[take ual. .^lif. & Cor. L Ui\.]
ting on the itage. v. 544.
take pepper in tbe now:, i».
tons, h. 404.
173.
torch-beareri, U 261.
take their ease i' their inn. y.
[toBi, Ad. kCor.i. Inn,]
IBS.
talenter, t. I6.i.
touch, i. 314: m.301.
tsU. iii. B3, 581.
touehrd, if. 271.
Tamburlain, i. 229. v. i2C.
toward, i. 347: iv 469.
Twtary, ». 52*.
toward, i. 171 i ii. 177: iii.
tavem-bitch has bit. Ac,, ii.
214; if. 50.
83.
to-who. iii. 176.
Towne, in actor, iii. 105.
ta«. u 375.
tor. i. 37Si U. 6«!j iii. 274 ;
tawnv-coat. iL Si7.
iv. 217.
tralnoBnt, v. 316.
teniente, Ii. IIS.
tenti, iii. 585.
t^hed. a 19.
tantj-nine, iii SST.
trBverse., i 264.
tomien, ii. 42, 107,433; iii.
treaohpf, iv. 380.
254.
trencher, ii. 437.
^^^^^^^^I_^l_^^^^^^^^l ^^^^1
^B^^^^^^HHii^^^^^^^^l ^^^^1
imixx TO THE miTEs. 641 ^^^H
trmcbere, nonea on. x. 40.
vuiltiDg-houM. r. 518. ^H
triltibabo. L 65.
Teoen, i. 389. ^^M
triM on tho cbe.U, ii. 5*2.
Tennik, i. 66. ^^1
trinmpluh iy. -103.
Tent. iT. 4*3. ^^H
. trow, U. Z8 : IT. 145. T. 39.
Tentoy, i, 251. ^^H
Trojnoywit. t. 489.
Venus uid Aionis, Shake- ^^H
tme, IT. 224.
ipeare'i. ii. 840. ^^H
trnem«n, L 1S8; iii. 11.
i. 243. ^^B
tmg. ii. 222.
Tiage, ii. ^^M
trunkn, ii. 157.
Tierge, t. 258. ^^H
tronlu, T. S7Z.
vild, i. 94; ii. 77; iii. 1S7; ^^H
tnui. i. 3G7; iL 2«0; iii,
137; 139. ^^H
S88 ; iv. 38.
TildlT, L 356. ^^H
Tuck. &i«r, iii. 115.
*iol, ii. 11. ^^H
Tnrk worth tcnpcnoe, Ui. 489.
TirginaU, i. 278; iii. 113; ^^1
turaTork, iU. 80; C-nd ^rf.
^^M
» Cor. i. !«.]
Toider.iv, 405; T.Tl. ^^H
Tumboll-stmrt, iv. 34; t.
48.
^^1
t«e»k», iii. 527.
wuDscot-gown, IT. 473. ^^H
tweering, ». 59*.
wsistcoU, iii. 4S. ^^H
twetiM, iY. 119.
wale, i. ^^H
twirter-lighte, ii. 309; lii.
4*9. ^^H
588.
wspper-eyed, t. 52S. ^^^^H
twapeaDf room, ii. 413.
ward, iy. ^^H
warden-tree, iii. 189. ^^^H
ubcroiu, i. 151.
[wuniu-pieee. Ad. & Cor. ^^H
nmblei, ii. 482.
^^H
imeren, ii. 145.
wauBil-bowl, T. 143. ^^H
unkindlj, T. to.
wutrn. iU. I8U. ^^H
wsUbet. ^^H
imreihwt, ii. 146.
s>tennt!n, great number of, ^^^H
ODtnuoag, ii. 135-, iii. 310.
^^H
(mnliMd, u. 314; iii. £49;
wean a smock, i. *38. ^^H
IT. 585 : T. 326.
wedlocks, ii. 481 . ^^H
onTilnedeit. IT. 517.
welkin, 16. ^^H
upright mui. ii. 530.
urchin, iii. 589.
^^H
UnuLi, St., iv. 310.
•elted, iii. 87. ^^H
western nug. ii. 523. ^^M
westward bo. ii. S20. ^^H
Tideth, ii. 113.
T»l, i. 348 ; *. 466.
wet finger, with >, iii. 10. ^^H
Ttdiuil, ii. S.
whit are TDu for n coxcomb. ^^^^H
T<d«,iv. aai.
^^H
vilnrp, T. IB9.
what is «hc for a fool, U. 421 . ^^H
^^^^I^HI
BAi ravn TO mm mm. ^^^^^^^|
whil Ud T0«, 1. i47; n.
wii«i. T. at. ^^^M
m i Ui. 34 1 ii. 8.
wt«n kto DOM. ii. 14. ^^^H
•W ■houU lie bt lot ■ BUB,
rtS. ir. SM. ^^
ii. 137,
wM. ifi. 31.
wbn. i. U9i (L lUi uL
WH. wUdM* win Hum, iii.
Iftil W. UI.
en.
mhtn. ». MS.
witd«>«9lAgwind>.i«.Sia.
>bMr.t.S8|U.M|iiLmi
with diild. iii. M.
h. I6;t. aw.
whlol. i. 331 ! ii. S3J i ir.
whenw, T. sro.
It.
■hibliu. iU. 13.
-ooa.i. M: ..445.
nhiHler, ill. ill.
woodcock, iii. 46; it. 59S.
whllr, I. IS; liLUt,
Woodcock of oar ode. L 203.
«bUoB, *. T».
290.
Wbvlipg, Tbe. 1. 203.
WookcT-Uolc. iit 539.
Woolner, t. 508.
-hirt. T. m.
woot-wwd, T. £37.
vkite. It. JSS.
word. iL 190.
White -fiun' Duuwrr. t.
word. ii. 258; iu. 537; iv.
(76.
334; r.299.
-hinlo, iii. 360.
•orid, it if «, ». 429.
•Ido «■ the bow-h«id, ui. 14.
worm, T. 3S6. ^^H
[widow', notch. Ad. & Cor. i.
wnck, i. 403. ^^^H
UXT.]
wrench'd, ^^^H
Wipnore". gUJinnl. il. 380.
*itd deu, u. as.
[wild of Kent. Ad. & Cor. i.
!Sii:-,"?i,. ^1
Lrir.]
jwllow, 1.800; iiL 134; t- |
wild rofue. ii. Bar.
182. 1
will, i. M7.
yellow htadt. iu. 422. J
Wniow. willow, willow, i. 3t«.
rem. ii. 263. ^^M
[niDd-milU. tba di, jU. A
yoothi. the. u. 124. ^^^M
(or. i. luii.J
wine uul (u««r. iii. S42.
unict. i. 361. ^^H
THE ^^^H
„.,.„.;—"„....,....„., ^1
10 Su'ldutln'i'Lint. ^^^H
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