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VOL. V. 


NO {h]S!p} UKE a WOMAN'S. 




























VOL. V. 







VOL. V. 


*■» "^ 

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. 


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? 


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 


ir 7bi%M; lirt r«di^l /w ingkitt to Snnul. 
' ' ^mtttt, tmt rtallf Gract daaghln 

NO (help) ^'^^ ^ AVOMAN'S. 

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, 


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 
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 
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 



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- 

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 

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 

' 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 

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 


When we wer 

landed, sh 

gone to 


So he believt^a 

r bred, 

The daughier 

ransom'd, a 

d th 



Sand. Let r 

ne admire thee, a 

nd withal confess 

My injuries to 


Phil, They 

re all pardo 


These are ihe 

arms I bore 


nst my friend. 

Sav. But whafs all this 


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, 




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^ 

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. 



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 
" , 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- 

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. 


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. 



■ Grace. I shall long much to have this riddle 

V open'd, [^*i<fc. 

* Jane. I would you were ao kind to my poor 


And the distressed gentleman her husband, 

Poor master Low-water, who on ruin leans ; 

You keep this secret as you keep his means. 

L. Gold. Thanks, good'' sir Oliver Twilight ; — 
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 
The line goes even, air. 

Sir O. Twi. Good lad, I like thee. 
Sav. But, sir, there's no proportion, height, or 
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 bed to warm a naked maid ? 

' Ttank; goad, &c] Hake* in old ei 



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 ] 

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 

Saadfieid, gallant matter 

■a •■•ftWfc"— ■ "nr ' J t* ' ' ^ *° 

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 




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 

Sav. Wliy, now the clocks 



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 t hit 
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. 


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 

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. 

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 


: 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, 



A rooM m Low 

WAtca'a kMT. 


MU.LOW. Uili 



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 


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 


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 
!•'! 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 


" 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- 
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 

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 

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. 


I in Sir Olivek Twilight's house. 

Sir O. Twi. Good master Sandfield, for the great 
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! 


Sir O. Twi. Marry, if a wedding-dinner, as 1 told 
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>] 

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. 


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 


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 


sir, wh 

se people, sir. 
It worse knave 

to a 
han he th 

t eats his 


■ paitionl i. e. sorrow, 

farm of 


A rridiil suggeali 


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 


_ -- ^^^ -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 
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 



It hits 

i'faith, air; 


ork ffoe 

9 even. 

SirO. Twi 

0, come, come. 


Are y 

u come 



Life, what's the matter 



O. Twi 

There's a new 


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- 
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." 


S4T. Why.KI*M^a 

S4kO.T«1. VWlMBAi 

Say. Ht MTC W ftMK a 

perfectMa M OM dBB flTlfe BMB, Mid Mlk» Bl 


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 


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 ! — 
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 ■ 

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. 


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- 
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 


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 


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, 

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 

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:, 

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 



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 

[^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- 
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 


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- 

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 
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. 1637. 
1 Take no tan far lae, icfdw] I may jiut observe, ihaE thii 


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. 


L. Gold. But, under pardon, sir, 
Though you be lord o' the feast and the conceit 

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. 



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 

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 

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. 


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. 



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 


NXi a cypress" 

over my face, for 


How no 

V? who's this? 

why, sirrah 1 


Can you 

endure it, mistress'! 

L.GoLt>. E'ndu 

re what, fool ? 


Fill the 

up, coxcomb. 



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 
' 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 

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 
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 
Came vou out of that house ? 




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 

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 
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«." 


Loir. Tbii ti the bit I iriich'd for all ti 
But it come* duly. 

SiK G. L4MB. And wherein hu ibn aaiaed 

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 

' 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 


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 

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 

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- 



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 
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 g wfe rU 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. 



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. 

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, 

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. 


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 

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'* 


■i ftaw] Old ed. "h«»." 
' re«(B<] See nolC, p. S2 — "h 
inesDi Jane. ' Puih'] See noie, rol. i. p. 10. 



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 
. 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 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 

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 

Pbil. [tKWf] R 


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 
Sav. 'Ti» a sweet lady every inch of her! 

I the nrn>ng then that drirM 

pHit. Her 


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 

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, 


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 


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. 

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 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 


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. 


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 

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 

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 
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- 

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 

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 

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 



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! 

' iMd} Old ed. " Icwb." 



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. 


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 

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 

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 ; 
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 
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." 


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 


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 
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 

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. 



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, 



I tell you, si 

Gilbert, we were 


out of 

n't; I was so 

mad at that time 


self, I could h 

ve wished a 

hind quarter of 


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. 


• AHd-\ 


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. 


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 
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- 




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 

Pick. No, nor good red herring, and* you look 

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 

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 
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 
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. 


Sib G. Lamb. Do not reveal us n 


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 

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. 


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 
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 
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 
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- 
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 

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 



■ water are both 1 



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 
Earth, Water, Air, and Fire, part 'em amongst you. 

Wra. Let me play Air," I was my father's eldest 


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." 


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 ! 



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^ 
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 


of his I 


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. 

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 >ih i «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! — 
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. 


Sav. Sh'as been too oRen down to be now cilV 

She'll lie down shortly, and trail souicbodj' up. 

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 
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 


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 

That I may take my curs 

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 ; 


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 

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 

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 

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- 


As fin 



a body, wife 
n indenture c 
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 


dances, play a, 
nt with a motherly grace, 
n daughter that you mean that 


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. 
L. Twi. I come in happy time to a feast of mar- 
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 

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 




m. 'Make m 

iich on 

1, sir, till then. 


If butier'd s 

aek w 



SI. Methink 


ore I look upon h 

he mo 

re thy sister 

s face 

runs in my mind. 


Belike she 

s Bom 

ewhat like her; it 

he better, m 



til. Was Antwerp, 

say you, the firs 

you found her 



Phil. Yes, madam : why do yon ask t 

L. Twi. Whose daughter were you 1 

Grace. I know not rightly whose, to speak truth, 

Sav. The mother of her was a good twigger the 

whilst. \Atuie. 

■»d ii: 

Lt tine but aae " Hsi." 



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 ? 




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. 




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: 


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 

Sav. And that's too much by twelve weeks for ■ 
sister. \_A,ide. 

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 


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. 



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. 

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 


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. 


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 

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. 


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, ' 

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 ! 
-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. 



itcA Jram the bloods of cunning clap-fain daugk- 

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. 


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 
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 
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 ; 


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 imrmi n mrni lf fiwrn tAr r^Ab 
Offt^ Mm'* liwiagt, A( dnmk dry tktir Iraw ; 
n«r fifwr Am « «amw «M mwtkmg t m mU r ; 
S» G. Lam*. Jmi mmm to ccx, 'gmmm matmn.Jltrm, 



Kfemler. ml ttttrmi rvrwn. BirttiL wkk tkrte Mktr 
p t rwt , 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 titemaeh u at the r*mmmg ^ 
the fTrndt. fMoI aU tke ff-twb nrcpf CAM 
repntemied by Beteiil. 

EmGold. How! 

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 
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 

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 
In thai rxccplion, fuilh, to serve ua both; 
Ttii: dial of my aleep gnei by your eyes. 

[Eicunt PiiiMf Twilight and SAVouawn. 
.Srnir chiCM.^ 


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. 


man must think of othei 
How, other mattera, 


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 

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 

That 81 


my modest strength could save me from 




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 

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 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 

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, — 

O dear sir, on my knees I swear to thee — [^KtteeU. 

Mis. Low. I prithee, use ihem in thy private 
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- 
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. 

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. 
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. 


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. 


■mfuxedly Mis. Low-watek, Sib Oliver 
)HT, Sunset, ^c. Lady Goloehflbgcb 


0. Tw 

. Be no 

t so 









to slip into her 



have I 



1. is 


my dream 


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. 

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 

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 al on g 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 



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 

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 


%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 

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 
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 




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 

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 


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 
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 

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 

Here's your old suitors. 

Pep. Now we thank you, sir. 



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 

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 
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. 


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 

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 
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 ■ ei t i ng - 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 


So worse m 

r riian be i 

I'm bond to love 

tc'd* in this a dmiUe Parity, 


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; 



ampence I've road 

nk, madam, 

u well— though I 

e you; 

and you must 


could ne 

ver ease you — 


I fetch'd in my broth 

r thus t 

o please you. 



Twi. Here's un 

ought ! 

ty for 

ever strangely 


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 

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, 


VenuB being a spot in ihe sun's garment, iliews 
there should be a woman found in hose ' and 

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 

SimsET. lii„„t 


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? 



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 

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- 



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 

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 
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- 
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 

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 

Tlie red and while looka cbeerfidJir : tot, know *e 

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 


VOL. V. 


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 


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. 





. J(im.T«ita«. 

. W. Ro*UV. 
. J. Nnrroju - 
. aArwvtb 


Tkrti C«W /Xryt ntn JtW A^h rW h-^ifinmS Aqx. 

n, ji/«, 




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. 



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- 

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 

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* 

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 


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 




O, thereby hangs a tale ; my tnaatei 
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. 



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 

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* 

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- 

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 



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 

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 

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." 




Bill ne'e 


I ihould 


he may linger out till CaodletnM, | 

r. Would he were gone 
)e more respected. 


Euler Naw Yea 


D. Ai 



Here'. New Year. 
I've ne'er a gift to give 


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 

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 

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 

TOL. V. 


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 
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 


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- 
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- 
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. 




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. 


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 

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- 

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 


rHEK-tturu lUMtlR. 

house uid gets lier huabuid's 

That lies i' 


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 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 
Thy wishes with me : 

Thyfair desires in cirlue's court arc f I'd; 
The goodness of thy thought 
This blessed work hath wrought, 


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 

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. 



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. 
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 

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 ! 



-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 


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. 




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, 


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. 


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 



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. 


I for colder hours, when the bleak air 

Bites with a 

tooth : when 

has sear'd. 


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. 


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 



Enter a Soldier and a Schvlar. 

i-ral how is't? thou 
field lo-day. 
day i' the field: if 


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 



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 

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, 

oney J 



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 

Canst thou make 

Scuo. What ? I have no handicraft, man. 

Sol. Cuckolds, make cuckolds ; 'tis a pretty 
[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 


r I read ; homo, I take it, is the best, 

• valsrt] Or rather telan 



D scholar! ; 

Sol. You*re inad fellom you scholari ; I'm per- 
Were I a scholar now, I could not want. 

ScBo. Every man's mott capable of his own 
A scholar aaid you ! why, there are none now-»- 

Were you a scholar, you'd be a singular fellow. 

Sol. How, nu scholars f what's become of Vm 

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 

a Unmittr] •' One that thnnrt, dt irindt, >ilk or thread " 



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 
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 



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 
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' 

Soi.. 'Tia somewhat better than the night-farmer 

Hftrk, what sounds are these f 



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 



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. 


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. 

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 


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, 


Little less valour, a Macedonian Lorn,* 

Whom afterwards the world could scarcely bear 

For his great weight in conquest ; ihii Troy's best 

This Rome's first CieBar : these three, of Isiter 

And lo the present more familiar. 

Great Charles of France^ and the bra»e Bulloin 

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 


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. 


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 

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, 


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 


oral), wome 

n do hale me ! 

cssion on th 



rcular hours 


, months. 


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, 
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, 





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- 
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 

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- 


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 

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 


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. 



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 

■nder thing, 

gether in him, and ne'er a good 
like false lights, cozening trap-' 
Dec. The world, sweetheart, 
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. 



186 ^ 

And go no farlhcr with liitn ; all ihe rest 



1 must 

seek other course ; for 1 have learn'd 

or ray 

infernal sire not to be lazy. 



ar discourag'd, at the tenth repulse: 


Methinbs ihai world Simplidiy now hugs fast, | 


ok as ifi should be Deceit's at last. 


[/iside, and exit. 1 


So, so, I'm clad he's vanished: methouchl ■ 

I had mucli ado to keep myself from a amatch of ■ 


V, as long as he stood by nie ; for cer 

ainly H 


is infectious, and in the greater perse 

nthe ■ 


poison ; as, for example, he that lakes but ■ 

the lick of a citizen may take the scab of a cou 


the reapers begin to sing ! they're 

come 1 


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. 


We prmaite and me keep our day ; 


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. 


These reapers have the merriest lives 



uaic to all they do ; they'll sow with a 


and get children with a pipe. 

Enter a King tvith Deceit. 


. Sir, he'a a fool, the world belongs to 


A ii j ii i wdlfnMtlyi 




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 
Rcsip i(«pn>iBe,Mkd W bj fboL 

Suf. Traik, that's tbe wajr to be TtMU- Tool in- 
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 


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. 



Enter a Land-Captain, with Deceit at a toldter. 

Dec. Captain, 'tis you that have the bloody 
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. 


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 

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 

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 

That make" the landmen tremble when they're 

Besides the enemy': 

■ Cfiamberi] 1. e. «inBll pieces uf ordnance. 

■ maiti Old ed. " makea." 


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 ' 


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. 


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- 
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. 


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 


Re-enter King 

Ik a Lawyer, and Deceit as a 

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. 



ind all ; but the fair fame and honour 

d men's prayers and nisheit, 

The devil a 


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 
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- 


[They all deliver the orb up to the King. 

Flam. Regis ad exemphm totus componitur orbis, 

Which shews, 


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 



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 

" 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 





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. 



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. 

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. 


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 




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. 


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 



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- 


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 

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 

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, 


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 



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 

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- 





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. 

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 


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, 




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." 


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 


G* ktad t> kmmd nti btv, 

h U^jKmer mU grit/, n iSU, 
Jmd mitk ajload rfjmf Ufit 

IfkA glary deck'd, wkm expttUi^m, 
Grmet. Irvtk, mrf/Mw, 

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. 




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 



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' 

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 


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. 


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." 



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 


U« given into tliy hand ; make 


;, 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 


to meet gain with wide • stretcli'il 



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 


es queans, 

That ne'e 



th men 

nt, nor ever means; 

Some I c 


[ill out her 

B, e'en 

in this throng. 

If I would shell 

my child 

en, ar 

d how strong 

I were in 


n. 'U., 

poor a 

mple stray ! 

Sbe-B all 

ler lifetime find 


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. 

Learn now to scorn thy inferiors, those' most love 

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 

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 



A &n of stars she in lier other i 
With which she chase th away 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." ■ 


l«t d»^^" 


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 


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>£, 


! where o 

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 : 

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«! ! 




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 

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 



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 


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 e o wiif A 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 : 

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 : 

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. 


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 : 


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 : 

FaOicT. desist a while, till I send forth 
A few words to our friend, that man of worth.— 



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 

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. 


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. 

Strike, then ; I give thee leave to shoot it forth. 


Then here's to the destruction of that aeai; 
There's nothing seen of thee but fire shall eu. 


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 

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 


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." 


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 

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. 



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. 




The ample Order and Solemnity of Prince Charlei hii 


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 


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 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 :] 

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 : 

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. 


iir'd s. 

whose loyalty, 


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 ; 




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 ! 


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 : 

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 

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 ! 


■ 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.] 



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. 


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 

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 


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. 


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," 


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. 



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." 


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." 




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. 


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« ti a w >ce, to refrain ; dirers 
kiada «f ««ref< nuaic aOBadinf the while ; and after 
n t omtfmi M Iiim of MKiafc u arise and w itbdraw 
t h w— ah rt a . 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|iin t tk« taM* min Aey did at their 
rMwm ftwM tlwM* in (Iw nwtMi^ every knight 
(tdiag h«tw « e« hi* rant eaq ni re * . 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 
JamM Lord MiUravors, ton and heir to the Earl 

of Aruodel. 
Algernon Lurd Percy, son atid heir to tlio Earl [of J 

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 

Sir Robert Howard, fourth [fifth] ton to the Earl 

of Suffolk. 
Sir Edward Sackville, brother to the Earl of Dor- 

Sir William Howard, fifth [sixth] son to the Earl of 

Sir Edward Howard, aixth [seventh] son to the Earl 


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- 

Sir Rowland St. John, third son to the Lord St. 

Sir John Cavendish, second son to the Lord Caven- 

Sir Thomas Neville, grandchild to the Lord Aber- 
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- 


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." 





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, 




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 

■> 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. 


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. 


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." 




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 


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 


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 


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 

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!. 



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- 

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. 


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 

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. 


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 

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 

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 

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 


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 

John Holland, Dake of Exeler. 

George Plantagenet, brother to Edward the 

Edniond Planlagenci, brother to Edward the 

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 : 

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 

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. 


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 
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. 


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 

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. 


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- 

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 

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* 

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 asais tm g 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 




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 , ^ 


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 lll l W ■■■ii n ii i . Mdp 
»oL IT. p. rtl. 



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 ; 



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 

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 

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 



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 

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 ; 




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. 





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 

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 




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: 



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 


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. 


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. 



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- 



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- 

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 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 : 


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 


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 

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 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. 




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 

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." 


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 


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." 



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. •' 




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," 


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 


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. 


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 ! 



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. 



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. 


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. 



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. 


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! 


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, 

Love's hate, hate's friend, friend's foe, foe's fol- 

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 

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 ! 


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. ' 


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 


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! 



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.'" 



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. 


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. 


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." 


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. 


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. 


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. 




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." 



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. 


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. 


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 

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 


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 

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. 


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 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: 

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." 


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 



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." 


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- 


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," 


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 


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. 


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 

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. 


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 
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 



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 

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 


made winter in her icy c 


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 ? 

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. 



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 

370 THE n 


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 
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 


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. 


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. 



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 

And he that barreth others shall be barr'd. 


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. 


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 

» Do] Old ed, " Dolli." ■■ .corn] Old rd. " «korni." 


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 ? 


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." 


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 ; 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," 


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. 


rhM ii wee ! as t Mriww 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 ent r an ce 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, 


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. 


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 

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 

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. 



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. 


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 

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 

She constant is, inconstancy her foe ; 

She doth not flow and ebb, nor come and go. 


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. 


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 

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 ! 



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 

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 


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. 


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." 


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. 



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. 


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 


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 

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. 


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. 


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. 


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. 


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. 


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." 


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. 


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. 


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. 

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 
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. 


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 ; 


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 

Whose suit no tyrant nor no king can wrong. 


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." 


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. 


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-," 


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 

To pri, 


: 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. 



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, 


Why, «ay they 
And fed lamen 
Say, bow can sor 


n'd, lamented, griev'd, and 

e witb lament { 
TOW be TCith sorrow bail'd, 
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. 


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 
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. 


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 

" 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. 



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. 


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 


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 ? 


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 
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 : 


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. 


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 


Yet God i: 

More m. 

ciful to mischief-floi 
leth us, and punisheth o 

ciful ii 


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. 



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 

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.' 


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, 

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 



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 

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. 


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 

They knew the earth, but not the Lord that nam'd 


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. 


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. 


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. 


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 


would have made him blush alive, though he 
Did dye her colour with a deadly blush ; 


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. 


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 


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 


n«M Win ■■ rayiw MB hiad IB Uoodjr umb; 


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 

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. 



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. 



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. 


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 

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 


The nex 


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 yaM ig, 
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 ! 



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 

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 ntii riilB 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 

Art tliou a tnottal man, and mak'st a god ? 
A god of cUy, thon but a man of clay ? 

mids of miacbief, tn destruciioo sod! 

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. 



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. 


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 



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 ? 



■, 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. 


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.-' 


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 
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. 


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." 



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." 


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. 



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. 


Although both foes, God made ihem theD both 


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. 


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 
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. 


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." 


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. 


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. 


[ 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. 


'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." 


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 

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. 


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 
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. 


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 

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: 



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 


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. 


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 h e« 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 

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. 


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. 


■ 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 
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- 


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 



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*," 


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 


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." 



Siie Snarling Sulyrri. 



PTBdigttU Zodan. 









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 

" 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. 


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. 

* 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. 




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. 


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. 



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 " 



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"! 

a fwg p l . II — ^MlyC - 



I *i;;^_<^k 

»>«'J-.i. i nu ll h ; 


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. . jU Jt.. I II . 

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««t»»HabJo 
Ba^U iaa tfe ar'm kmc ta iliiii M, 
Vbm kad i ifi l miMg wiajt koU pariaacat; 


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. 


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. 


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. 


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- 



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 



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. 


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 ! 


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) ^ bh A 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 


t enjoy'd the fruit I thought to have. 


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. 


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. 


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. 



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. 


• 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 

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. 

Potia <( Chraw. L 

' /• Oujiat Kmlh, &c.] Prefixed to Webiter's fhttkttx bT 


The Blaeke Booke, 
Chorlton, 1604. 4to. 

Limdom Printed by T, C. for J«(frey 



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. 


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. ■■ 


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. 


;, 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 


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 


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 Lin w rtita t 

■ wimblfr-clua (far k> ifae tiMkn i o od 

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, 

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. 



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 

■ Doctvr Fmii/tu] The well-known drama bj Marlowe. 


■ 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. 



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- 



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 


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. 


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. 




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. 


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 


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. 


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. 



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. 


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' 


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 


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. 


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 



i I 

And thuf 

ordine . 
damned < 

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. 



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. 


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. 


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. 



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. 


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. 


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. 


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 ■ ' ■■ - 


maker of n' 


> for 


i that makes all the false 
, and all the periwigs that are 

Q by old courtiers, who take it for a pride i) 


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). 


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 



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 



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 


* erou-laut] 1. 1. chttlitif! wageri. 

* tuilreti] Comjtare p. IS, and note. 


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. 



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 



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- 





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. 


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, 


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." 


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. 


' "'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, 


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." 


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 


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 


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. 


a little en 


, bom (o work. 



1 you were 

once a maid : 



the name 


□an much 

ill doth lurk. 


of poor n 

ne y< 

)u need no 

I be afraid ; 


men are i 

IS, on whom the mishty 



less and s 

trength your v 

irtue injured. 


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. 



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." 


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. 


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 


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. 


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- 


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 


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 


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." 


' 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' 


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. 



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 


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 



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. 




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. 


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 

'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 


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. 



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. 



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 
d«™ cam. finciog} Qy- " ■ 
e what precedes and folloiri. 

n cone the hou fiHcng" 1 


^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." 



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, 



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. 


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 



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- 


all other 

prick-ongi See 
mazzardi i.e.* 
D/Atr] So first . 

i. p. S26. 


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. 


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. 


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" 


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 


d luliiu 

and Dekker t 




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. 


a. t± 



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." 


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. 


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." 


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. 


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 


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. 




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 : 


vas a golden 

age — who murder 'd it? 


ed that age, 

or what became of it! 


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. 


those days a 

re wasted ! and behold 

The go 

den age tha 



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 


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. 


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 


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^ 


no 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 

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] 



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. 


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. 





' ""*'^ 

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. 


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. 



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 .KL ii ' < bM 1 b«*c rab'tl, 

ABd dkr ^did hMMH W In dan ? 

IW I ii l 1i j »a«t fcl i l i niJ rfp»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 B at io» » «b«c vommctve abooMb 
Tufbf the hatiwoa io w pta ee to nrtrtly sounds; 
For imtaacv. IM foor gnriou* eyp be tix'd 
L'poa a joT tne tkoagk m ■mogrir adx'd. 


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 


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 

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- 



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. 


Welcome to Fame's bright Castle I take thy place ; 
This seat's ■■="'■■■"■'1 •" 'i- >>"- ^sw-io.. nm»«i 

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. 

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. 



The sjMiech of Honour from the top of the Caslle, 
at Ute EiUranee of my Lard Mayor's guU. 

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 


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 



^I^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^B -^^^1 


'< high loM. i. 262. 


a-pcr-K, i. 2?7. 


■ 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. 


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 > Hi. 626. 

Arthur of Bradley, iii. 118. 

Antlinga, Saint, i. 503 ; u. 


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. 


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. 


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 "^ 


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. 


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 



6M WBM TO TBS Mm. ^ 

c>K.t.44t: t*. IR. 


.^ SW <f. (f . M7. 


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 & 


«8i W. Sllli».««. 

dtt>.* MS. 

«™ii™d. U, 227. 


«*t«.. Ui. «B. 

». JIO. 



rfuldnm., iU. 55. 


Ck>Uot>er. J>a>b. «. ftti 


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 

phAm, in. a3. 

c^^ElTii^'^H .. «}. 

«>d,ri«e, iriiM MKk ^-^^H 

Ciuunioo. iu. ill ; t. 540. 


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*. 


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 


come aloft, Jack. iii. 112 ; ir. 

come off ronndly, iii. tlS. 
commodity, it 361. 
commonly, taking up a, i. 

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. 

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. 

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 


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*. 


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. 


Elinor, queen, sinking at 
Cboring-Cross and ridni; 
at QuMuhithe, iii. 355 ; ir. 

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^^^^^I^^^^H^^^^^^I ^^^^1 

INDEX TO THE 620 ^^f 

Euphuiic. T. seu. 


cxereisc, i. 211; ii. IS3. 

Digbi, ^^^M 

time. U. ^^H 

fiitter-mouK.iii. 261. ^^^M 

fadom. ii. 387. 


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. 


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 


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. 


fclfare, iy. 429. 

froaling. 69. ^^^^1 

(at. iii. 67. 


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 


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. 


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. 


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. 



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. 


hem, iii. S23. 

iv. 283. 

beoch-boj, ii. 159. 

incony. L 252. 

Hero uid Leonder, Hulowe'a. 

in dock, out DMtle, iu. 611 ; 


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. 


^H JanwQ, Ben, imiutol, ii. 117. 

kurming^j. it. 38. ■ 

ky«.ii.«S. 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. 


^B jDlinB Ccnr, motiOD of, T. 

I>i>wing, Mratacem of, i. 88. 


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. 


^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. 


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 


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, 

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, 

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. ^ 


. 111. 83, 
muMrd, Iv, 38(1 
mcBCODk, UL 8X 
mnuM. It. WO, 
mrann. I SM | tr. ART. 
rowt, 111 iM, 

'.II. I 

Mm of 

^i/. A r:«i-. L1«I<.T| 

tarn cimtmi'l. >. 1* 
merri)', I. VHl | |>. tJA, 
■ncrilnrtm*. >, 34A, 
■namuild, L 1%. 

Mttmm, III. OM, 



^H [Midsumner watch, A4. & 

My-«™-h«,-piggcd.T. 143. 1 

^H Cor. i. Lcxtl} 

mysteri«, iL 5U7. ■ 

^M Milhin, hi> imiution of Hiy- 


^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. 


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. 
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. 


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 



636 IKDBX to TMS K0TE8. ^ 

Petcr-auneene, iij 213; W. 


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. 


pickaroat, ir. IIH. 

uoBller'i. ik 4fi 1 iv. 72 i ». 

pick. iY 11. 

pigH«ter, ii. 59. 
ftct-lmtcb, .. 312. 


Ponltrr. T. SSI. 

PigwiM. the Thn*. ii 479. 

practice, L 160. 

plgsnie. a 468. 


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. 


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. 




pricklc-ringinj. V. 584. 

pLdc», wrj moDth like >. uL 

prick-song. iiL (!2U ; iv 683 : 


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,.] 


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, 

pngganb, ii. 546. 
pullen, iL 242 1 iu. 606 ; IT. US. 
porchue, i, 319; ii. 231 ; iii, 

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. 


& 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. 


. 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. 

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. 


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. 


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.] 


^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. 


■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. 


^^^^^^^^^^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 


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. 


»kilU. i. «5. 

Btons, iv. 381. ^^M 

■Iflti, ii. 53g. 

Btnrtups, ii..l75. ^H 

■IVit,i.441i ii.47; iii. 103; 


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«, 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 


■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. 


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. 


^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. 


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^. 


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. 


torch-beareri, U 261. 

take their ease i' their inn. y. 

[toBi, Ad. kCor.i. Inn,] 


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. 


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. 


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. 


» Cor. i. !«.] 

Toider.iv, 405; T.Tl. ^^H 

Tumboll-stmrt, iv. 34; t. 



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 


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. 


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. 


(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. 


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. 


vilnrp, T. IB9. 

what is «hc for a fool, U. 421 . ^^H 


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. 


mhtn. ». MS. 



with diild. iii. M. 

h. I6;t. aw. 

whlol. i. 331 ! ii. S3J i ir. 

whenw, T. sro. 


■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». 


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. 


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 


wrench'd, ^^^H 

Wipnore". gUJinnl. il. 380. 

*itd deu, u. as. 

[wild of Kent. Ad. & Cor. i. 

!Sii:-,"?i,. ^1 


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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