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^ 


1 


THE  WORKS 


OF 


THOMAS  MIDDLETON. 


VOL.  V. 

CONTAINING 


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

THE  INNER-TEMPLE  MASQUE. 

THE  WORLD  TOST  AT  TENNIS. 

PART  OF  THE  ENTERTAINMENT  TO  KINO  JAMES. 

THE  TRIUMPHS  OF  TRUTH. 

CIVITATIS  AMOR. 

THE  TRIUMPHS  OF  LOVE  AND  ANTIQUITY 

THE  SUN  IN  ARIES. 

THE  TRIUMPHS  OF  INTEGRITY. 

THE  TRIUMPHS  OF  HEALTH  AND  PROSPERITY. 

THE  WISDOM  OF  SOLOMON  PARAPHRASED. 

MICRO^YNICON. 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  BURBAGE. 

TO  WEBSTER,  ON  THE  DUCHESS  OF  MALFl. 

THE  BLACK  BOOK. 

FATHER  HUBBURD*S  TALEa 

APPENDIX.    THE  TRIUMPHS  OF  HONOUR  AND  INDUSTRY 

INDEX  TO  THE  NOTES. 


THE  WORKS 


OF 


THOMAS    MIDDLETON, 

WITH 

SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  AUTHOR, 


AND 


NOTES, 


BY 


THE  REVEREND  ALEXANDER  DYCE. 


IN  FIVE  VOLUMES. 


VOL.  V. 


LONDON: 
EDWARD  LUMLEY,  CHANCERY  LANE. 


1840. 


^1 


1 


?8580' 


NO  {^pLpj  LIKE  A  WOMAN'S. 


VOL.  V. 


B 


*■»  "^ 


A  Womofu.  A  Comedy,  By  Tho,  Middleton,  Gent,  London: 
Printed  for  Humphrey  Moteley,  at  the  Princess  Arms  in  St.  Pauls 
Churchyard,  1657.  8vo. — is  generally  found  appended  to  the 
Two  New  Playes,  &c.  of  the  same  date :  see  vol.  iii.  p.  553, 
and  vol.  iv.  p.  513. 

Among  Shirley's  Poems  ( Works,  vol.  vi.  p.  4^2)  is  A  PrO' 
logue  to  a  play  there  [at  Dublin],  aUled,  No  Wit  to  A  Woman*s 
^-rnost  probably  to  the  present  play. 


PROLOGUE. 

How  is't  possible  to  sufRce 

So  many  ears,  so  many  eyes  1 

Some  in  wit,  some  in  shows 

Take  deliglit,  and  some  in  clothes  ; 

Some  fo(  mirth  they  chiefly  come. 

Some  for  passion/ — for  both  some; 

Some  for  lascivious  meetings,  that's  their  ni 

Some  to  (letraet,  and  ignorance  their  ivarrai 

How  is't  possible  to  please 

Opinion  toss'd  in  such  wild  seas  ? 

Yet  I  doubt  not,  if  attention 

Seize  you  above,  and  apprehension 

You  below,  to  take  things  quickly, 

We  shall  both  make  you  sad  and  tickle  ye. 


]  The  rhyme  requiring  tli? 


DRAMATIS  I'ERSON.£. 

StU  OtITEa  TWILIOIIT,  a  ktlighf. 

PuiLir  TwiLioHT.  tiiiten. 

S«aDiIELEi,/rtr«d(s  Philip  TiHighl.  nd  in  liin  t 

SOCET,  am  M  gtmttntatt. 

LnT-ViEK,  a  dteafiJ  gtnlUma*. 

SltiCti.nBi  LiVRitoii 

WuTHtawMK, 


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


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


ACT  I.    SCENE  I. 
Before  Sib  Oliver  Twilight's  houie.* 
Enter  Philip  Twilioht  and  Savourwit. 
Phil.  I'm  at  my  wit's  ends,  Savourwit. 
Sav,  And  1 
Am  even  following  after  you  as  fast 
As  I  can,  sir. 

Phil.  My  wife  will  be  forc'd  from  me, 
My  pleasure! 

Sav.  Talk  n 
Be  any  liope  i' 


!  middle,  when  we're 
n  the  beginning?  my  \\ 
o  gravell'd  since  I  first  set  out  upon't. 
.  Nor  does  my  stop  stick  only  in  this  wheel, 
Though't  be  a  main  vexation;  but  I'm  grated 
In  a  dear,  absolute  friend,  young  n 
Sav.  Ay,  there's  another  rub  ti 
Phil.  Who  supposes 
Thai  I  make  love  to  his  affected  n 
When  'tis  my  father  works  against  the  peace 


irSandfield  — 


ha^i  I  hav 


ctr  Twitight'i  Aduic]  There  U  nothing  ii 
in  determiaiof;  where  ii  lakes  place. 
Diirked  it  right]; ;  but  ihe  locatiun  nan  ) 
e  whole,  to  be  ihat  which  is  leaal  objec 


'  hit  offttUd  tniitrtit]  i.  e.  the  n 


II  wham  he  aSccti, 


KO  WIT,  KO  nSLP 

Of  both  our  ipirita,  and  wooes  unknown  lo  in«: 
He  ttrikei  out  «parks  of  undeserved  anger 
Twixt  old  «tcel  friendship  and  new  tiony  hate  j 
A%  much  forgetful  of  the  merry  houri 
The  cireujti  of  our  youth  have*"  spcnl  and  worn, 
A(  if  they  had  not  been,  or  we  not  born. 

Sav.  See  where  he  come*.' 

Enter  Sandfisld. 

Sawd.  Unmerciful  in  torment  1 
Will  ihia  diaeaie  never  for>ake  mine  eye  T 

PuiL.  It  muRt  be  kill'd  firat,  if  ii  grow  to  painfi 
Work  it  out  atrongly  at  one  time,  that  ih'  anguiil 
May  never  more  come  near  thy  precious  sight. 
Ifmy  eternal  sleep  will  give  thee  rest, 
Clo«e  up  mine  eyes  with  opening  of  my  breast. 

Saxu.  1   feci  thy  wrongs  at   midnight,  and  t 
weight 
Of  thy  close  treacheries  :  thou  hast  a  friendship 
A*  dangerous  &i  a  Rtrumpcl's,  that  will  kiss 
Men  into  poverty,  distress,  and  ruin  ; 
ADd  to  make  clear  the  face  of  thy  foul  deeds, 
Tbon  work'sl  by  seconds.  ^Drawing  hit  n 

Pait.  Then  may  the  sharp  point  of  an  ini 
Itorrof 
Strike  me  to  earth,  and  tare  thy  weapon  guiltit 

Sav».   Not  in  thy  father  ! 

Phil.  How  much  u  truth  abua'd 
'  Wbea  'lia  kept  atlent  t    O  defend  me,  friendshi] 

*  itm}^Mt4.-huk.•• 
'  '  -    •  -   •        -im]  I  paM(Si  s  eflpy  of  this  plaj,  ■ 
used  bj  die  pronptet  lowmrd*  Ihc  (i 
r,  •cveral  puuf^s  lK>ng  alund,  sad  r 
'is   Sfwcimcn   of  the   fonni:" 

mtUieMlf  md  tatps  al  a 


I 


2 


Sav.  True,'  your  anger's  in  an  error   all  cU 

But  that  a  lover's  weapon  ne'er''  hears  re: 
'Tis  out  fitill,  like  a  madman's  ;  hear  but  me,  sir ; 
'Tis  my  young  master's  injury,  not  youra. 
That  you  quarrel  with  him  for ;  and  lliis  shews 
As  if  you'd  challenge  a  lame  man  the  field, 
And  cut  ofTs  head,  because  lie  has  lost  his  legs 
His  grief  makes  him  dead  ftesli,  as  it  appear'd 
By  offering  up  his  breast  to  you  ;  for,  believe  it,  » 
Had  he  not  greater  crosses  of  his  own, 
Your  hilts  could  not  cross  him 

Sand.  How  ! 

Sav.  Not  your  hilta,  sir. 
Come,  1  must  have  you  friends;  o  pox  of  weaponi 
There's  a  whore  gapes  for't ;  put  it  up  i'  the  set 

Sasd.  [^sheathing  his  wcorrf]  Thou'rl  a  mad  slavi 
Sav.  Come,  give  me  both  your  hands, 
You're  in  a  quagmire  both ;  should  I  release  yt 

Your  wits  would  both  come  home  in  a  stinking 

Your  father's  old  nose  would  smell  you  out  pre- 
sently. 

Phil.  Tell  him  the  secret,  which  no  mortal  knoi 
But  thou  and  I ;  and  then  he  will  confess 
How  mi^ch  he  wrong'd  the  patience  of  his  friend. 

"       "'        "    s  the  marigold  opens  at  the  spiel 


doui 
Of  a  hot, 
'Tis  not  unkno' 
My  mistress,  his  gooi 
About  the  age  of  six,  crossing 


friendship  'twixt  you  both. 

to  your  ear,  some  ten  years  sini 
iih  a  daughter 
Guernsey, 


'  Trw]  Qy.  "TuiU"t 


Waa  taken  by  the  Dunkirlu,'  sold  boili,  ■nd  lepa- 

As  the  lail  news  brings  liot, — the  firit  and  last 

So  much  discover "d ;  for  in  nine  years'  space 

No  certain  tidings  of  their  life  or  death, 

Or  what  place  held  'em,  earth,  the  sen,  or  heaven, 

Came  to  the  old  man's  eari,  the  knight  my  master. 

Till  about  five  months  since  a  letter  csrae. 

Sent  from  the  mother,  which  related  all 

Their  taking,  selling,  separation. 

And  never  meeting:  and  withal  requir'd 

Sin  hundred  crowns   for  ransom ;    which  my  old 

master 
No  sooner  heard  the  floimd,  but  told  the  sum, 
Gave  him'  the  gold,  and  sent  us  both  aboard  : 
We  landing  by  the  way — having  a  care 
To  lighten  us  of  otir  carriage,  because  gold 
Is  such  a  heavy  metal — eas'd  our  pockets 
In  wenches'  aprons :  womeo  were  made  to  bear. 
But  for  us  gentlemen  'tis  most  unkindly. ■ 

Sand.  Well,  sir? 

PtiiL.  A  pure  rogue  still ! 

Sav.  Amongst  the  rest,  sir, 
'Twas  my  young  master's  chance  there  to  doai  fine! 
Upon  a  sweet  young  gentlewoman,  but  one 
That  would  not  sell  her  honour  for  the  Indies, 
Till  a  priest  struck  the  bargain,  and  then  half 
A  crown  despatch 'd  it ;  ■ 
To  be  brief,  wedded  her  and  bedded  her. 
Brought  her  home  hither  to  his  father's  house. 
And,  with  a  fair  tale  of  mine  own  bringing  up 
She  passes  for  his  sister  that  was  sold. 


•  llu  Dankirlti^  Set  aou.  Vol.  iU.  p.  132. 

'  Ail-]  i.  e.  PhUip. 

■  tmkiaJlgi  i.  c.  uaoMaral  (noi  sccoidiog  to  kind — : 


^ 


Sakd,  Let  me  not  lose  myseirin  wonderiii<|nt  tliee! 
But  how  niatle  you  your  bcotc  even  for  the  niollier  ? 

Sav,  Pish,  easily  ;  we  told  him  liow  her  fortunes 
Mock'd  us  as  they  mock'd  her ;  when  we  were  o' 
the  sea 


She  nas  o'  tlie 

land ;  and, 

BS  report  wa 

given. 

When  we  wer 

landed,  sh 

gone  to 

heaven. 

So  he  believt^a 

r  bred, 

The  daughier 

ransom'd,  a 

d  th 

niolhe 

dead. 

Sand.  Let  r 

ne  admire  thee,  a 

nd  withal  confess 

My  injuries  to 

friendship 

Phil,  They 

re  all  pardo 

nd: 

These  are  ihe 

arms  I  bore 

agai 

nst  my  friend. 

Sav.  But  whafs  all  this 

toll 

e  prese 

t?  tbisd 

Leaves  you  i'  the  bog  still. 

Phil.  On,  good  Savourwit. 

Sav.  For  yet  our  policy  has  cross'd  ourselves; 
For  the  old  knave,  my  master,  little  thinking  her 
Wife  to  his  son,  but  his  own  daughter  still, 
Seeks  out  a  match  for  her 

Phil.  Here  I  feel  the  surgeon 
At  second  dressing. 

Sav.  And  has  entertain'd. 
Even  for  pure  need,  for  fear  the  glass  should  crack 
That  is  already  broken  but  well  solder'd, 
A  mere  sot  for  her  suitor,  a  rank  fox. 
One  Weatherw'ise,  that  wooes  by  the  almanac. 
Observes  the  full  and  change,  an  arrant  moon-calf; 
And  yet,  because  the  fool  demands  no  portion 
But  the  bare  dower*"  of  her  amock,  the  old  fellow, 
Worn  lo  ihe  bone  with  a  dry,  covetous'  itch, 
To  save  his  purse,  and  yet  bestow  his  child, 


IS 


so  WIT,  KO  HELP 


^ 


ConitniB  ro  wute  [her  on]  lumps  oralmsnac-ituflT 
Knetl  wiihMay-buiier.'  Now, ss  I  have  thought  on't, 
rU  spoil  him  in  the  baking. 

Sakd.  Pritliee,  as  how,  sirrah  ? 

Sav.  I'll  ^ive  him  >uch  a  crnck  in  oneo'  rhe  lidct. 
He  ihRll  qnite  run  out  of  my  mnsicr'a  favour. 

PitiL.  1  should  but  too  rnuch  love  ihee  for  that. 

Sav.  Thug,  then. 
To  help  you  both  at  once,  and  so  good  night  to  you  ; 
After  my  wit  has  ihipp'd  away  the  fool, 
A*  he  shall  part,  I'll  buzz  into  the  car 
Of  my  old  master,  that  you,  sir,  master  Sandfield, 
Dearly  affect  bis  daughter,  and  will  take  her 
With  little  or  no  portion  ;  well  Blood  out  in't; 
Meibinks  I  see  him  caper  at  that  news, 
And  in  the  full  cry.  O  1     This  hrouubt  about 
And  wittily  dissembled  on  both  parts — 
You  to  afli-ei  hi)  love,  he  to  love  yours  — 
I'll  so  bepiiile  the  father  at  the  marriage. 
That  each    shall  have  his  own  ;    and  both  bein^ 

welcom'd 
And  cbamber'd  in  one  house,- 
To  have  bis  children's  children  got  successively 
On  his  forefathers'  feather-beds, — in  the  daytirnes, 
To  please  the  old  man's  eyesight,  you  may  dally. 
And  set  a  kiss  on  the  wrong  lip — no  sin  in't. 
Brothers  and  aiaters  do't,  cousins  do  more  ; 
But,  pray,  take  heed  you  be  not  kin  to  them ; 
So  in  the  night-lime  nothing  can  deceive  you, 
Let  each  know  his  own  work  ;  and  there  I  leave  yo' 

'  May-lnillir]  "  It  during  the  moiitih  of  May  before  }    I 
■alt  your  butter  you  lauc  >  lumpf  (hneof,  and  put  it  if 
veuttl,  and  »  kI  it  into  Ihe  Sun  the  tpace  of  Cial  moi 
you  thall  linde  it  cicerding  loUFrtigne  and  mrJicinabl 
wounda.  atraintt,  achea,  and  luch  likr  gricvanCH."    G.  Mat 
ham'i  Efifliih  HoHirvife,  p.  199.  ed.  1(i3T. 


LIKE  A  WOUAH  S. 


13 


e  applaud  thee  ! 
Phu.  Blest  be  all  thy  ends 
That  mak'st  arm'd  enemies  embracing  friends  ! 
About  it  speedily.  [Exit  mth  Sahdfield. 

Sav.  I  need  no  pricking  ; 
I'm  of  that  mettle,  so  well  pac'd  and  free, 
There's  no  good  ridera  that  use  spur  to  me. 

Enter  Grace. 
O,  are  you  come  ! 

Grace.  Are  any  comforts  coming? 
Sav.  I  never  qo  without  'em. 

BpoTicat  joys  that  utterance  cannot 


Grace.  The 
perfect. 
"      ,  Hark, 


Grace.  Yes,  long  before  I  left  't 
And  all  intend  to  bring  the  widow  homeward. 

Sav.  Depart  then,  mistress,  to  avoid  suspect; 
Our  good  shall  arrive  time  enough  at  your  heart. 
(Exit  Grj 


Poor  fools,  that 


e  take 


How  soon  they'll  hold  op  their  laps  to  receive  com- 
fort! 

The  music  that  1  struck  made  her  soul  dance  — 

Peace  — 

Enter  Lady  Goi.denfleece  with  Sia  Gilbert  Lamb- 
stone,  Pepperton,  aurf  Overdone  ;  after  them. 
Sir  Oliver  Twilioht  and  Sunset,  with  Grace 

Here  comes  the  lady  widow,  the  late  wife 
To  the  deceas'd  sir  Avarice  Goldenfleece, 
Second  to  none  for  usury  and  extortion. 
As  too  well  it  appears  on  a  poor  gentleman. 
One  master  Low-water,  from  whose  estate 


14  KO  WIT,  510   BKLP 

Ht  pull'd  thai  fleece  that  makes  hii  widow  weight.  I 

Thoie  are  her  suiton  now,  air  Gilbert  Lambaton^ 

Manter  PtpiKTton,  [and]  master  Overdone.  [y4$u' 

L.  Gold.  Nay,  good  sir  Oliver  Twilight,  nuul 

We'll  (rouble  you  no  farther. 

[  No  trouble,  aweet  mndain. 


Sun, 

S[R  G.  Lamb.  We'll  lee  the  wid. 
shall  be  our  charge  that. 

L.  Gold.  It  shall  be  ao  indeed. 
Thanka,  good  air  Oliver  ;  and  to  you  both 
I  am  indebted  for  those  courtesica 
Thai  will  ask  inc  a  long  time  to  requite. 

SirO.Twi.  Ah, 'tis  but  your  pleasant  condition'  * 
to  give  it  out  so,  madam. 

L.  Gold.  Mistress  Grace  and  mistress  Jane,  t  j 
wish  you  both 
A  fair  contented  fortune  in  your  cboico, 
And  that  you  happen  right. 

.  ' }  riianks  to  you,  good  madam ; 

Grace.  There's  more  in  that  word  right  than 
you  imagine.  [Aiidt. 

L.  Gold.  I  now  reptmt,  girls,  a  rash  oath  I  look. 
When  you  were  both  infants,  to  conceal  a  secret. 

GitACE.  What  does't  concern,  good  madam  t 

I.  Gold.  No,  no  j 
Since  you  are  both  so  well,  'tis  well  enough  ; 
It  must  not  be  reveal'd ;  'ris  now  no  more 
Than  like  mistaking  of  one  hand  for  t'other: 
-  A  happy  time  to  you  both  I 

W^^'}'''^*'  '•'"'  ^  y°"*  madam! 

^^^^^^^>ttmJUIai)  L  •.  ditpMilion,  nature. 


LIKE  A  WOMAN  5 


r 

■  Grace.  I  shall  long  much  to  have  this  riddle 

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

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

kinswoman, 

And  the  distressed  gentleman  her  husband, 

Poor  master  Low-water,  who  on  ruin  leans  ; 

You  keep  this  secret  as  you  keep  his  means. 

[.Iside. 
L.  Gold.  Thanks,  good''  sir  Oliver  Twilight ;  — 
welcome, 
Sweet  master  Pepper  ton  ; — master  Overdone,  wel- 

[Exeunt  all  except  Sir  Oliver  Twilioht 
and  S*vouRwiT. 
Sir  O.  Twi.  And  goes  the  buaineaa  well  'twixt 

those  young  lovers? 
Sav.    Betwixt   your    son    and    master    Sunset's 
daughter 
The  line  goes  even,  air. 

Sir  O.  Twi.  Good  lad,  I  like  thee. 
Sav.  But,  sir,  there's  no  proportion,  height,  or 
evenness, 
Betwixt  that  equinoctial  and  your  daughter. 
Sir  O.  Twi.  'Tis  true,  and  I'm  right  glad  on't 
Sav.  Are  you  glad,  sir, 
There's  no  proportion  in't  1 

Sir  O.  Twi.  Ay,  marry  am  I,  -sir : 
I  can  abide  no  word  that  ends  in  portion ; 
I'll  give  her  nothing. 

Sav.  Say  you  should  not,  sir — 
As  I'll  ne'er  urge  your  worship  'gainst  your  nature — 
there  no  gendeman,  think    you,  of  worth  and 


1 


wiu 


credit. 


open 


1  bed  to  warm  a  naked  maid  ? 


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


s»». 


16 

A  hundred  gallant  r«l)owa,  umI  be  glad 
To  be  80  »el  a-work :  »irginiiy 
Ii  no  Bucli  cheap  Mar«  u  j|ou  make  » 
Tlint  it  had  need  with  ^rtion  be  mi  off; 
For  ihal  seU  offa  pc" —  '-  "'- —  -" — 

SmO.Twi.  Play™ 
Oy  I  could  hear  thi« 
When  there*B  no  ib' 
Strike  on,  good  lad 

S*T.  Do  not  wise  , 
Ten  ihouund  pount* 
If  »<:>,  what  jewel  cai 
More  precious  than . 
Why  thnuld  the  p>llo< 


\  be  irrec'd 


With  that  brave 

brac'd ; 
And  then,  perhaps,  ere  the  third  *pnn)i  come  on. 
Send]  home  your  diamond  crack 'd,  the  beaaiy  ({one; 
And  more  to  know  her,  'cau«e  you  «ha])  not  iloubt   ] 

bar, 
A  Dumber  of  poor  ipark*  twinkling  nhont  her. 

".  Twi.   Now  thou  play'it  Dowlaod'a  La' 


your  eyei  witb  •  merrT  jig 


crywtf' to  thy  m 
hi  ■ball  I  dry 


A»J  nakeyoa  took  lik«  lunihins  in  a  thawerT 
$ra  O.  T'l.  How,  hoW|  my  lioneat  boy,  meet   I 
S*«oiirwitr 


Saadfieid,  gallant  matter 


■a  •■•ftWfc"—  ■  "nr 'Jt*''^ *° 


ml ' Li^rtmM  or  wiYtn  Tearn  flgurtd 
fmmm,  whh  diven  other  Pau*ni,  Oil- 
rt  iwlb  be  Ifac  LoM,  VIoli,  or  Violooi. 
Marital  work,  MmpMcd  b)r 


^ 


LIKE  A  WOMAN 


17 


Sav.  Affects  youT  daugliter  strangely. 

SmO.  Tni.   Brave  master  Sandfield !  — let  me 
hug  thy  zeal 
Onto  thy  master's  house;  —  ha,  master  Sandfield! 
But  he'll  expect  a  portion. 

S&v.  Not  a  whit,  sir, 
As  you  may  use  the  matter. 

Sib  O.  Twi.  Nay,  andi"  tlie  matter  fall  into  my 


The  devil  a  penny  that  he  gets  of  me  I 
Sav.  He  lies  at  the  mercy  of  your  lo 


your  lock  and  key, 


You  may  use  him  as  you  list. 

Sia  O.  Twi.  Say'st  thou  me  so  ? 
Is  he  so  far  in  doing  ? 

Sav.  Quite  over  head  and  ears,  sir  ; 
Nay,  more,  he  means  to  nin  mad,  and  break  his 

Off  some  high  steeple,  if  he  have  her  not. 

Sir  O.  Twi.  Now  bless  the  young  gentleman's 
gristles!  I  hope  to  be 
A  grandfather  yet  by  "em. 

Sav.  That  may  you,  sir. 
To,  marry,  a  chopping  girl  with  a  plump  buttock. 
Will  hoist  a  farthingale  at  five  years  old. 
And  call  a  man  between  eleven  and  twelve 
To  take  part  of  a  piece  of  mutton  with  her. 

Sir  O.  Twi.   Ha,   precious  wag!    hook  him  in 

Sav.  Make  clear  the  nay  for  him  ftrst,  set  the 

gull  going. 
Sir  O.  Twi.  An  ass,  an  ass,  I'll  quickly  daah  his 

vooing. 
Sav.  Wliy,  now  the  clocks 


a«d]i. 


.if. 


18  KO  WIT,  wo  HELP 

Go  riglil  again :  it  must  be  a  strange  wit 
That  makes  the  nlieels  of  youth  and  age  ■< 
The  one  are  dry,  worn,  rusty,  furr'd,  and  Koi]*d, 
Love's  wheels  are  glib,  ever  kept  clean  and  oil'd. 
[jitidf,  and  ejeit. 
Sir  O.  Twi.   I  cannot  choose  but  think  of  thit 
good  fortune;  JIH 

Thai  gallant  master  Sandfield  !  ^^^| 

Enter  Weatherwise.  ^^| 

Wea.  Stay,  stay,  stay ! 
What  comfort  gives  my  almanac"  to-day  ! 

[  Takirif!  out  an  alnuniac. 
Luck,  I  beseech  thee!  [Reads}  Good  dayi,  —  evil 
days, — June, — July; — speak  a  good  word  for  me 
now,  and  I  have  her :  let  rnc  &ee.  The  fifth  day, 
'tn-iil  hawk  and  buzzard;  The  iixlh  day,  backipaTd 
and  forward, — that  was  beastly  to  me.  I  remember  j 
The  tecenth  day,  on  a  tlippery  pin ;  The  eighth  day, 
fire  and  tow ;  The  ninth  day,  the  market  it  marred, — 
that's  'long  of  the  hucksters,  I  warrant  you ;  but 
now  the  tenth  day — luck,  I  beseech  thee  now,  be- 
fore 1  look  into't !  —  The  tenth"  day,  against  the  hair, 
— a  pox  on't,  would  that  hair  had  been  left  out! 
against  the  hair?  that  hair  will  go  nigh  to  choke 
me  ;  had  it  been  against  any  thing  but  that,  'twould 
not  have  troubled  me,  because  it  lies  croas  i'  the 
way.  Well,  I'll  try  the  fortune  of  a  good  face  yet, 
though  my  almanac  leave  me  i'  the  sands.     [Aitde, 

Sir  O.  Twi.  Such  a  match  too,  I  could  not  wish 
a  better !  [^jliide. 

WiA.  Mais,  here  he  walks.  [Jside.'] — Save  you, 
tweet  sir  Oliver  — sir  Oliver  Twilight. 

i.  p.  S37,  uid  note. 


LIKE  A  WOMAK  s, 

Sir  O.  Twi.  O,  pray  come  to  me  a  quarter  of  a 
year  hence ; 
I  have  a  little  busiaess  now. 

Wea.  How,  a  tjuarler  of  a  year  hence  ?  what, 
(hall  I  come  to  you  in  September  1 

Sia  O,  Twi.  Nor  in  November  neither,  good  my 

Wea.  You're  not  a  mad  knight !  you  will  not  let 
your  daughter  hang  past  August,  will  youT  she'll 
drop  down  under  tree  then :  she's  no  winter-fruit, 
I  assure  you,  if  you  think  to  put  her  in  crust  after 
Christmas. 

SiK  0.  Twi.  Sir,  in  a  word,  depart ;  my  girl's  not 
for  you ; 
I  gave  you  a  drowsy  promise  in  a  dream, 
But  broad  awake  now,  I  call't  in  again  : 
Have  me  commended  to  your  mit, —  farewell,  sir. 
[Exit. 

Wea.  Now  the  devil  run  away  with  you,  and 
some  lousy  Hddler  with  your  daughter !  may  Clerk- 
enwell  have  the  first  cut  of  her,  and  Houndsditch 
pick  the  bones  I  I'll  never  leave  the  love  of  an 
open-hearted  widow  for  a  narrow-eyed  maid  again ; 
go  out  of  ihe  roadway,  like  an  aas,  to  leap  over 
hedge  and  ditch  ;  I'll  fall  into  the  beaten  path  again. 


list  seek  ont  n 


e  the  widow  home  t 


'ays, 


:  let  who 


I'll  be  at  my  journey's  end 


My  a 


n  tliink  to  speed  against  the  hair."  [_Exit. 
"  agalnil  Iht  hair]  L  e.  i^inat  the  grain,  contrary  to  nilure. 


20                         ao  WIT, 

»easu 

SCENE  n. 

A  rooM  m  Low 

WAtca'a  kMT. 

-wAoa. 

MU.LOW.  Uili 

««».Mh<lpM 

ligiog., 

For  «  diiirciiJ^d  gi 

1  li*r  bv  r 

Hu  viitiic  no  re«c. 

•  aOliwar 

I*  the  Horld'i  Ituc  f- 

c  drrih  b<ad-lM 

lord? 

0,  bciw  wu  curiid«i 

»  heir,  pal  by  r 

Law  wonid  not  do  m 

t.l«oa.  deed. 

ThoOKl.  with  the  f«U  o.  a 

.-'t  lad  been  he'd. 

Wbe,^  are  our  hop«  in  1 

I  wu  bonnty. 

A  yoimttcr  »i»iDr,  nitbooi 

ponioD  left. 

Nod'-'Ty  it,  ihi'  i-)iambe 

Omi     .' 

Twt:                           .        ruw 

ihrre 

no  bkwcd  nuMi. 

N(                             r  lin.Q  that  I  may  ktw  Uf 
MuHi-  1   '  .      '  <         r  to  bcffgwy  IcaOi 

My  tiiiiiil  liiitiu  toundf  is  &ere  no  way  to  intai 
it? 
!•'!  h'ti  injuiiice  UiM  a  widow  lauglii. 
And  lay*  iwr  mourning  pari  upon  a  wife  f 

'  init\  oU  td.  "  D«viU." 

'  a>i«Vf>]  A  pl*f  on  Ih*  woid— gold  ooioi  wonh  about  (en 
•lilttlnic*  DMb. 

■<  rHM  Ik"*  .  ■  .  M  i^n^artaiiU  tltain\  Caiii[i*re  Bkellon'* 

"  Till  tlnptti  othtr  tayiiM  [vcin>]  u  oiure  Indi  bim 


'Hip  «i)rl.  I*  HI 


tlLn-d. 

"  lllJIa  rliiiiK  nui  oftutry  Ilanck, 
In  wllilr  MptiidvTa  iltaf/ni." 

Ursftuu'i  JMwn  Ulttiim,  p.  3,  td.  1G3D. 


LtKS  A  WOHAH's.  21 

I'hat  she  should  have  llie  garment,  I  the  heart  7 
My  wealth  her  uncle  left  her,  and  me  her  grief. 
Yet,  stood  all  miseries  in  their  loathed'st  forms 
On  this  hand  of  me,  thick  like  a  foul  mist ; 
And  here  the  bright  enticements  of  the  world 
In  clearest  colours,  flattery  and  advancement, 
And  all  the  bastard  glories  this  frame  jetsi  in, — 
Horror  nor  splendour,  shadows  fair  nor  foul, 
Should  force  me  shame  my  husband,  wound  my  soul. 

Enter  Jahe. 
Cousin,   you're  welcome  ;   this  is  kindly  done  of 

To  visit  the  despis'd. 

Jane,  I  hope  not  so,  coz  ; 
The  want  of  means  cannot  make  you  despis'd; 
Love  not  by  wealth,  but  by  desert,  is  priz'd. 

Mis.  Low.  You're  pleas'd  to  help  it  well,  coz. 

Jane.  I'm  come  to  you, 
Beside  my  visitation,  to  request  you 
To  lay  your  wit  to  mine,  which  is  but  simple, 
And  help  me  to  untie  a  few  dark  words 
Made  up  in  knots, — they're  of  the  widow's  knitting. 
That  ties  all  sure, — for  my  wit  has  not  strength 
Nor  cunning  lo  unloose  'em. 

Mis.  Low.  Good  :  what  are  they  1 
Though  there  be  little  comfort  of  my  help. 

Jane,  She  wish'd  sir  Oliver's  daughter  and  my- 
self 
Good  fortune  in  our  choices,  and  repented  her 
Of  a  rash  oath  she  look,  when  we  were  both  infanta, 
A  secret  to  conceal;  but  since  all's  well. 
She  holds  it  best  to  keep  it  unreveal'd : 
Now,  what  this  is,  heaven  knows. 

1  jell]  i.  e.  «tnil». 


1  gncM: 
The  course  of  her  whole  life  and  ker  d«d ! 
Wu  ever  Tull  of  cuch  dishonevt  nddleB, 
To  keep  right  heir*  from  knowledge  of  ifcett  ••■ : 
And  now  I'm  put  i'  the  mind  oa*l,  I  believe 
It  was  some  priced  of  lamt  or  nioaej  ^*e*. 
By  some  depurtin);  friend  upon  tltrif  d 
Perhain  tu  yunraelf ;  and  air  Olirer'a  i 
May  wrongfully  enjoy  it,  and  ahe  htr*d- 
For  ihe  was  but  an  hireling  in  ifaoa*  days^ 
To  keep  the  injury  secret. 

Jane.  The  most  likeliest 
That  ever  you  could  think  on ! 

Mis. Low.  Is  it  not? 

Jake.  Sure,  coa,  I  think  you  hare  untied  the  knot; 
Hy  thouglits  lie   at  more  ease  :    as  in  all   otber 

things, 
In  this  I  thank  your  help ;  and  may  yon  live 
To  conquer  your  own  troubles  and  cross  ends. 
As  you  are  ready  to  supply  your  friends ! 

Mis.  Low.  1  thank  you  fur  the  kind  truth  of  your 

In  which  I  flourish  when  all  means  depart. — 
Sure  in  that  oath  of  hers  there  sleeps  some  wroos 
Done  to  my  kinswoman.  [^jltide. 

Enter  Footman. 
Jane.  Who'd  you  speak  wiihal? 
Foot.  The  gentlewoman  of  this  bouse,  forsooth. 
Jane,  Whose  footman  arc  you  ? 
Foot.  One  sir  Gilbert  Lambslone's. 
Jane.  Sir  Gilbert  Lambsione's  ?  there  my  cousin 

walks. 
Foot.  Thank  your  good  worship.      [£xtr  Jane. 
Mis.  Low,  How  now?  whence  are  you ? 

••  frUt\  Qy.  "pleca") 


Foot.  This  letter  will  make  known. 

[^Giring  letter  to  Mis.  Low-water. 
Mis.  Low.  Whence  comes  it,  sir  1 
Foot.   From  the  knight  my  master,  sir  Gilbert 

Mis.  Low.  Return'l;  I'll  receive  none  on't. 

l^Thron'ing  dotvtt  letter. 

Foot.  There  it  must  lie  then ;  I  were  as  good 
run  lo  Tyburn  a-foot,  and  hang  myself  at  mine  own 
charges,  as  carry  it  back  again.  [Exit. 

Mis.  Low.  'Life,  had  he  not  his  answer?  what 
strange  impudence 
Governs  in  man  when  lust  is  lord  of  him  ! 
Thinks  he  me  mad  ?  'cause  I've  no  monies  on  earth, 
That  I'll  go  forfeit  my  estate  in  heaven, 
And  live  eternal  beggar  ?  he  shall  pardon  me, 
That's  my  soul's  jointure — I'll  starve  ere  I  sell  that. 
O,  is  he  gone,  and  lei\  the  tetter  here  7 
Yet  I  will  read  it,  more  to  hate  the  writer.    [Reads. 

Mistress  Lom-mater, — If  you  desire  to  understand 
your  on'U  comfort,  hear  me  ttut  ere  you  refuse  me. 
I'm  in  the  tray  Tioni  to  double  the  yearly  meant  that 
first  I  offered  you ;  and  to  stir  ymi  more  to  me,  I'll 
empty  your  enemy's  bags  to  maintain  you;  for  the 
rich  niidow,  the  lady  Guldei\fteece,  to  whom  I  have  been 
a  longer  tuitor  than  you  an  adversaTy,'^  hath  given 
me  so  much  encouragement  lately,  insomuch  that  I  am 
perfectly  assured  the  next  meeting  strikes  the  bargain. 
The  happiiieis  that  follows  this  'twere  idle  to  inform 
you  of;  only  eonient  to  my  desires,  and  the  tuidon-'t 
notch  shall  tie  open  to  you.  This  much  to  your  heart ; 
1  know  you're  mise.  Farewell.  Thy  friend  lo  his  pomtr 
and  another's,  Gilbert  Lambstone, 
In  this  poor  brief  what  volumes  has  he  thrust 
Of  treacherous  perjury  and  adulterous  lusi ! 

1  nn  arftfriory]  Old  pd.  "a  longer  arfiWMry," 
'  firi'f^  i-  *■  *iior(  writing. 


24  KO  WIT,  NO  HEI-r 

So  foul  a  monitcT  docs  thi*  wrong  appcnr, 
That  1  give  pity  to  mine  enemy  here. 
What  3  most  fearful  love  reignt  in  some  liearts, 
Th«t  dare  oppose  nil  judgment  in  get  means. 
And  wed  rich  widows  only  to  keep  queans ! 
What  a  strange  path  he  lakes  to  my  ■tfcction. 
And  thinks 't  the  nearest  way  !  'twill  never  be ; 
Goes  through  mine  enemy's  ground  to  come  to  mi 
This  letter  is  most  welcome;  1  repent  now 
That  my  last  anger  threw  thee  at  my  feet. 
My  bosom  shall  receive  ihce. 

[Putcing  letter  in  her  boiom. 

Enter  Sir  Gilgeht  Lahdstone. 
SiaG.  Lamb.  'Tis  good  policy  too 
To  keep  one  thai  so  mortally  hates  the  widow ; 
She'll  have  more  care  to  keep  it  close  herself: 
And  look,  what  wind  her  revenge  goes  withal, 
The  sHr-same  gale  whisks  up  the  sails  of  love  I 
I  shall  lose'  much  good  sport  by  that,  [_Aiide.^ — 
Now,  my  sweet  mistress! 
Mis.  Low.  Sir  Gilbert!    you  change  suits'  oft, 

In  black  but  lately. 

Sir  G.  Laub.  My  mind  never  shifts  though. 

Mis,  Low.  A  foul  mind  the  whilst : 
But  sure,  sir,  this  is  but  a  dissembling  glass' 
You  sent  before  you ;  'tis  not  possible 
Your  heart  should  follow  your  hand. 

Sir  G.  Lamb.  Then  may  both  perish ! 

Mis.  Low.  Do  not  wish  that  so  soon,  sir  :  can  you 

'  Iftt]  Viei  here  perhaps  ironicsUy :  but  qj.  "  EBstc  "  I 
'  mill]   Old  ei  "  Suiwrt." 

■  glauj  A  rriend  suggest!  "gXou:"   bul  in  set  ii.  k.  1. 
Lndy  G.  wys  of  ihe  letter  in  queslion,  "  here's  a  ghii  will 


A  ihree-montlifl'  love  to  a.  ricli  willow's  bed, 
And  lay  tier  pillow  under  a  quean's  head  ? 
I  know  you  can't,  howe'er  you  may  dissemble 't ; 
You've  a  heart  brought  up  belter. 

Sir  G.  Lamb.  Faith,  you  wrong  me  in't ; 
You  shall  not  find  it  so ;  1  do  protest  to  thee, 
I  will  be  lord  of  all  my  promises, 
And  ere  't  be  long,  thou  shalt  but  turn  a  key. 
And  find  'em  in  thy  coffer ;  for  my  love 
In  matcliing  with  the  widow  is  but  policy 
To  strengthen  my  estate,  and  make  me  able 
To  set  off  all  thy  kisses  with  rewards; 
That  the  worst  weather  our  delights  behold. 
It  may  hail  pearl,  and  shower  the  widow's  gold. 

Mis.  Low.   You  talk  of  a  brave'  world,  sir. 

Sir  G.  Laub.  'Twill  seem  better 
When  golden  happiness  breaks  forth  itself 
Out  of  the  vast  part  of  the  widow's  chamber. 

Mis.  Low.  And  here  it  sets. 

Sin  G.  Lamb.  Here  shall  the  downfal  be  ; 
Her  wealth  shall  rise  from  her,  and  set  in  thee. 

Mi8.  Low,  You  men  have  th'  art  to  overcome 

Pray  give  my  thoughts  the  freedom  of  one  day. 
And  all  the  rest  take  you. 

Sir  G.  Lamb.  1  straight  obey.— 
This  bird's  my  own !  {^Atitie,  and  eiril. 

Mis.  Low.  There  is  no  happiness  but  has  het 

Herein"  the  brightness  of  her  virtue  shines  : 
The  husk  falls  off  in  time,  that  long  shut'  up 
The  fruit  in  a  dark  prison  ;  so  sweeps  by 
The  cloud  of  miseries  from  wretches'  ejes, 


■  Htrtin]  Qy.  "  Wherein "  ( 


That  yet,  though  fain,  at  length  they  Ke  to  rise 
The  secret  powers  work  nondrously  and  duly. 

Enter  Low-water. 

Low.  Why,  how  now.  Kale? 

Mia.  Low.  O,  are  you  come,  sir  ?  husband. 
Wake,  wake,  and  let  not  patience  keep  thee  poor, 
Rouse  up  thy  spirit  from  this  falling  slumber ! 
Mftke  thy  dislress  aecm  but  a  weeping  drtram. 
And  this  the  opening  morning  of  thy  comforts ; 
Wipe  ilie  salt  dew  off  from  thy  careful  eyes. 
And  drink  a  draught  of  gladness  next  thy  heart, 
T'  expel  the  infection  of  all  poisonous  sorrows  ! 

IjOW.  You  turn  me  past  my  senses  \ 

Mis.I>aw.  Will  you  but  second 
The  purpose  I  intend,  I'll  be  first  forward ; 
I  crave  no  more  of  thee  but  a  following  spirit, 
Will  you  but  grant  me  that 

Low.  Why,  what's  the  business 
That  should  transport  thee  thus  ? 

Mis.  Low.  Hope  of  much  good. 
No  fear  of  the  least  ill ;  take  that  to  comfort  thee.. 

Low.  .Yea? 

Mis.  Low.  Sleep  not  oit't,  ibia  is  no  slumbering 
business  ; 
'Tis  like  the  sweating  sickness,  I  must  keep 
Your  eyes  still  wake,  you're  gone  if  once  you  sleep. 

Low.  I  will  not  rest  then  till  thou  hast  thy  wishes. 

Mis.  Low.  Peruse  this  lovc-papcr  as  you  go. 

l^Gicing  UttcT. 

Low.  A  letter?  \_Ei.cuM. 


Aroo 


I  in  Sir  Olivek  Twilight's  house. 


Sir  O.  Twi.  Good  master  Sandfield,  for  the  great 
affection 
You  bear  toward  m^  girl,  I  am  well  pleas'd 
You  should  enjoy  her  beauty  ;  heaven  forbiO,  sir, 
That  I  should  cast  away  a  proper  gentleman, 
So  far  in  love,  with  a  sour  mood  or  so. 
No,  DO ; 

I'll  not  die  guilty  of  a  lover's  neck- cracking. 
Marry,  as  for  portion,  there  I  leave  you,  sir, 
To  the  mercy  of  your  destiny  again  ; 
I'll  have  no  hand  in  that. 

Sand.  Faith,  something,  sir, 
Be't  but  t'  express  your  love. 

Sir  O.  Twi.  I've  no  desire,  sir, 
T'  express  my  love  that  way,  and  so  rest  satisfied ; 
I  pray  lake  heed  in  urging  that  too  much 
You  draw  not  my  love  from  me. 

Sand.  Fates  foresee,  sir. 

Sia  O.  Twi.  Faith,  then  you  may  go,  seek  out  a 
high  steeple. 
Or  a  deep  water — there's  no  saving  of  you. 

Sav.  How  naturally  he  plays  upon  himself! 

[/iside. 

Sir  O.  Twi.  Marry,  if  a  wedding-dinner,  as  1  told 
you, 
And  three  years'  board,  well  lodged  in  mine  house, 
And  eating,  drinkiog,  and  a  sleeping  portion, 
May  give  you  satisfaction,  I'm  your  man,  air; 


Sakd.  I'm  conient  to  embrace  it,  sir. 
Rather  iliati  hazanl  languisLment  or  ruin. 

SirO.  Twt.  I  love  thee  for  ihy  wisdnm  ;  luchaj 

Will  cheer  s  fnilier'a  heart :  welcome,  iweet  masur>] 

Satidficlci. 
Whither  away,  boys?  Philipl' 

Phil.  To  visit  my  love,  sir, 
Old  master  Sunset's  daughter. 

Sir  O.  Twi.  That's  my  Philipl— 
Ply'l  hard,  my  good  boys  boih,  put  'era  to't  fineljffl 
One  day,  one  dinner,  and  one  house  shall  join  you. 

^"""■iTbat's  our  desire,  sir. 

Phil.  ) 

[Eimmt  SANoritLD  and  PhiliT(I 

SirO.  Twi.  Pisl!'  come  hither,  Savourwit ; 
Observe  my  son,  and  bring  me  word,  sweet  boy. 
Whether  has  a  speeding  wit  or  no  in  wooing, 

Sav.  TJial  will  1,  sir— That  your  own  eyes  might^ 
tell  ye" 
I  think  it  speedy;  your  girl  has  a  round  belly.  [£x>(.fl 

SiaO.Twi.  How  soon  the  comfortable  shine  of  joyS 
Breaks  through  a  cloud  of  grief! 
Tbe  tears  that  t  let  fall  for  my  dead  wife 
Are  dried  up  with  the  beams  of  my  girl's  fortunes  1 1 
Her  life,  her  death,  and  her  ten  years'  distress, 
Are  even  forgot  with  me ;  the  love  and  care 
That  I  ougbt'  her,  her  daughter  sh'  owes"  it  all ; 
It  can  but  be  bcstow'd,  and  there  'tis  ncU. 


•  PUii  i.e.  Hi.t:  comiureval.  ii-p.  tflO.—Olded.  "Piih." 

•  jir]  Old  cd.  "you" — but  l1ii>  line  was  meant  lo  rbytne 

■  ought]  i.  c.  owed. 

•  ilT  auni]  Olded.  "ilions:" — nrei,  i.e.  ono*,  poiKiKi. 


indeed,  sir ; 
e  very  welcome. 


Desires  some  conTerence  with  you. 

SiB  O.  Twi.  How !  a  Dutch  merchant  f 
Pray,  send  him  in  to  me.     [Exit  Servant.'] — Whai 
news  with  him,  iron?' 

Enter  Dutch  Merchant,  with  a  little  Dutch  Bny  m 
great  slops. '^ 

D.  Meb.  Sir  Oliver  Twilight? 

.Sir  O.  Twi.  That's 
I  pray,  be  cover'd,"  sii     _ 

D.  Meb.  This  is  my  buainess,  sir;  I  look  into 
my  charge 
A  few  words  to  deliver  to  yourself 
From  a  dear  friend  of  yours,  that  wonders  strangely 
At  your  unkind  neglect. 

Sir  O.  Twi.  Indeed  I  what  might 
Hebe,  lir? 

D.  Meh.  Nay,  you're  i'  the  wrong  gender  now ; 
'Tis  that  distresaSd  lady,  your  good  wife,  sir. 

Sm  O.  Twi.  What  say  you,  sir  ?  ray  wife ! 

D.  Meb.  Yes,  sir,  your  wife  : 
This  strangeness  now  of  yours  seems  more  to  hardi'it 
Th'  uncharitable  neglect  she  tax'd  you  for. 

Sib  O.  Twi,  Pray,  give  me  leave,  sir  ;  is  my  wife 
alive  ? 

D.  Meb.  Came  any  news  to  you,  sir,  to  the  con- 

Sir  O.  Twi.  Yes,  by  my  faith,  did  there. 

■  trninl  i.  e.  think  you, 

'  grtal  ilirpi]  i.  t.  wide  irousen. 

*  ic  RHvr'i/]  i.  e.  put  on  your  lint. 


no  WIT,  NO  HELP 


O.  Mer.  Pray,  how  long  since,  sir? 
SibO.Twi.  Ti»  now  some  ten  wee! 
D.  Meb.  Feith,  within  this  month,  i 
I  saw  her  (alk  and  eat ;  and  those,  in  our  calendar. 
Are  signs  of  life  and  health. 
.Sib  O.  Twi.  Mass,  so  tbey  are  in  ours ! 
D.  Mer.    And  these  were    the  last  words  her 
passion'  threw  me, — 
No  grief,  quoth  she,  siu  to  my  heart  so  close 
As  his  unkindnesB,  and  my  daughter's  loss. 
.SibO.Twi,  You  make  roe  weep  and  wonder; 
for  I  swear 
I  sent  her  ransom,  and  that  di 
D.  Meb.  Here!   that  will 
her  of  one  grief; 
I  long  to  see  her,  for  the  piteous  moan 
Her  mother  made  for  her. 

Sir  O.  Twi.  That  shall  you,  sir.— 
Within  there .' 

Re-enter  Senanl. 
Seb.  Sir? 

Sib  O.  Twi.  Call  down  my  daughter. 
Seh.  Yes,  air.  [Exit. 

SibO.Twi.  Here  is  strange  budgelling;''  1  tell 


lughter'i  here. 

come  well  to  lighten 


ThoB 


you,  sir, 
:  that  I  put  in  trust  were  near 
in  would  think  they  should  r 


' 


Vly  own  so 
D.  Meb. 

n  and  my 
And  yet  t 

ervant 
fttimes 

sir,  wh 

se  people,  sir. 
It  worse  knave 

to  a 
han  he  th 

t  eats  his 

meatT 

■  paitionl  i.  e.  sorrow, 
begetting.- 

farm  of 

•iggling. 

A  rridiil  suggeali 

A  WOMAN  S. 


Sir  O.  Twi.  Troth,  you  say  true,  sir  : 
I  sent  'em  simply,  and  that  news  tliey  brouglit, 
My  wife  had  left  the  world  ;  and,  with  that  son' 
I  sent  to  her,  this  brought  his  sister  home : 
Look  you,  sir,  this  ia  she. 

Enter  Grace. 
D.Mer.  Ifmy  eye  sin  not,  sir. 

Or  misty  error  falsify  the  glass, 

I  saw  that  face  at  Antwerp  in  an  inn, 

When  1  set  forth  first  to  fetch  home  this  boy. 
SinO.Tw,.  How 7  in  an  inn? 
Grace.  O,  I'm  betray'd,  I  fear!  {^Aiide, 

D.  Mer.  How  do  you,  young  mistress? 
Grace.  Your  eyes  wrong  your  tongue,  sir, 

And  make''  you  sin  in  both  ;  I  am  not  she. 

D,  Meb.  No?  then  I  ne'er  saw  face  twice.— Sir 
Oliver  Twilight, 

I  tell  you  my  free  thoughts,  I  fear  you're  blinded ; 

I  do  not  like  this  story  ;  I  doubt  much 

The  sister  ia  as  false  as  the  dead  mother- 
Sin  O.  Twi,  Yea,  soy  you  so,  sir?  I  see  nothing 
lets"^  me 

But  to  doubt  so  too  then, — 

So,  to  your  chamber;  we  have  done  with  you. 
Grace.  I  would  be  glad  you  had :  here's  a  strange 
storm ! —  {^Ande. 

Sift  it  out  well,  sir  ;  till  anon  I  leave  you,  sir.  [Exit. 
O.  Mea.  Business  commands  me  hence  ;  but,  as 
a  pledge 

Of  my  return,  I'll  leave  my  little  son  with  you, 

Who  yet  takes  little  pleasure  in  this  country, 

'Cause  he  can  speak  no  English,  all  Dutch  he. 

*  fori]  Qy.  "sum'T  but  perhaps  "lliii"  io  the  nent  line 
meant  SRVoumril. 
'  makt\  Oldrd.  "makes."  '  fed]  i. b. hinders. 


Sir  O.  Twi.  A  fine  boy  ;  he  is  welcome,  sir,  to  me. 
D.  Mer.  Where's  your  leg  and  your  thanka  (o 


the  gender 


n? 


_    -- ^^^    -gkgen  an  pou  thonket  you, 

hk  doftckyou,  rcr  cm  edcrttum  rrcndfg  kUe. 

SirO.  Twi.  What  says  he,  sir? 

D.  Mer.  He  thanks  you  for  your  kindness. 

SirO.  Twi.  Pretty  kna^e! 

D.  Mer.  Had  not  some  business  held  me  by  the 
way, 
This  news  had  come  to  your  ear  ten  days  ago. 

SirO.  Twi.  It  cornea  too  soon  now,  methinks; 
I'm  your  debtor. 

D.  Mer.  But  I  could  wish  it,  sir,  for  better  ware. 

Sir  O.  Twi.  We  must  not  be  our  own  choosers 
in  our  fortunes,  ^Exit  Dutch  Merchant. 

Here's  a  cold  pie  to  breakfasi !  wife  alive. 
The  daughter  doubtful,  and  the  money  spent ! 
How  am  I  juggled  withal ! 


Re-entcT  Savou 

WIT. 

Sav 

It  hits 

i'faith,  air; 

Thew 

ork  ffoe 

9  even. 

SirO.  Twi 

0,  come,  come. 

come! 

Are  y 

u  come 

.sir? 

Sav 

Life,  what's  the  matter 

now! 

Sir 

O.  Twi 

There's  a  new 

reckoning 

Sav.  Pox  on't, 
I  thought  all  had  been  paid  ;   1  can't  abide 
These  after- reckonings.  \^Aiidi:. 

SirO.  Twi.  I  pray,  come  near,  sir,  let's  be  ac- 
quainted with  you ; 
You're  bold  enough  abroad  with  ray  purse,  sir. 

Sav.  No  more  than  beseems  manners  and  good 


LIKE  A  wouan's.  33 

SmO.  Twi,  Did  not  you  bring  me  word,  some 

My  nife  was  dead  ? 

Sav.  Ym,  true,  sir,  very  true,  sir. 

Sib  O.  Twi.  Pray,  slay,  and  lake  my  horse  along 

And  with  the  ransom  that  1  sent  for  her, 
That  you  redeem'd  ray  daughter ! 

Sav,  Right  as  can  be,  sir  ; 
I  ne'er  found  your  worship  in  a  false  tale  yet. 

SihO.  Twi.  I  thank  you   for  your  good  word, 
sir;  but  I-m  like 
To  find  your  worship  now  in  two  at  once. 

Sav.  I  should  be  sorry  to  hear  that. 

Sir  O.  Twi.  I  believe  you,  sir : 
Within  this  month  my  nife  was  sure  alive. 
There's  six  weeks  bated  of  your  ten  weeks'  lie; 
As  has  been  credibly  reported  to  me 
By  a  Dutch  merchant,  father  to  that  boy. 
But  now  come  over,  and  the  words  scarce  cold. 

Sav.  O  strange  I —  [^Aside. 

'Tis  a  most  rank  untruth  ;  where  is  he,  sir  ? 

SirO.  Twi.  He  wiU  not  be  long  absent. 

Sav.  All's  confounded  I —  \_/itide. 

If  he  were  here,  I'd'  tell  him  to  his  face,  sir. 
He  wears  a  double  tongue,  that's  Dutch  and  Eng- 
lish. 
Will  the  boy  say't  ? 

SiB  O.  Twi.  'Los,  he  can  speak  no  English. 

Sav.  All  the  better ;  I'll  gabble  something  to 
him.  [Asidt.'\ — HoysU  kalotite,  kalooikin  ee  t'ou,  dar 
*une,  alia  gaskin  ? 

D.  Boy.  Ick  net  neat  matt  hey  xackl ;  Ick  unver- 
slon  nee  neat. 

'  /'d]  Old  ed.  ■■  ni." 


{^mk^ 


S4T.  Why.KI*M^a 

S4kO.T«1.  VWlMBAi 

Say.  Ht  MTC  W  ftMK  a  

perfectMa  M  OM  dBB  flTlfe  BMB,  Mid  Mlk»  Bl 

KUkdHMO. 

SimO.Tvt.  V\tt,im»Amhajmjmf 
Sat.  1  kww  tWt«  «M  w^w^  Ht : 
Yout  <*tf«  ftkrel  «a  ]■■  Wlirw  aiD  tain,  wrl 
Su  O.  T«v  Na;,  «m«w  w;  b»  taU  ^  ha  i 
tlu*  w«wK, 
Which  yott  hniaflM  haaw,  M  Aacwfp  n  m  im 
■Y<\i[*]  IM,  l-ai  pUaly  «m«'4  afdl  Iwda. 
'TJB  uot  nv  imtfjum  mmAn^ 

Stv.  AQ'ihrclMawl— 
How!  net  ywu dAN^Mr. ar I  I 
(jHiifiiniitiN  inilnmmn,  aJk  omt 
huff  l^fi*  U  iiMt«r  iAa»s  kMH  Ut 
I).  Uot.  /rt  n.  laaU  «  ^  k^ 
/  rfinJrf  utt  trim  ■»»—>. 
Sav.  O,  (m  >nMa 
'twoiilil  jtrov*  i'  ih'  end :— the  boj  m;*  ibey  tkerer 
i-uiiic  iioiT  Ai)i«er|i,  »  i|aiu  cnutvry  way,  raund 
ttiiout  hy  I'arma. 

Hu  O.  Twi.  Wliu'i  Ihe  Mne  m^  smm 
H*t.  TliBi  ii,  he  saw  no  >wcli  wench  ii 
'lid  wvtl  I  came  in  luch  happv  time,  to  )i«t  it  out  tif 
ihu  hay  beton  hi*  Tathcr  TcturtXHl  agun  :  pnjr,  b« 
waty,  «lr,  the  world'*  aubOo ;  come  ajtd  pratei 
rlinritable  liu*inc*»  in  poUcy,  and  wotk  out  a  p 
■if  iiiitney  on  you. 

Kir  0,  Twt.  Mn**,  art  advised  of  that  T 
Kav,  Th>  aK«  i*  cunning,  kit  ;  beiide.  a  Dutch- 
niaii  will  live  upon  any  ground,  nrd  work  butter 
"ut  tit  a  thi»tle. 
Km  0,  Twi.  Troth,  tbou  say'tt  true  in  tbat; 
they're  the  best  thriven 


LIKE  A  WOMAN  S.  3a 

In  turnips,  harti chalks,  and  cabbiahes;' 
Our  English  are  not  like  them. 

Sav.  Olie,  no,  sir! 

Sir  O.  Twi.  Ask  him  Trom  whence   the}r  came 
when  they  came  hither. 

Sav.  That  I  nill,  sir. — Cullaaron  lagooso,  tageen, 
lagan,  rtiffi,  punkatee  ? 

D.  Boi.  Nimd  ameigh  de  cack, 

Sav.  What,  what?  1  cannot  btame  Iiim  then. 

Sia  O.  Twi,  What  saya  he  to  thee  t 

Sav.  The  poor  boy  bluahea  for  him  :  he  tells  me 
his  father  came  from  making  merry  with  certain  of 
his  countrymen,  and  he's  a  little  steeped  in  English 
beer ;  there's  no  heed  to  be  taken  of  his  tongue  now. 

SiB  O.  Twi.  Hoyday !    how  com'st  thou  by  all 
this  ?  I  heard  him 
Speak  but  three  words  to  thee. 

Sav.  O  sir,  the  Dutch  is  a  very  wide  language ; 
you  shall  have  ten  English  words  even  for  one;  as, 
for  example,  gullfler-gooie — there's  a  word  for  you, 

Sir  O.  Twi,  Why,  what's  that  same  guilder-goose? 

Sav.  How  do  you  and  all  your  generation! 

Sir  0.  Twi.  Why,  'tis  impossible!  how  prove  you 
that,  air? 

Sav.  'Tia  thus  distinguished,  sir ;  gttU,  how  do 
you  ;  der,  and ;  goose,  your  generation. 

SiaO. Twi.  'Tia  a  most  saucy  language;   how 
cam'st  thou  by't? 

Sav,  !  was  brought  up  to  London  in  an  eel-ship. 
There  was  ihe  place  I  caught  it  first  by  the  tail, — 
I  shall  be  tript  anon  ;  pox,  would  1  were  gone ! — 
{Aadt. 
I'll  go  seek  out  your  son,  sir ;  you  shall  hear 
What  thunder  he'll  bring  with  him. 

■  kartichalki  and  cabhliei]  i.  e.  artichokes  ind  cabbagei. 


SiaO.    r«i.  Do,  do,  RsToarwit ; 
111  harejtm  all  (»n  ti>  (an. 

Sa*.  CwU  m*.  trfaai  cIm,  htT — 
Aitd*  yoa  lake  me  lo  near  tlie  dpi  afain, 
III  gire  jon  leave  to  lauat'iDc;   I'tcteap'd  (kirljr:  ] 
We're  OBdofie  in  h;  t        '  *  " 


SibO.Twi.  Never  ■ 

taleaf 
I  IcDow  nut  wliicb  I  Thich  to  trvii ; 


The  bo;  here  »  tbi  lell  trntli, 

Because  the  world'a  carrupi       ia  not  jct 
At  fViIl  year*  in  him  ;  aure  hr  cannot  know 
What  deceit  mean*,  'ti»  Knelish  yet  to  hiin : 
And  n)icn  I  think  again,  why  ihonld  the  father 
Diaicmblc  fur  no  profit  ?  ho  gets  none, 
Whate'er  he  buficH  for,  and  I  think  he  1ia|>et  not. 
The  man's  in  a  good  case,  hein^  old  and  wf^ary. 
He  dnrr*  not  Iran  hi*  arm  tin  hit  lon'ii  ihouldcr. 
For  fear  he  lie  i'  the  dirt,  but  miiil  ho  rnilirr 
BehoUling<  to  n  «tran|;er  for  hii  prop.  [Mide. 

Itr-cntrr  DxUeh  ^fcTchnn^. 

D.  Miia.  I  make  bold  oner  again,  «ir,  for  a  boy  J 
hfrc.  I 

SmO.  Twi.  O  air,  you're  welcome!  pray,  re-' 
solve"  mc  one  thing,  i " 

•  /*«J1  i.e.if. 

'  »giiijij  Jtmicun  {Sm,  ta  Bt.  ,  .   .  „.,  _.  _, 

"  Sj*<ii.  to  ilHkc  with  tbv  open  hand,  particularly  on  lh»   I 
breech,"  In  which  ntnt  the  word  ttetaa  lo  h*  uhiI  aboro. 

■  IlrliMiiig']  I.e.  BeboIdcD  — a  furin  ofiha  oard  ti 
in  old  wrlirra. 


LIKE  A  woman's. 


37 


Did  you  within  this  month,  with  your  own  eyes, 
See  my  wife  living? 

D.  Mer.  I  ne'er  borrow'd  any: 
Why  should  you  move  that  question,  sir  ?  disaem- 

Is  no  part  of  my  living. 

SinO.  Twi.  I  have  reason 
To  urge  it  so  far,  sir — pray,  be  not  angry  though — 
Because  my  man,  was  here  since  your  departure, 
Withstands  all  stiiBy;  and  to  make  ii  clearer, 
Question'd  your  boy  in  Dutch,  who,  as  he  told  me, 
Beiurn'd  this  answer  first  to  him, — that  you 
Had  imperfection  at  one  time  o'  the  moon. 
Which  made  you  talk  so  strangely- 

D.  Mer.  How!  how's  this? — Zekke  yongon,  kk 
lien  ick  quelt  medien  dullek  lieghl,  ee  untoil  van  the 

D.  Boy.  fVee  ek  }ieigh  lieght  in  ae  bohkas,  dee't  site. 
D.  Mer.  Why,  la,  you,  sit,  here's  no  such  thing ! 

He  lies  in's  throat  that  says  it. 
S(«  O.  Twi.  Tlien  the  rogue  lies  in's  throat,  for 
he  told  me  so  ; 
And  that  the  boy  should  answer  at  next  question. 
That  you  ne'er  saw  this  wench,  nor  came  near  Ant- 
werp. 
D.Meb.  Ten  thousand  devils! — Zekke  hee  ewe 
ek  kneeght,  yongon,  dal  wee  neeky  by  Antwarpon  ne 
lion  cammen  no  seene  de  doaghler  dor. 

D.  Bor.  lek  hub  ham  hean  lulka  dongon  he  saut, 
hei  es  an  skallom  an  ruhbout. 

D.  Mer.  He  says  he  told  hlra  no  such  matter; 
e  and  a  rascal. 


Sir  O.  Twi.  Why,  hov 
me  one  thing, 
What's  gullder-gootc  in  Dutch? 


1 1  abus'd !     Pray,  tell 


38  XO  WIT|  VO  BBLP 

D.  Mer.  How!  gulUer^goote f  there's  no 
Such  thing  in  Dutch ;  it  may  be  an  ats  in  English* 

Sir  O.  Twi.  Hoyday !  then  am  I  that  ass  in  plain 
English ; 
Vm  grossly  cozen'd,  most  inconsiderately  I 
Pray,  let  my  house  receive  yon  for  one  night. 
That  I  may  quit^  these  rasods,  I  beseech  you»  sir. 

D.  Mer.  If  that  may  stead  you,  sir,  I'll  not  re* 
fuse  you. 

Sir  O.  Twi.  A  thousand  thanks,  and  welcome^*- 
On  whom  can  fortune  more  spit  out  her  foam, 
Work'd  on  abroad,  and  play'd  upon  at  home  I 

ACT  11.    SCENE  I. 

A  large  room  in  Weatuerwise's  house. 

Enter  Weatherwise  while  Servants  are  setting  imi 
a  table,  and  Pickadill  looking  on. 

Wea.  So,  set  the  table  ready ;  the  widow's  i'  the 
next  room,  looking  upon  my  clock  with  the  days 
and  the  months  and  the  change  of  the  moon;  I'll 
i'etch  her  in  presently.  {_Exii. 

Pick.  Sbe*s  not  so  mad  to  be  fetched  in  with  the 
moon,  I  warrant  you :  a  man  must  go  roundlier  to 
work  with  a  widow,  than  to  woo  her  with  the  hand 
of  a  dial,  or  stir  up  her  blood  with  the  striking  part 
of  a  clock ;  I  should  ne'er  stand  to  shew  her  such 
things  in  chamber.  [Exeunt  Servants. 

Re-enter  Weatherwise  handing  in  Lady  Goldem- 
FLEECE,  Sir  Gilbert  Lambstone,  Pefperton, 
and  Overdone. 

Wka.   Welcome,  sweet  widow,  to  a  bachelor's 

*  quiti  i.  e.  requite. 


LIKK  A  UOltAN  S.  39 

house  lierc!  a  single  man  I,  but  for  two  or  three 
maiils  that  I  keep. 

L.  Gold.  Why,  are  joii  double  with  them, 
tben? 

Wba.  An  exceeding  good  mourning-wit!  women 
are  wiser  than  ever  tbey  were,  since  they  wore 
doublets.  You  must  think,  sweet  widow,  ifa  man 
keep  maids,  they're  under  his  subjection. 

L.  Gold.  That's  most  true,  sir. 

Wea.  They  have  no  reason  to  have  a  lock  hut 
the  master  must  have  a  key  to't. 

L.  Gold.  To  him,  sir  Gilbert!  he  fights  with  me 

r  Gilbert  strike,  my  weapon 
falls,' 

I  fear  no  thrust  but  his :  here  are  more  shooters. 
But  they  have  shot  two  arrows  without  beads, 
They  cannot  stick  i'  the  butt  yet :  hold  out,  knight. 
And  I'll  cleave  the  black  pin  in  the  midst  o'  the 
wliite.  {^Aside,  and  exit. 

L.  Gold.  Nay,  and  he  led  me  into  a  closet,  sir, 
where  he  shewed  me  diet-drinks  for  several  months; 
as  3curvy>grasB  for  April,  clariHed  whey  for  June, 
and  the  like. 

SiiL  G.  Lamb.  O,  madam,  he  is  a  most  necessary 
property,'  an'i  be  but  to  save  our  credit ;  ten  pound 
in  a  banquet. 

L.  Gold.  Go,  you're  a  wag,  sir  Gilbert. 

Sin  G.  Laub.  How  many  there  be  in  the  world 
of  his  fortunes,  that  prick  their  own  calves  with 
briars,  to  make  an  easy  passage  for  others ;  or, 
like  a  toiling  usurer,  sets  his  son  a-horseback  in 


■■  and]  i.  e.  if. 

'  Ptttaary  praptrtg]    ThU  expreisioQ   c 
.  59B 1  see  nute,  p.  6i0  of  that  vol.,  ud  no 


cloth'of-gold  breeches,  ivhile  he  hirnsclf  goes  to  the 

devil  a-foot  in  a  pair  of  old  strossera  !' 

But  shall  I  give  a  more  familiai  sign? 

His  are  the  sweetmeats,  but  the  kisses  mine. 

[A'iwM  ber. 

Over.  Excellent! — Apoxa'yourfortune!  \jisidt. 

Pep.  Saucy  courting  has  brought  all  modest 
wooiog  clean  out  of  fashion:  you  shall  have  tew 
maids  now-a-days  got  without  rough  handling,  all 
the  town's  so  used  to'tj  and  most  commonly,  too, 
they're  joined  before  they're  married,  because  they'll 
be  sure  to  be  fast  enough. 

Over.    Sir,    since  he  strives  t'  oppose  himself 
against  us, 
Let's  so  combine  our  friendships  in  our  straits. 
By  all  means  graceful,  to  assist  each  other ; 
For,  1  protest,  it  shall  as  much  glad  me 
To  see  your  happiness,  and  his  disgrace. 
As  if  the  wealth  were  mine,  the  love,  the  place. 

Pep,    And  with   the   like  faith  I   reward  your 
friendship ; 
I'll  break  the  bawdy  ranks  of  his  discourse. 
And  scatter  his  libidinous  whispers  straight. — 
Madam  - — — 

L-  Gold.  How  cheer  you,  gentlemen  ? 

Sir  G.  Lamb.  Pox  on  'em, 
They  wak'd  me  out  of  a  fine  sleep  1  three  minutes 
Had  fastcn'd  all  the  treasure  in  mine  arms.   [Aside. 

Pep.  You  took  no  note  of  this  conceit,  it  seems, 
madam  7 

L.  Gold.  Twelve  trenchers,""  upon  every  one  a 
month ! 
January,  February,  March,  April 


.,  &c.- 


c.  tight  ilrawen : 


Pep.  Ay,  and  tbeir  posies  under  'era. 

L.  Gold.  Pray,  what  says  May  ?  she's  tbe  spring 

Pep.  \ reads] 

Norn  gallant  May,"  in  her  array, 
Dolh  make  the  Jielil  pleasanl  and  gay. 
OvEn.  [reads] 

This  month  of  June  m«  clarified  whey 
Boil'd  TvHh  cold  herbs,  and  drink  aln'ay. 
L.  Gold.  Drink't  all  away,  he  should  say. 
Pep.    'Twere   much  better    indeed,  and  whole- 
somcr  for  his  liver. 

Sir  G.  Lamb.    September's   a  good    one   here:, 
madam. 

L.  GoiD.  O,  have  you  chose  your  month  ?  lei's 

hear'i,  sir  Gilbert. 
SiK  G.  Lamb,  {reads] 

Now  may'st  thou  physics  safely  take. 
And  bleed,  and  bathe  for  Iky  health's  sake; 
Eat  figs,  and  grapes,  and  spicery, 
For  to  refresh  thy  members  dry. 
L,  Gold.  Thus  it  is  still,  when  a  man's  simple 
meaning  lights  among  wantons :  how  many  honest 
words   have    sufTered    corruption    since  Chaucer's 
days !  a  virgin  would  speak  those  words  then  that 
a  very  midwife  would  blush  to  hear  now,  if  she 
have  but  so  much  blood  left  to  make  up  an  oimce 
of  grace.     And  who  is  this  'long  on,  but  such  wags 
as  you,  that  use  your  words  like  your  wenches? 
you  cannot  let  'em  pass  honestly  by  you,  but  you 
must  still  have  a  flirt  at  'ent. 

Pep.  You  have  paid  some  of  us  home,  madam. 


Now,  gallant,  &c.]   Is  retul.  in  old  ed.,  by  lady  Golden 


-12 


1 


Re-enter  Weatiierwise. 
Wea.  If  conceit"  will  strike  tliia  stroke,  li 
the  widow's  plum-tree !  I'll  put  "cm  down  all  for 
a  banquet.  \_Aride.']  —  Widow  and  gentlemen,  my 
friends  and  servants,  I  make  you  wait  long  here  for 
a  bachelor's  pittance. 

L.  Gold.  O,  sir,  you're  pleased  to  be  modest. 
Wea.  No,  by  my  troth,  widow,  you  shall  find  it 
otherwise. 

[^Miuic.  The  banquel^  h  brought  in,  *ia  of 
Wbatuebwise's  tenantt  carryins  the  Twelve 
Sign*,  Ariet,  Taimii,  Gemini,  Cancer,  Leo, 
I  irgo.  Libra,  Scorpio,  Sagillariun,  Cnpricom, 
AqunriuM,  and  Piicci,  made  of  bampuiting- 
eluff. 
L.  Gold.  What,  the  Twelve  Signs  ! 
Wea.  These  arc  the  sii;ns  of  my  love,  widow. 

"  rmeril]  i.  «.  fanciful  IhoURht,  itiircnioui  device — alluding 
10  the  Signi  sliich  are  prcunily  brouf^hi  in. 

°  /.art  al,  &c.]  Compare  lol.  iii.  p.  350. 

'  baHgutl}  Equivalenl  (ai  1  have  already  obaerveit,  aec  note, 
voL  ill.  p.  352.)  to  what  He  now  cnll  t.  deiierL  C,  Iklarhham, 
in  hi*  Engliih  ilmiaetft,  baa  the  fallowing  puaage.  "  I  will 
noir  proceed  to  the  ordering  or  letting  forih  of  a  Banquet, 
vberein  you  (hall  obierve,  that  Marchpaaea  haie  the  Ural 
place,  Ibe  middle  place  and  latt  place ;  your  preierved  fruili 
■hall  be  diah'd  up  Grit,  your  paitea  next,  your  wet  Suckcti 
after  ihem,  then  your  dryed  SiictieU,  then  your  Mamialadea, 
and  Goodiniakea,  then  yourComfelaofall  kindta;  Next  your 
PsBrei,  AppleH,  Warden!  back'd,  raw  or  roated,  and  your 
Orenees  and  Lemoni  iliced;  and  laatly,  your  WaftT-cakei. 
Tliut  you  shall  order  Ibeni  in  the  cloiel;  but  when  lliey  gue 
to  Ibe  Table,  you  iball  firal  aend  forth  a  diih  made  fur  the* 
unly,  Hi  Deail,  Bird,  Fiih.  Potvle,  according  to  the  invention : 
tlien  your  Marchpane,  then  preserved  fruile,  then  a  Paile, 
llien  a  vrel  Sucket,  then  a  dry  Sucket.  Marmalade.  Ccmfeti, 
Applea,  Pcarea,  Wardeni,  Orengo  and  Lemoni,  iliced  ;  and 
then  Wiferi,  and  anotber  diih  of  preKTved  &wtei,  and  lo 


LIKE  A  WOMAN  1. 

L.  Goto.  Worse  meat  would  have  serv'd  us,  i 
by  my  faith, 
I'm  sorry  you  should  be  at  such  charges,  a: 
To  feast  us  a  whole  month  together  here. 
Wea.  Widow,  thou'rt  welcome  a  whole 

and  ever ! 
L.  Gold-  And  what  be  (hose,  sir,  that  brought  in 

the  banquet? 
Wea.  Tiiose  are  my  tenants  ;  they  stand  for  fast- 

inft-days. 
Sia  G.  Lamb.  Or  the  six  weeks  in  LenL 
Wea.  You're  i"  the  right,  sir  Gilbert.— 
Sweet  widow,  take  your  place  at  Aries  here, 
That's  the  head  sign ;  a  widow  is  the  head 
Till  she  be  married.  [Lady  Gold,  till, 

L.GoLD.  What  is  she  then? 
Wea.  The  middle. 
L.  Gold.  'Tis  happy  she's  no  worse, 
Wea.  Taurus — sir  Gilbert  Lambatone,  that's  for 
you; 
They  say  you're  a  good  town-hull. 

Sir  G.  Lame.  0,  spare  your  friends,  sir!      [Sits. 
Wea.  And  Gemini  for  master  Pepperton, 
He  had  two  boys  at  once  by  his  last  wife. 

Pep.  I  hear  the  widow  Gnd  no  fault  with  that, 
sir.  iSUt. 

Wea.  Cancer,  the  crab,  for  master  Overdone  ; 
For  when  a  thing's  past  fifty,  it  grows  crooked. 

L.  Gold.  Now  for  yourself,  sir. 

Wea.  Take  tio  care  for  me,  widow ;  i  I  can  be 

cantcquenily  all  ihe  rsit  before,  no  two  iliihea  of  one  kincle 
jioiug' or  standing  logelher,  and  this  nili  nnt  Dno[y  appoare 
delicate  to  the  eye,  but  invile  the  appetite  with  tbu  much 
variety  tberenf."     P.  iSG.td.  1637. 
1  Take  no  tan  far  lae,  icfdw]  I  may  jiut  observe,  ihaE  thii 


44  KO  WIT,  VO  HELP 

any  where  :  here's  Leo,  heart  and  back  ;  Virgo,  guts 
and  belly ;  I  can  po  lower  yet,  and  yet  fare  better, 
since  Sagittarius  fits  me  the  thighs;  1  care  not  if 
I  be  about  the  thighs,  I  Biiall  find  meat  enough. 

[Siu. 

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

both. 
Methinks  it  had  been  proper  for  the  banquet 
T'  have  had  the  signa  all  lill'd,  and  no  one  idle, 

Wea.  I  know  it  had;  but  who's  fault's  that, 
widow  ?  you  should  have  got  you  more  suitors  to 
have  stopt  the  gaps. 

L.  Gold.  Nay,  sure,  they  should  get  us,  and  not 
we  them : 
There  be  your  tenants,  sir ;  we  are  not  proud, 
You  may  bid  them  sit  down. 

Wea.  By  the  mass,  it's  true  too !— Then  sit  down, 
tenants,  once  with  your  hats  on  ;  but  spare  the  meat, 
I  charge  you,  as  you  hope  for  new  leases :  I  must 
make  my  signs  draw  out  a  month  yet,  with  a  bit 
every  morning  to  breakfast,  and  at  full  moon  with  a 
whole  one ;  that's  restorative  :  sit  round,  sit  round, 
and  do  not  speak,  sweet  tenants  ;  you  may  be  bold 
enough,  so  you  eat  but  little.  [^Tenants  «(.]  —  How 
like  you  this  now,  widow  ? 

L.  Gold.  It  shews  well,  sir. 
And  like  the  good  old  hospitable  fashion. 

Pick.  Howl  like  a  good  old  hospital?  my  mis- 
iress  makes  an  arrant  gull  on  him.  [Aside. 

L.  Gold.  But  yet,  methinks,  there  wants  clothes 
for  ihe  feet. 


speech  of  Wcatherwiie,  and  hit  next  speech  bulone,  "  By  the 
mags,"  &c.,  teem  (o  have  been  intended  for  blank  vene :  and 
prolmbly  arc  BomevibsC  corrupted. 


use  A  WOUAN  S. 


45 


I 


Wea.    That  part's    uncovered   yet : 
matter  for  the  feet. 

L.  Gold.  Yes,'  if  the  feet  catch  cold,  the  head 
will  feel  it. 

Wea,  Why,  then,  you  may  draw  up  your  legs, 
and  lie  rounder  together. 

Sir  G.  Lamb.  Has  answered  you  nell,  madatn ! 

Wea.  And'  you  draw  up  your  legs  too,  widow, 
my  tenant  will  feel  you  there,  for  he's  one  of  the 
calves. 

L,  Gold.  Better  and  better,  sir ;  your  wit  fat- 
tens BB  he  feeds. 

Pics.  Sh'as  took  the  calf  from  his  tenant,  and 
put  it  upon  his  ground  now.  [^.Iside. 

Enter  Servant. 

Wea.   How  now,  my  lady's  man?    what's  the 
news,  sir  ? 

Ser.  Madam,  there's  a  young  gentleman  below 
Has  earnest  business  to  your  ladyship. 

Wea.  Another  suitor,  I  hold  my  life,  widow. 

L.  Gold.  What  is  he,  sir  I 

See.  He  seems  a  gentleman, 
Tliat*s  the  least  of  him,  and  yet  more  I  know  not. 

L.  Go^D.  Under  the  leave  o'  the  master  of  the 
bouse  here, 
I  would  he  were  admitted. 

Wea.  With  all  my  heart,  widow;  I  fear  him  not, 
Come  cut  and  long  tail."  [Exit  Servant. 

SiK  G,  Lamb.  I  have  the  least  fear 
.\nd  the  most  firmnesE,  nothing  can  shake  me. 


•  PmA]  See  note,  vol.  i.  p.  29. 

•  l>i]  Qy."Vet"t 

•  Ctntt  cut  and  hig  tail]  L  e,  co 


■  md]  i.  e.  it 
:  who  will  —  dogi  of  M 


Wea.  If  he  be  a  gentleman,  he's  welcome  :  there'* 
a  sign  ilocs  nothing,  and  that's  lie  for  a  genileman. 
The  feel  will  be  kept 

widow;  for  if  he  be  a  right  gentleman,  he  has  hit 
stockings  warmed,  and  he  wears  socks  beside, 
partly  for  warmth,  partly  for  cleanliness;  and  if 
he  observe  Fridays  too,  he  comes  excellent  well, 
Pisces  will  be  a  fine  fiah-dinner  for  him. 

L.  Gold.  Why,  then,  you  mean,  sir,  he  shall  sit 

Wea.  Ay;  and  he  were  a  lord,  he  shall  r 
above  my  tenants ;  I'll  not  have  two  lords  to 
so  I  may  go  look  my  rent  in  another  man's  breeches  ; 
I  was  not  brought  up  to  be  so  unmannerly. 

Enter  Mistress  Low-water,  dUguiied  at  a  gallant 
gentleman,  and  Low-water  as  a  scrving-n 

Mis.  Low.  I  have  picked  out  a  bold  time  :  much 
good  do  you,  gentlemen. 

Wea.  You're  welcome,  as  I  may  say,  sir. 

Mis.  Low.  Pardon  my  rudeness,  madam. 

L.  Gold.   No  such  fault,  sir; 
You're  too  severe  to  yourself,  our  judgment  quits 

you: 
Please  you  to  do  a  we  do. 

MiB.  Low,  Thanks,  good  madam. 

L.  Gold.  Make  room,  gentlemen. 

Wea.  Sit  still,  tenants;  I'll  call  in  all  your  old 
leases,  and  rack  you  else. 

Tenants,  O,  sweet  landlord  ! 

Mis.  Low,  Take  my  cloak,  sirrah.    {_Giring  cloak 
to  Low-water.] — If  any  be  disturb'd, 
I'll  not  sit,  gentlemen  :  I  see  my  place. 

Wea.  a  proper  woman  turned  gallant!  If  the 
widow  refuse  me,  I  care  not  if  I  be  a  suitor  to  bim  ; 


LIKE  A  woman's.  47 

1  have  knonn  those  who  have  been  as  mad,  and 
given  half  their  living  for  a  male  companion.  [_,^s'ule. 

Mis.  Low.  Howl  Pisces  I  is  that  mine?  'lis  a 
conceited  banquet.  [^SiCa. 

Wea,  If  you  love  any  fish,  pray,  fall  lo,  sir;  if 
you  had  coine  sooner,  you  niij{ht  have  happened 
among  some  of  the  flesh-signs,  but  now  they're  all 
taken  up :  Virgo  had  been  a  good  dish  for  you, 
had  not  one  of  my  tenants  been  somewhat  busy 
with  her. 

Mia.  Low.  Pray,  let  him  keep  her,  sir ;  give  me 
meat  fresh ; 
I'd  rather  have  whole  fish  than  broken  flesh. 

Sib  G.  Lamb.  What  say  you  to  a  bit  of  Taurus  ? 

Mis.  Low.  No,  1  thank  you,  sir  ; 
The  bull's  too  rank  for  me. 

Sir  G.Lamb.  How,  sir? 

Mis.  Low,  Too  rank,  sir. 

Sin  G.  Lamb.  Fie,  I  shall  strike  you  dumb,  like 
all  your  fellows. 

Mis.  Low,  'WhRt,  with  your  heels  or  horns? 

Sir  G.  Lamb.  Perhaps  with  both. 

Mis.  Low,  It  must  be  at  dead  low  water, 
When  I'm  dead  then. 

Low.  'Tis  a  brave  Kate,  and  nobly  spoke  of  thee  t 

Wea.  This  quarrel  must  be  drowned. — Pickadlll, 
my  lady's  fool. 

Pick.  Your,  your  own  man,  sir, 

Wea.  Prithee,  step  in  to  one  of  the  maids. 

Pick.  That  !  will,  sir,  and  thank  you  too. 

Wea.  Nay,  hark  you,  sir,  cull  for  my  sun-cup 
presently,  I'd  forgot  it. 

Pick,  How,  your  sun-cup? — Some  cup,  I  war- 
rant, that  he  stole  out  o'  the  Sun-tavern. 

l^Aside,  and  exit. 


L.  Gold.  The  more  I  look  a 


Methinks  his  beauty  (Iocs  so  far  transcend, 
Turtia  tlie  signs  back,  makes  that  the  upper  end. 

Wea.  How  cheer  you,  widow  f — Genllemen,  how 
cheer  you  ? 
Pair  weather  in  all  ciusrterB  I 
The  sun  will  peep  anon,  I've  sent  one  for  him; 
In  (he  mean  time  I'll  tell  you  a  tale  of  these. 
This  Libra  here,  that  keeps  the  scale  so  even. 
Was  i'  th'  old  time  an  honest  chandler's  widow, 
And  had  one  daughter  nhich  was  called  Virgo, 
Which  now  my  hungry  tenant  has  deflower'd. 
This  Virgo,  passing  for  a  maid,  was  sued  to 
By  Sagittarius  there,  a  gallant  shooter. 
And  Aries,  his  head  rival ;  but  her  old 
Crabb'd  uncle.  Cancer  here,  dwelling  in  Crooked 

Still  crost  the  marriage,  minding  lo  bestow  her 

Upon  one  Scorpio,  a  rich  usurer; 

The  girl,  loathing  that  match,  fell  into  fully 

With  one  Taurus,  a  gentleman,  in  Townbull '  Street, 

By  whom  she  had  two  twins,  those  Gemini  there, 

Of  which  two  brats  she  was  brought  a-bed  in  Leo, 

At  the  Red  Lion,  about  Tower  Hill  : 

Being  in  this  distress,  one  Capricorn, 

An  honest    citizen,    pitied  her  case,  and  marri«l 

To  Aquarius,  an  old  water-bearer, 
And  Pisces  was  her  living  ever  after  ; 
At  Standard"  she  sold  fish,  where  he  drew  water. 
All.  It  shall  be  yours,  sir. 

■  Toimbult  Sirrell  i.  e.  b  jocuJar  corruption,  t  nippoic,  of 
TuTDbuil,  or,  properly,  Turn  mi  II  Sireel:  lee  now,  vol.  W.  p.  34. 

■  SUuuiardl  See  nou,  vol.  i.  p.  438. 


J 


LIKE  A  woman's.  49 

L.  Gild.  Meat  and  mirth  too !  you're  lavish  ; 
Your  purse  and  tongue  have'  been  at  cost  to-day,  sir. 

Sir  G.  Lamb.  You  may  challenge  all  comers  at 
these  twelve  weapons,  I  warrant  you. 


I 


Re-efitf^ 

PtcKADiLL  earrpng  Ihe  sun-cup,  without  kit 
doublet,  and  nilh  a  veil  over  his  face. 

Pick.  Your  aun-cup,  call  you 
voyage  that  I  have   made  here 
douhlet  within,  for  fear  I  should 

it?  'lis  a  simple 
I  have  leO  my 

sweat  through  my 

jerkin ; 
fear  of 

and  thro 

un-burni 

NXi  a  cypress" 

over  my  face,  for 

Wea 

How  no 

V?  who's  this? 

why,  sirrah  1 

Pick 

Can  you 

endure  it,  mistress'! 

L.GoLt>.  E'ndu 

re  what,  fool  ? 

Wea 

Fill  the 

up,  coxcomb. 

Pick 
doublet 

Wea 

Nay,  an't  be  no  hotter,  I'll  go  put  on  my 
a^ain.                                                       \.^'**- 
What  a  whoTBou  sot  is  this !— Prithee,  fill 

the  cup,  fellow,  and  give'i  the  widow. 

Mis,  Low,  Sirrah,  how  stand  you? 
Bestow  your  service  there  upon  her  ladyship. 

[Low-wATERjSWf  the  Clip  and  preseiili  it  to 
Ladf  Golden  fleece. 

L.  Gold.  What's  here?  a  sun  ? 

Wea.  It  does  betoken,  madam, 
A  cheerful  day  to  somebody. 

L.GoLD.  h  rises 
Full  in  the  face  of  yon'  fair  sign,  and  y 


By  course  he  is  the  1; 
Here,  gentlemen,  to  you  all. 
For  you  know  th 
Signs. 
'  have]  Old  cd,  "  has." 
°  egprtii]  Writleo  also  rgpnu,  tiprti  —  i 
like  (or,  accortting  lo  Narcs,  Gleii.  in  v.,  iht 
'  ((o«]  01d«d.  "  you." 
VOL.  V.  F 


feel  the  heal,    [jlside. 


go  through  the  Twelve 
IDrlnh. 


50  VO  WIT,  «0  BSIP 

Wea.  Most  mttiUjf  widow;  yoo  jump  widi  WKf 
coneeit  rightt 
There's  not  a  hair  between  oi. 
L.  Gold.  Give  it  sir  Gilbert. 
Sib  G.  Lamb.  I  am  the  next  through  whom  Ao 
golden  flame 
Shines,  when  'tis  spent  in  thy  eelestiBl  ram ; 
The  poor  feet  there  must  wait  and  cool  awhile. 

Mis.  Low.  We  have  oar  time*  sir;  joy  and  w« 
■hall  meet ; 
Fve  known  the  proud  neek  lie  between  the  feet. 
Wba.  Soi  round  it  goes. 

[7%tf  oihers  drmk  m  mrdn. 

Re»enier  Picxadill. 

Pkk.  I  like  this  drinking  world  well. 

Wea.  »So,  fill*t  him  again. 

Pkf.  Fiirt  mc  1  why,  I  drunk  last,  sir. 

WcA.  I  know  you  did ;  but  Gemini  must  drink 
twice, 
UnlcKfi  you  mean  that  one  of  them  shall  be  chok'd. 

L.  (roLD.  Fly  from  my  heart  all  variable  thoughta! 
She  t)iat*B  cntic*d  by  every  pleasing  object. 
Shall  find  iimall  pleasure  and  as  little  rest : 
Tliis  knave  hath  lov'd  me  long,  he's  best  and  wor- 
thiest ; 
I  cannot  but  in  honour  see  him  requited.       [AMk. 
Sir  Gill>crt  Lambstone  — 

Mift.  Low.  How?  pardon  me,  sweet  lady. 
That  vvitli  a  bold  tongue  I  strike  by  your  words; 
Sir  Gilhert  Lambstone! 

Sill  G.  Lamb.  Yes,  sir,  that's  my  name. 

Mis.  Low.  There  should  be  a  rank  villain  of  that 
name; 
Came  vou  out  of  that  house  ? 


,r 


1 


UKE  A  WOMAK  s, 


let's  have  no  roaring  licre.     If  I  had  ihoiight  that, 
I'd  have  sent  my  bull  la  the  bear-garden. 

Pkp.  Why,  BO  you  should  have  wanted  one  of 
your  signs. 

Wea.  But  I  may  chance  want  two  now,  and* 
they  fall  togeiher  by  the  ears. 

L,  GoLO.  What's  the  strange  lire  that  works  in 
these  two  creatures! 
Cold  signs  both,  yet  more  hot  than  all  their  fellowa. 

Wea.  Ho,  Sol  in  Pisces!  the  sun's  in  New  Fish 
Street;  here's  an  end  of  this  course. 

Pick.  Madam,  I  am  bold  lo  remember  your  wor- 
ship for  a  year's  wages  and  a  livery  cloak. 

L.  Gold.  How,  will  you  shame  me  f  had  you  not 
both  last  week,  fool  7 

Ptck.   Ay,  but  there's  another  year  past  since 
thiit. 

L.  Gold.  Would  all  your  wit  could  make  that 

Pick.  I  am  sure  the  sun  has  run  through  all  the 
Twelve  Signs  since,  and  that's  a  year;  these*  gen- 

Wea.  The  fool  will  live,  madam. 
Pick.  Ay,  as  long  as  your  eyes  are  open,  1  war- 
Mis.  Low.  Sirrah. 
Low.  Does  your  worship  call? 
Mis.  Low.  Commend  my  love  and  service  to  the 
widow. 
Desire  her  ladyship  to  taste  that  morsel. 

IGiving  letter  lo  Low-wateh,  nho  carries  it 
to  Lady  Goldenfleece, 

•  audi  i.  e.  if.  ■  Iheie]  Old  ed.  "  tlli«." 


M  t:0  WTTi  XO  BELT 

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

SiK  G.  L4MB.  And  wherein  hu  ibn  aaiaed 
ofieoded, 

Thil  you're  so  liberal  of  your  infaBwai  titles, 
I  but  ji  stranger  to  thee !  it  tniut  be  kimwn.  lir. 
Ere  me  iwo  pari. 

Mi«.  Low,  Marry,  and  reason  good,  sir, 

L.GoLi>.  O,  strike  me  cold! — This  should  be 
your  hand,  sir  Gilbert  i 

SiB  G.  Limb.  Why,  make  you  question  of  thai, 
madam  ?  'tii  one  of  the  tetters  I  sent  you. 

L.  Gold.  Much  good  do  you,  gentlemen.  [Aumf . 

^^^■^j How  now?  whafs  the  matter!   [ja  rit. 

Wea.  Look   to  the  widow,  she  |>ain(s  white- 
Some  aqua  cakttU  for  my  lady !  run,  rillain. 

Pick.  Aqva  tolislerf  can  nobody  help  her  eaac 
but  a  lawyer,  and  so  many  suitors  here  F 

L.  Goij>.  O  treachery  unmatch'd,  unhi-ard  of  I 

Sib  G.  Lamb.  How  do  you,  madam  ? 

L.  Gold.  O  impudence  as  foul !  does  my  ilisesae 
Ask  bow  I  do  7  can  it  torment  my  Heart, 
And  look  wiih  a  fresh  colour  in  my  face ! 

Sib  G.  Lamb.   What's  this,  what's  this  ? 

Wba.   I  am  lorry  for  liiis  qualm,  widow. 

L.  Gold.  He  that  would  know  a  villain  when  he 
meets  him, 
Let  bim  ne'er  go  to  a  conjuror ;  here's  a  glass 
Will  shew  him  without  money,  and  far  truer. — 
Preserver  of  my  state,  pray,  tell  me,  sir, 
That  I  may  pay  you  all  my  thanks  together. 
What  hlest  hap  brought  that  letter  to  your  hand. 
From  me  so  fast  lock'd  in  mine  enemy's  power. 

M:s.  Low,  1  will  resolve'  you,  madam.     I've  a 
kinsman 

'  nttivtl  L  e.  utiily,  inToim. 


Somewhat  infected  with  thai  wanton  pity 
Which  men  bestow  on  the  distress  of  women, 
Especially  if  they  be  fair  and  poor  ; 
With  such  hot  charity,  which  indeed  is  lust. 
He  sought  t'  entice,  aa  his  repentance  told  me, 
Her  whom  you  call  your  enemy,  the  wife 

To  a  poor  gentleman,  one  Low-water 

L.  Gold.  Right,  right,  the  same- 
Low.  Had  it  been  right,  "t  had  now  been.   [^Aside. 
Mis.  Low.  And,  according  to  the  common  rate  of 


Offer'd  large  maintenance,  which  nith  her  scem'd 

nothing  ; 
For  if  she  would  consent,  she  told  him  roundly. 
There  was  a  knight  had  bid  more  at  one  minute 
Than  all  his  wealth  could  compass ;  and  withal, 
Pluck'd  out  that  letter,  as  it  were  in  scorn, 
Which  by  good  fortune  he  put  up  in  jest. 
With  promise  that  the  writ  should  be  returnable 
The  next  hour  of  his  meeting.    But,  sweet  madam, 
Out  of  my  love  and  zeal,  I  did  so  practise 
The  part  upon  him  of  an  urgent  wooer. 
That  neither  he  nor  that  return'd  more  to  her. 

SiB  G.  Lamb.  Plague  a'  that  kinsman  !       Inside. 

Wea.  Here's  a  gallant  rascal ! 

L.  Gold.   Sir,  you've  appear'd  so  noble  in  this 

.So  full  of  worth  and  goodness,  that  my  thanks 

Will  rather  shame  the  bounty  of  my  mind 

Than  do  it  honour. —  O,  thou  treacherous  villain  ! 

Does  thy  faith  bear  such  fruit  1 

Are  these  the  blossoms  of  a  hundred  oaths 

Shot  fi-om  ihy  bosom!  was  thy  love  so  spiteful. 

It  could  not  be  content  to  mock  my  heart. 

Which  is  in  love  a  misery  too  much, 

But  must  extend  so  far  to  the  quick  ruin 


M 


0  WIT,  Ko  neu" 


or  what  was  painrully  got,  carefully  left  me ; 
And,  'mongst  a  world  of  yielding  needy  women, 
Choose  no  one  to  make  merry  wiih  my  sorrows. 
And  spend  my  weiillh  on  in  adulterous  surfeiu, 
But  my  most  mortal  enemy  !     O,  despiteful ! 
Ii  this  thy  practice?  follow  it,  'twill  advance  thee; 
Go,  beguile  on.    Have  I  so  happily  found 
What  many  a  widow  has  with  sorrow  tasted, 
Even  when  my  lip  touch'd  the  contracting  cup. 
Even  then  to  see  the  spider  ?  'twas  miraculous  I 
Crawl  with  thy  poisons  hen» ;  and  for  ihy  sake 
I'll  never  covet  titles  and  more  riches, 
To  full  into  a  gulf  of  hate  and  laughter: 
I'll  marry  love  hereafter,  I've  enough  ; 
And  warning  that,  I've  nothing.     There's  tliy  way. 

Over.  Do  you  hear,  sir?  you  must  walk. 

Pep.  Heart,  thrust  him  down  stairs! 

Wea.  Out  of  my  house,  you  treacherous,  lechei-    , 

8iuG.  Lamh.  All  curses  scatter  you  I 

Wea.  Life,  do  you  thunder  herel    [£xi(SiKa^ 
Lambstoke.]    If  you  had  stayed  a  little  longer,  I'd 
have  ript  out  some  of  my  Bull  out  of  your  belty 
again. 

Pep.  'Twas  a  most  noble  discovery;   we  must 
love  you  for  ever  for'l. 

L.  Gold.  Sir,  for  your  banquet  and  your  mirth 
we  thank  you  ; — 
You,  gentlemen,  for  your  kind  company  ;  — 
But  you,  for  all  my  merry  days  to  come. 
Or  this  had  been  the  last  else. 

Mi3.  Low.  Love  and  fortune 
Had  more  care  of  your  safety,  peace,  and  si 
madHm. 

Wea.  Now  will  I  thrust  in  for't.  [Atidt,  i 

Pep.  I'm  for  myself  now.  [Atiia,  J 


0?EK.  What's  fifty  years?  'do  man's  best  lime 
and  season ; 
Now  the  knight's  gone,  the  widow  will  hear  reason, 

Low.  Now,  now,  the  suitors  flatter,  hold  on,  Kate  ; 

The  hen  may  pick  the  meat  while  the  cocks  prate- 

{_Extunl, 

SCENE  II. 

A  street. 

EnUr  Sandfield,  Philip  Twilight,  and  Satoubwit. 

Phil.  ITtliou  talk'st  longer,  I  shall  turn  to  marble, 
And  death  will  stop  tny  hearing. 

Sand.  Horrible  fortune ! 

Sav.  Nay,  sir,  our  building  is  so  far  dcfac'd. 
There  is  no  stuff  left  to  raise  up  a  hope. 

Phil,  O,  with  more  patience  could  my  flesh  endure 
A  score  of  wounds,  and  all  their  several  searchings. 
Than  this  that  thou  hast  told  me  1 

Sav.  Would  that  Flemish  ram 
Had  ne'er  come  near  our  house!  there's  no  going 

As  long  as  he  has  a  nest  there,  and  bis  young  one, 
A  little  Flanders  egg  new  fledg'd:  they  gape 
For  pork,  and  I  shall  be  made  meat  for  'cm. 

Phil.  'Tis  not  the  bare  news  of  my  mother's 
life— 
May  she  live  long  and  happy  ! — that  afflicts  me 
With  half  the  violence  that  the  latter  draws  ; 
Though  in  that  news  I  have  my  share  of  grief, 
As  I  had  share  of  sin  and  a  foul  neglect; 
It  is  my  love's  betraying,  that's  the  ating 
That  strikes  through  flesh  and  spirit ;  anil  sense  nor 

From  thee,  in  whora  1  ne'er  saw  ebb  till  now, 


SV  vo  WIT,  xo  nsLr 

Nor  gwferU  frotn  >  faithful  frienil  can  ease  me ; 

in  uy  the  KOOtlncM  of  a  thiid  companion, 

What  bc'U  do  for  mc.  [Drairmg  hit  rvord. 

Baud.  Hold  !  why,  friend 

Sat.  Why,  muter,  if  this  all  your  kindnes*,  sir  T 
offfT  to  alfal  into  another  country,  and  ne'er  take 

Cleave  on'*?  troth,  I  take  It  unkindly  at  your 
«,  lir;  liut  I'll  put  it  ay  fur  once.  IS/ieath'tng 
PuiLir'*  nrord.]  Faith,  there  vraa  no  conseii-nce  in 
this,  lir;  leave  me  here  to  endure  all  weather*, 
whiUt  you  make  your  toul  dance  like  a  juggler's 
egg  upon  the  point  of  a  rapier!  By  my  troth,  sir, 
you're  to  blame  in'l ;  you  mij^ht  have  given  us  an 
inkling  of  your  journey  ;  perhaps  others  would  ss 
fain  have  gimc  a>  you. 

Piiii..  Burnt  thii  clay-lamp  of  miacrable  life. 
When  joy,  the  oil  that  feed*  it,  is  dried  up  ? 

Enttr  Lady  Twilioht,  Betekil,  and  Sftvanfs. 

L.  Twi.  He  has  remov'd  hh  house. 

Bev.  So  il  scemi,  madam. 

LTwi.  I'll  ask  that  gentleman. — Pray,  can  you 
tell  me,  sir, 
Which  in  sir  Oliver  Twilight'i  ? 

Ph:l.  Few  can  hettcr,  gentlewoman; 
It  is  the  next  fair  house  your  eye  can  fix  on. 

L.  Twi.  I  thank  you,  sir.— Go  on.  [^Eieunt  Ser- 
eanli.] — He  had  a  son 
About  some  ten  years  since. 

Phil.  Tliat  son  still  lives. 

L.  Twi.  I  pray,  how  does  he,  sirT 

Phil.  Faith,  much  about  my  health, — that's  never 
worse. —  [A tide. 

If  you  have  any  business  to  him,  gentlewoman, 
I  can  cut  short  your  journey  to  the  house ; 
I'm  all  that  ever  was  of  the  same  kind. 


J 


LIKE  A  WOKAK 


Upon  tlie  heart  of  mother! — This  is  1 
Bev.  My  seven-years'  travel  has  e 


'  my  remembrance. 

Sav.  0,  this  gear's  wo 

se  and  nor 

so !        [Aiide 

Pmr..  I  am  so  wonder- 

struck  at  > 

our  blest  pre- 

That,  through  amaz'djoy,  I  neglect  my  duty. 

[KneeU. 
L.  Twi.  [raising  Aim]  Rise,  and  a  thousand  bless- 
ings spring  up  wiih  thee  I 
Sav.  I  would  we  had  but  one  in  the  meantime ; 
Let  the  rest  grow  at  leisure.  [_Aiide. 

L.  Twi.  But  know  you  not  this  gentleman  yet, 

son? 
PniL.  I  take  it's  master  Beveril. 
Bev.  My  name's  Beveril,  sir. 
Phil.  Right  welcome  to  my  bosom! 

\_Embracing  him. 
L.  Twi.  You'd  not  think,  son, 
How  much  I  am  beholding'  to  this  gentleman, 
As  far  as  freedom ;  he  laid  out  the  ransom. 
Finding  me  eo  distress'd. 

Phil.  'Twas  worthily  done,  sir. 
And  I  shall  ever  rest  your  servant  for't. 

Bev.  You  quite  forget  your  worth  ;  'twasmygood 

To  return  home  that  way,  after  some  travals ; 
Where,  finding  your  good  mother  so  distress'd, 
I  could  not  but  in  pity  see  her  releas'd. 

Phil.  It  was  a  noble  charity,  air  ;  heaven  quit' 
you  I 

■  beholdhg}  See  noie.  p.  38. 
*  gaii]  i.  e.  requite. 


58  KO  WIT,  HO  BBLf 

Sav.  It  comes  it  lut !  [vfrirfc 

Bev.  I  \el\  a  lister  here. 
New  married  when  I  Iasi  took  leave  of  England. 

Phil.  O,  niUtres*  Low-water. 

Bev.  Pray,  lir,  how  does  she  ? 

Pmt-  So  tittle  comfort  I  can  ^ve  you,  sir. 
That  I  would  fain  excuse  myself  for  silence. 

Bet.  WTiy,  what's  the  worst,  sJt  ? 

Phil.  Wrongs  haTe*"  made  her  poor, 

Bev.  Vou  strike  my  heart :  alas,  good  gcDtle- 

Phil.  Here's  a  gentleman  — 
You  know  liim— master  SnndfieM  — 

Bet.  I  crave  pardon,  sir. 

Phil.  He  can  resolve'  you  from  her  kinswoman. 

Sand.  Welcome  to  England,  madam  ! 

Ladv  Twi.  Thanks,  good  sir. 

Phil.  Now  there's  no  way  to  'scape,  I'm  com- 
pass'd  round ; 
My  shame  is  tike  a  prisoner  set  with  halberds. 

Sat.  Pish,  master,  master,  'lis  young  flood  again. 
And  you  can  take  your  time  now  ;  away,  quicit! 

Phil.  Push,''  thou'st  a  swimming  head. 

Sav.  Will  you  but  liear  me? 
When  did  you  lose  your  tide  when  I  set  forth  with 
you! 

Phil.  That's  true. 

Sav.  Regard  me  then,  though  you've  no  feeling; 
I  would  not  hang  by  the  thumbs  with  n  good  will. 

PuiL.  1  hang  by  th'  heart,  sir,  and  would  fain 
have  ease. 

Sav,  Then  this  or  none:   fly  to  your  mother'* 

p'ty. 

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


J. 


quite 

hear  you ; 
n  for  'em ; 
id  not  nicely ; 


For  that's  ihe  court  must  help  you;  you' 

At  conimon  law,  no  counsellor  Ci 

Confess  your  follies,  and  ask  par 

Tell  her  the  state  of  all  things,  s 

The  meat's  too  hard 

To  be  minc'd  now,  she  breeds  young  bones  by  this 

Deal  plainly,  heaven  will  bless  thee  ;  turn  out  all, 
And  shake  your  pockets  ader  h  ;  beg,  weep. 
Kneel,  any  thing,  it  will  break  no  bones,  man : 
Let  her  not  rest,  take  breathing  time,  nor  leave 
thee, 
.  Till  thou  hast  got  her  help. 

Phil.  Lad,  I  conceive  thee. 

Sav.  About  it,  (hen  ;  it  requires  haste — do't  well ; 
There's  but  a  short  street  hetneen  us  and  hell. 

Bev.  Ah,  my  poor  sister! 

L.  Twi.  'Las,  good  gentlewoman  ! 
My  heart  even  weeps  for  her. — Ay,  son,  we'll  go 

Phil.  May  I  crave  one  word,  madam  ? 

ISlauins  Lady  Twilight." 
L.Twi.  With  me,  son? 
The  more,  the  better  welcome. 
Sav.  Now,  now,  luck  ! 

last  prayer  1  made 

t  Bartholomew- tide  ;  'twould 


i 


I  pray  not  olten  ;  tbi 
Was  nine-year  old  h 

have  been 
A  jolly  chopper  and^ 

L.  Twi.  Why  do  your  word 

Of  her  that  ever  lov'd  ihem  ? 


had  liv'd  till  this  tim 
:  words  start  hack  ?  ) 


B  they 


■  Slaving 
<«*ili. 


tg  Lady  Tvilighl]  OIU  ed,  "  Shog,  hii  ihHier. 


Phil,  i'tv  a  wit  u  j««,  mmi 
L.  Tvi.  Yott'n  uld  Be  iW 


irt  be  M  |rreu>  my 
I  thkU  be  abler,  iK->' 


Wha4c>r  '(  be.  Ic 
ftr't. 

Pbil.  [tKWf]  R 

tbemmi 

My  coasdnacc  Icdfc 

IdIo  uniwuural  in 

I  spent  iht  rMiioR  «lwrMS^ 

To  lel  my  pleuurei        .-,  joa  by  ^ 

Say.  He  doei  it  hociy,  luai.  [AiA 

L.Twi.  And»  thiiiUiMwT 
You  use  me  like  a  •iranscr;    pray,  (taDd  up. 

Pbil.    Rather    fall    flat;     I    ihall    ikwrrc    y«cj 

L.  Twi.   [rnijtnjp   PiiiLtp]   Whaic'er  yniar   I 
are,  caiecm  me  ■till  a  fnend, 
Or  else  you  nroog  ine  matt  iu  aAkti^c  pardon 
Than  when  you  ilid  the  wrong  you  aik  il  it  far ; 
And  gince  you  have  prepar'd  inc  to  fur^irc  you. 
Pray,  let  me  know  Tor  what ;  the  (irtt  fault*  im 
thing. 
Sav.  'Ti»  a  sweet  lady  every  inch  of  her! 

I  the  nrn>ng  then  that  drirM 


pHit.   Her 


cihe 

I  aaiT  a  face  at  Antwerp  that  quite  drew  me 
From  conscience  and  obedience  ;  in  thai  fray 
1  loBt  my  heart,  t  must  needs  lose  my  way ; 
There  went  the  ransom,  to  redeem  my  mind ; 
'Stead  of  the  money,  I  brought  over  her ; 
And  to  cast  iniata  before  my  father's  ey«s, 


Told  Lin 

And  that  yourself  was  dead:  vou  see  ihe  wrong, 
L.  Twi.  This  is  bul  youtlifu'l  siill.— O,  that  word 

Afflicts  me  when  I  think  on't! — I  forgive  thee 
As  freely  as  thou  didst  it;  for,  alas, 
This  may  be  call'd  good  dealing  to^  gome  parts 
That  love  and  youth  play**  daily  among  sons. 

Sav-  She  helps  our  knavery  well,  that's  one  good 
comfort.  [yfsiJe. 

Phil.  But  such  is  the  hard  plight  my  state  lives 

That  'tnixt  forgiveness  1  must  sin  again, 
And  seek  my  help  where  1  bestow'd  my  wrongs  : 
O  mother,  pity  once,  though  against  reason, 
'Cause  1  can  merit  none  ;  though  my  wrongs  grieve 

ye,' 
Yet  let  it  be  your  glory  to  relieve  me! 

L.  Twi.  Wherein  have  !  given  cause  yet  of  mis- 

That  you  should  doubt  my  succour  and  my  love ! 
Shew  me  but  in  what  kind  I  may  bestow  'em. 
Phil.  There  came  a  Dutchman  with  report  this 


That  yo, 


ivmg. 


L.  Twi.  Came  he  so  lately  ? 

Pmt..  Yes,  madam; 
Which  news  so  struck  my  father  on  the  sudden. 
That  he  grows  jealous'  of  my  faith  in  both  ; 
These  five  hours  have  I  kept  me  from  his  sight, 
And  wish'd  myself  eternally  so  hid  ; 
And  surelyi  had  not  your  blest  presence  quicken'd 
The  flame  of  life  in  me,  all  had  gone  out. 


D.  compare d  with. 


*  play]  Old  ed.  "  playi." 


ye]  Old  ed.  "  you :"  but  B  couplet  wu  evideody  intinded. 


62  xo  wir,  Ko  HELP 

Now,  lo  coniirm  tne  to  his  trust  again, 
And  settle  much  artglit  in  liii  opinion, 
Say  Imt  she  is  my  sisitr,  and  all's  well, 

L.  Twi.  You  ask  devotion)  like  a  bashrul  heggMt, 
That  pure  need  urges,  and  not  lazy  impudence ; 
And  to  express  how  glad  I  am  to  pity  you. 
My  bounty  shall  flow  over  your  demand ; 
I  will  not  only  with  a  constant  breath 
Approve**  that,  but  excuse  tliee  for  my  death. 

Sav.  Why,  here's 
A  woman  made  as  a  man  would  with  to  have  hert 

PiiiL.  0,  I  am  plac'd  higher  in  happinecs 
Than  whence  1  fell  before ! 

Sav,  We're  brave  fellows  once  again,  and'  wt 
can  keep  our  own  : 
Now  holfre  loHic,  our  pipes  play  as  loflily!  [^Atide, 

Bev.  My  sister  fled! 

Sasd.    Both  fled,  that's   the  news   now:    want 
must  obey ; 
Oppressions  came  so  thick,  they  could  not  stay. 

Bev.  Mean  are  my  fortunes,  yet,  had  1  been  nigh, 
DiEiress  nor  wrong  should  have  made  virtue  fly. 

L.  Twi.    Spoke  like  a  brother,  worthy  such  a 

Bet,  Griefs  like  a  new  wound,  heat  beguiles 

the  sense, 

For  I  shall  feel  this  smart  more  three  days  hence. 

Come,  madam,  sorrow's  rude,  and  forgets  manners. 

![Excvnl  all  except  Savoprwit. 

Sat.  Our  knavery  is  for  all  the  world  like  a 

shifting  bankrupt ;  it  breaks  in  one  place,  and  sets 

1  ilnvliim']  Campnrc  the  rnnnuiK'un  Strvict,  "»htl\  rectrive 
the  almt  Tnr  the  poor,  an  J  other  lUtoIiimi  of  Ifae  people,  in  a 
dreent  baain." 

'  'fpp'i'^]  i-  *-  prove.  and]  L  t.  it 


I 


LIKE  A  woman's.  03 

up  in  another :  he  tries  all  trades,  from  a  gohUinith 
to  a  tobacco-seller;  we  try  all  shifis,  from  an  out- 
law to  a  flatterer :  he  cozens  the  husband,  and  com- 
pounds with  the  widow;  we  cozen  my  master,  and 
compound  with  my  mistress:  only  here  I  turn  o* 
the  right  hand  from  him, — he  is  known  to  live  like 
a  rascal,  ivlien  I  am  thought  to  live  like  a  gentle- 
man. lExit. 


.SCENE  III. 
n  Ladt  Goi 


Enter  Mistress  Low-water  and  Low-water,  bot/t 
disguised  as  before. 

Mis.  Low.  I've  sent  in  one  to  the  widow. 
Low.  Well  said,  Kale ! 
Thou  ply'st  thy  business  close;  the  coast  is  clear 

Mis.  Low.  Let  me  but  have  warning, 
I  shall  make  pretty  shift  with  them. 

Low.  Titat  thou  shalt,  wench.  [^Exil. 

Enter  Servant. 

Ser.  My  lady,  sir,  commends  her  kindly  to  you. 
And  for  the  third  part  of  an  hour,  sir. 
Desires  your  patience ; 
Two  or  three  of  her  tenants  out  of  Kent 
Will  hold  her  so 

Mis.  Low.  Th 
'Tis  fit  1  should 


i 


I  busied. 


and  leisure. 

lExit  Servant 
Those  wore  my  tenants  once  ;  but  what  relief 
Ib  there  in  what  hath  been,  or  what  I  was  ? 
'TJB  now  that  mokes  the  man ;  a  last-year's  feast 


Yielda  little  comfort  foT  the  pretetil  humour  i 

He  starve!  that  feed*  his  hopes  with  what  it  past. — 


Low.  They're  come,  newly  alighted. 
Mis.  Low,  Peace,  peace! 
I'll  have  a  trick  for  'em ;  look  you  second  n 


nil 


Low.  I  warrant  thee. 

Mis.  Low.  I  must  seem  very  imperious,  I  can 
tell  you ;  therefore,  if  I  should  chance  to  use  you 
roughly,  pray,  forgive  me  beforehand. 

Low.  With  all  my  heart,  Kate. 

Mis.  Low.  You  must  look  for  no  obedience  in 
these''  clothes;  that  lies  in  the  pocket  of  my  gown. 

Low.  Well,  well,  I  will  not  then. 

Mis,  Low.  I  hear  'em  coming,  step  back  a  little, 
sir.  [Low-WATBR  retire*.] — Where  be  those  fellows? 
•  Enter  WEATHEawisE,  Peppehtok,  and  Overdose. 
Who  looks  out  there?  is  there  ne'er  a  knave  i'  th' 
house  to  take  those  gentlemen's  horses  ?  where  wait 
you  to-day  ?  how  stand  you,  like  a  dreaming  goose 
in  a  corner?  the  gentlemen's  horses,  forsooth  ! 

Low.  Yes,  an't  like'  your  worship.  [^Exit. 

Pep.  What's  here?  a  strange  alteration  I 

Wea.  a  new  lord  !  would  I  were  upon  my  mare's 
back  again  then  I 

Mis.  Low.  Pray,  gentlemen,  pardon  the  rudetiess 
of  these  grooms, 
I  hope  they  will  be  brought  to  better  fashion  ; 
In  the  meantime,  you're  welcome,  gentlemen. 

All.  Wc  thank  jou,  sir. 

Wba.  Life,  here's  quick  work  I  I'll  hold  my  life, 


»  Ihtu']  Old  ed.  ■'  those." 


;««]  i. 


n 


has  Btiiiek  ihe  widow  i'  the  right  planet,  Fmutin 
Cauda.'  I  thought  'twas  a  lecherous  planet  that  goes 
to't  with  a  caudle. 

Re-enter  Low-water. 

Mia.  Low.  How  now,  air? 

Low,  The  gentlemen's  horses  are  set  up,  sir. 

Pep.  No,  no,  no,  we'll  away. 

Wea.  We'll  away. 

Mis.  Low.  How  !  by  niy  faith,  but  you  shall  not 
yet,  by  your  leave. — Where's  Bessf  —  Call  your 
RiistresB,  sir,  to  welcome  these  kind  gentlemen,  my 
friends.  [Exit  Low-watzr. 

Pep.  How!  Bess? 

Over.  Peg? 

Wea.  Plain  Bess?  1  know  how  the  world  goes 
then ;  he  has  been  a-bed  with  Bess :  i'faith,  there's 
no  trust  to  these  widows  ;  a  young  horsing  gentle- 
man carries  'em  away  clear. 

Re-enter  Low-water. 

Mis,  Low.  Now,  where's  your  mistress,  sir  7  how 
chance  she  comes  not  7 

Low.  Sir,  she  requests  you  to  excuse  her  for  a 
while  ;  she's  busy  with  a  milliner  about  gloves. 

Mis.  Low,  Gloves! 

Wea.  Hoyday  !  gloves  too ! 

Mis.  Low.  Could  she  find  no  other  time  to  choose 
gloves  but  now,  when  my  friends  are  here  ? 

Pep.  No,  sir,  'tis  no  matter ;  we  thank  you  for 
your  good  will,  sir :  to  say  truth,  we  have  no 
business  with  her  at  all  at  this  time,  i'faith,  sir. 

Mis.  Low,  O,  that's  another  matter ;  yet  stay, 
stay,  gentlemen,  and  taste  a  cup  of  wine  ere  you 
go- 


Over.  No,  thank  y 


Mi».  Loir.  Ms«ur  Pepperion — master  Weather- 
nriH,  will  joa,  tirT 

Wea.  111  nee  the  wine  in  a  drunkard's  Bhoes 
fint,  and  drink't  after  he  has  brened  it.  But  let 
her  BO  i  (he**  fitted,  iTaith  ;  a  proud,  turly  sir  here, 
be  uominren  already ;  out;  that  will  shake  her 
bones,  and  so  lo  dice  with  her  money,  or  I  have  no 
skill  in  a  c^endar :  life,  he  that  can  be  so  saucy  to 
call  her  Bess  already,  will  call  her  prating  quean  a 
TDontlt  bcDce. 

lExevnt  Weatuerwibe,  Pepperton,  and 
Overdone, 

Low.  They've  given  thee  all  the  slip. 

Mia.  Iiow.  So,  a  fair  riddance  I 
There's  three  rubs  gone,  I've  a  clear  way  to  the 


Low,   You'd   need  have  a  clear  way,  because 
you're  a  bad  pricker. 

Mts.  Iiow.  Yet  if  my  bowl  take  bank,  I  shall  go 
nigh 
To  make  myself  a  saver, 

Here's  alley-room  enouch  ;  I'll  try  my  fortune: 
I'm  to  begin  the  world  like  n  younger  brother ; 
I  know  tliat  a  bold  face  and  a  good  spirit 
Is  all  the  jointure  he  can  make  [a]  widow. 
And  't  shall  go  hard  but  I'll  be  as  rich  as  be. 
Or  at  least  seem  so,  and  ihai's  wealth  enough ; 
For  nothing  kills  a  widow's  heart  so  much 
As  a  faint,  bashful  wooer;  though  he  have  thou- 

sands. 
And  come  with  a  poor  water-gruel  spirit 
And  a  fish-market  face,  he  shall  ne'er  speed ; 
I  would  not  have  himself  left  a  poor  widower. 


Low,  Faith,  I'm  glad  I'm  alive  to  cornmend  thee, 
Kate ;  I  shall  be  sure  dow  to  see  my  commendations 
delivere<l. 

Mis.  Low.  I'll  put  her  to't,  i'faitli. 

Low.  But  soft  ye,  Kate  ; 
How  and*  she  should  accept  of  your  bold  kindness? 

Mis,  Low.  A  chief  point  to  be  thought  on,  by 
my  faith .' 
Marry,  therefore,  sir,  he  you  sure  to  step  in. 
For  feai  I  should  shame  myself  and  spoil  all. 

Low.  Well,  I'll  save  your  credit  then  for  once; 
but  took  you  come  there  no  more- 
Mis.  Low.  Away  !  1  hear  het  coming. 

Low.  I  am  vanish'd.  {^EiU. 

Enter  Lady  Goldbn fleece.  ' 

Mis,  Low,  How  does  my  life,  ray  soul,  my  denr 
sweet  madam  7 

L,  Gold,  I've  wrong'd  your  patience,  made  you 
stand  too  long  here. 

Mis,  Low,  There's  no  such  thing,  i'faith,  rnadam, 
you're  pleas'd  to  say  so, 

L.  OoLD.  Yea,  J  confess  I  was  loo  slow,  sir. 

Mis.  Low.  Why,  you  shall  make  me  amends  for 
ihat,  then,  with  a  quickness  in  your  bed. 

L.  Gold,  That  were  a  speedy  mends,  sir. 

Mis.  Low,  Why,  then,  you  are  out  of  my  debt; 
I'll  cross  the  book,  and  turn  over  a  new  leaf  with 
you, 

L.  Gold.  So,  with  paying  a  small  debt,  I  may 
chance  run  into  a  greater. 

Mis.  Low.  My  fajlh,  your  credit  will  be  the 
better  then ;  there's  many  a  brave  gallant  would 
be  glad  of  such  fortune,  and  pay  use  for't, 

I  nni]  i.  e.  if. 


L.  Goto.  Sorn«  of  them  hare  nodiiag  rb«  to  do ; 
they  would  be  tdle  aod"  'twere  noc  (or  interetl. 

Mi9,  Low.  I  prODiite  you,  widow,  were  I  a  *etm 
up,  such  it  my  opinion  of  your  payment,  I  dnnt 
trust  you  with  alt  the  ware  in  my  ibop. 

L.  Gold.  I  thank  yon  for  your  good  will,  I  can 
have  no  more. 

Mis,  Low,  Not  of  me,  i'faith  ;  nor  that  neither, 
and"*  you  knew"  all.  [^Ande.'] — Come,  make  but 
short  service,  widow,  a  kiss  and  to  bed;  I'm  very 
hungry,  i'faith,  wench. 

L,  Gold.  What,  are  jon,  sir! 

Mis.  Low.  O,  a  younger  brother  has  an  excel* 
lent  stomach,  madam,  worth  a  hundred  of  your 
BOni  and  heirs,  that  stay  their  wedding- stomachs 
with  a  hot  bit  of  b  common  mistress,  and  then  come 
to  a  widow's  bed  like  a  flash  of  lightning:  you're 
sure  of  the  first  of  me,  not  of  the  five -hundredth  of 
them  ;  I  never  took  physic  yet  in  my  life ;  you  shall 
have  the  doctor  continually  with  them,  or  some 
boitle  for  his  deputy,  out  fliea  your  moneys  for 
restoratives  and  strengthenings;  in  me  'tis  saved 
in  your  putse  and  found  in  your  children :  they'll 
get  peevish"  pothecaries'  stuff,  you  may  weigh  'em 
by  th'  ounces ;  I,  boys  of  war,  brave  commanders, 
that  shall  bear  a  breadth  in  their  shoulders  and  a 
weight  in  their  hips,  and  run  over  a  whole  country 
with  a  pound  a'  beef  and  a  biscuit  in  their  belly. 


vidow,  ray  kiitses  are  virgins 
perfect,  my  strength  solitl,  my  lot 
heat  comfortable ;   but,  to  come  ti 


■  jKHntA]  i,  e,  fooliib,  weak,  poor. 


t  knew  Ronua  I 
I  knew  her,  by  ihia 


LIKE  A  woxAs  a.  69 

Lv  Gold.  But  lofl  )re,  soft  ye ;  because  you  aund 
so  strictly 
Upon  your  purity,  111  pnt  you  to't,  sir ; 
Will  you  snear  here  you  n 
Mts.  Low.  Never,  aa  ma 

light,  widow ! 

L.  Gold.  What,  what,  air? — 'Shrew  my  heart,  be 

movea  me  luucb.  [/ttide. 

Mis.  Ixiw.  Nay,  since  you  lore  to  bring  a  inan 

I  take  into  the  aame  oath  thua  much  more. 
That  you  are  the  first  nidow,  or  maid,  or  wife. 
That  ever  I  in  suit  of  love  did  court. 
Or  honestly  did  woo :  bow  say  you  to  that,  widow  1 

L.  Gold.  Marry,  I  aay,  air,  you  had  a  good  por- 
tion of  chastity  led  you,  though  ill  fortune  run 
away  with  the  rest. 

Mis.  Low.  That  I  kept  for  thee,  widow ;  ahe'a 
of  fortune,  and  all  her  strait  -  bodied  daughiera  ; 
thou  shall  bave't,  widow.  [A'iwiiig  her. 

L.  Got-D.  Puah,^  what  do  you  mean! 

Mia.  Low.  I  cannot  bestow't  better. 

L.  GoLn.  I'll  call  my  servants. 

Mis.  Low.  By  my  troth,  you  shall  not,  madam. 


Re-enter  Low-water. 
Low.  Does  your  worship  call,  air  ? 
Mis.  Low.  Ha,  pox!  are  you  peeping ?- 
[_Tkromt'*  tomelbing  at  Low-water, 


He  came  in  a  good  time,  I  thank  hin 
L.  Gold.  What  do  yon  think  of  m 
forward,  air  I 


for't.  [^Atide, 
?  you're  »ery 


I 

I 


Ik.  Law.  Dm  1«>»  AmM  mA  mm  «Eif«  h 

tf  il  ^  ^  AmK  TM  Mt  WmI  M  CM. 

-*^ I,  'i -  '•  ^  , 

mJuTTw  kM  Mf  «^*9a  r 
~ ,  M^rn  Mk  A* 


Su.  fl«  ^BTT  Mf  Uj  -   *^>  Anv'i  BO  sach 
Hn.  Low.  O.  hcR  dwT  n*  aO  ■««■  wo! 

Ik  Gouk.  Are  yo«  eme,  gtMlea^  ! 

I  wish  no  bettcc  men. 
'  WcA.  O,  the  mooa's  Aamf'A  mom  I 
L.  Gold.  See  jwi  OtU  geadcna  yooderf 
Pef.  Ye^  twetl  na^mm. 

L.  Gold.  Then.  pray,  be  »««»  •D  of  yo«,  wuh 
this  kiss           f  A7*i«  MuncM  Low-waim. 
I  choose  him  for  my  husband 

PxF.    [Apoxon't! 
OvekJ 

'  iMd}  Old  ed.  "  Icwb." 


^ 


I.1KE  A  WOMAK  H.  I  1 

L.  Gold.  And  with  tbis  parted  gold,  that  tvro 

[Break!  gold  into  two  pieces,  and  ghn  one  to 

Mis.  Low.  Never  with  chaster  lore  than  this  of 

L.  Gold.  And  those  that  have  the  hearts  to  come 
to  the  wedding. 
They  shall  be  welcome  for  their  former  loves. 

lExit. 

Pep.  No,  I  thank  you ;  you've  choked  me  already, 

Wea.  I  never  suspected  mine  almanac  till  now; 
I  believe  he  plays  cogging'  John  with  me,  1  bought 
it  at  his  shop;  it  may  learn  (he  more  knavery  by 
that. 

Mis.  Low,  Now  indeed,  gentlemen,  1  can  bid  you 
welcome ; 
Before  'twas  but  a  flourish, 

Wea.  Nay,  so  my  almanac  told  me  there  should 
be  an  eclipse,  but  not  visible  in  our  horizon,  but 
about  the  western  inhabitauts  of  Mexicana  and 
California. 

Mis.  Low.  Well,  we  have  no  business  there,  sir. 

Wea.  Not  we  have  none  here,  sir ;  and  so  fare 
you  well. 

Mis.  Low.  You  save  the  house  a  good  labour, 
gentlemen.  \_Exeuat  Weatmerwise,  Peppehton,  and 
Overdose.]  —  Tlie  foo!  carries  them  away  in  a 
voider.'     Where  be  these  fellows  ! 

Re-€filer  Servant,  Pickadill,  and  Low-watek. 

Ser.  Sir? 

Pick.  Here,  sir  ! 

'  cBggiug]  i.  e.  Ifing,  cbealing.    The  particular  alluslan  I 
'  teiiler}  8«e  Dole,  vol.  iv,  p.  405. 


Seb.  What['»]  your  worBhip['«]  plrssure? 

Mis.  Low.  O,  ihis  is  aomclhing  like. — Take  you 

Here  are  those  now  more  lit  to  be  commandei). 

Low,  How  few  women  are  of  thy  mit\d !  tlie 
tliinks  it  too  much  to  keep  me  In  subjection  for  one 
day  i  wbereas  some  wives  would  be  glad  to  keep 
their  husbands  in  awe  all  days  of  ilieir  lives,  anti 
think  it  tlie  beat  bargain  that  e'er  they  made. 

\_Aiide,  and  cxtt. 

Mts.  Low.  I'll  spare  no  cost  for  the  wedding; 

To  shew  our  thankfulness  to  wit  and  fortune  ; 
It  shall  be  BO. — Run  straight  for  one  o'  the  wits. 

Pick.  How  1  one  o'  the  wits  1  1  care  not  if  I  run 
on  that  account :  are  ibey  in  town,  think  you  ? 

Mis.  Low.  Whither  runnest  thou  now? 

FirK.  To  an  ordinary  for  one  of  the  nits. 

Mis.  Low.  Why  to  an  ordinary  above  a  tavern  i 

Pick.  No,  1  hold  your  best  wits  to  be  at  ordinary ; 
nothing  so  good  in  a  tavern. 

Mis.  Low.  And  why,  I  pray,  sir? 

Pick.  Because  those  that  go  to  an  ordinary'  dine 
belter  for  twelve  pence  than  he  thai  goes  to  a 
taveni  for  his  five  sliillings  ;  and  I  think  thoe 


the  b 


t  wits  that 


1  save  four  shillings,  and  fare 


Mis.  Low.    Wliat  b 


With  old  sir  Oliv 


t  the  longer  then. 


r  lately 


LIKE  A  wouan's.  73 

Mis.  Low.  Is  slie  come  ? — ■  [Mside. 

Whatis  thai  lady? 

Sen.  A  good  gentlewoman, 
Has  been  long  prisoner  with  the  enemy. 

Mis.  Low.  I  know't  too  well,  and  joy  in  her  re- 
lease.— [_Ati<te. 
Go  to  that  house  then  straight,  and  in  one  labour 
You  may  bid  them,  and  entreat  home  that  scholar. 

Seb.  It  shall  be  done  with  speed,  sir.  [Exit. 

Pick.  I'll  along  with  you,  and  see  what  face  that 
scholar  has  brought  over;  a  thin  pair  of  parbreak- 
ingi  8ca-water  green  chops,  I  warrant  you.     [Exit. 

Mis.  Low.  Since  wit  has  pleasur'd  me,  I'll  plea- 
Scholars  shall  fare  the  better.     O  my  blessing ! 
I  feel  a  hand  of  mercy  lift  me  up 
Out  of  a  world  of  waters,  and  now  sets  me 
Upon  a  mountain,  where  the  sun  plays  most. 
To  cheer  my  heart  even  as  it  dries  my  limbs. 
What  deeps  1  see  beneath  me,  in  whose  falls 
Many  a  nimble  mortal  toils, 

And  scarce  can  feed'  himself!  the  streams  of  fortune, 
'Gainst  which  he  tugs  in  vain,  still  beat  him  ^ovia, 
And  will  not  suffer  him — past  hand  to  mouth — 
To  lift  his  arm  to  his  posterity's  blessing  : 
I  see  a  careful  sweat  run  in  a  ring 
About  his  temples,  but  all  will  not  do; 
For,  till  some  happy  means  relieve  his  stale, 
There  he  must  stick,  and  bide  the  wrath  of  fate. 
I  see  this  wrath  upon  an  uphill  land ; 
0  blest  are  they  can  see  their  falls  and  stand ! 

Itc-enier  Servant,  sheming  in  Bkveril. 
How  now  ? 

4  IHirbrttkiag']  i.  e.  Tomitiag. — Old  ed.  "  Barbreaking." 

^Jted]  A  frieod  conjeetures"fleef'— i.e.  float;  but  not- 
witbiianding  ibe  confusion  of  metapban,  I  believe  that  [be 


74  so  WIT,  KO  HELP 

SsK.  With  much  cDtrcating,  sir,  he'a  como.  [£xif. 

Mis.  Low.  Sir,  you're — my  brother!  joys  come 
thick  togelhcr. —  [_A$idt. 

Sir,  when  I  see  n  scholar — pardon  me — 
I  am  so  taken  with  afTection'  for  him, 
That  I  must  run  into  hia  arms  and  clasp  him. 

f^Embraeing  Km. 

Bev.  Art  standi  in  need,  sir,  of  such  cherisheni 
I  meet  loo  fe^v  :  'twere  a  brave  world  for  scholars. 
If  lialfa  kingdom  were  but  of  your  mind,  sir; 
Let  ignoranco  and  hell  confound  the  rest. 

Mis.  Low.  Lei  it  suffice,'  sweet  sir,  you  cannot 
think 
How  dearly  you  are  welcome. 

Bev.  May  I  live 
To  shew  you  Bervice  for't! 

Mis.  Low.  Your  love,  your  love,  sir; 
We  g;o  no  higher,  nur  shall  you  go  lower. 
Sir,  I  am  bold  to  send  for  you,  to  request 
A  kindness  from  your  wit,  for  some  device 
To  grace  our  wedding  ;  it  ahull  be  wortli  your  pains. 
And  something  more  t'  express  my  love  to  art ; 
You  shall  not  receive  all  in  bare  embracements. 

Bev.  Yourlovel  thank;  bu(,pray,  sir,  pardon  me, 
I've  a  heart  says  1  must  not  grant  you  that. 

Mis.  Low.  No!  what's  your  reason,  sir? 

Bev.  I'm  not  at  peace 
With  the  lady  of  this  house  ;  now  you'll  excuse  me  ; 
Sh'as  wrong'd  my  sister ;  and  I  may  not  do't. 

MiB.  Low.  The  widow  knows  you  not. 

Bev.  1  never  saw  her  face  to  my  remembrance : 
O  that  my  heart  should  feel  her  wrongs  so  much. 
And  yet  live  ignorant  of  the  injurer! 

Mis.  Low.  Let  me  persuade  tliee,  since  she  knows 
you  not, 

'  n/ff(i™]  Old  ei.  "  nffliction." 
*  jH^«]  Old  ci.  ••  .uffcr." 


LIKE  A  WOMAN  S.  7^ 

Make  dear  the  weather,  let  not  griefs  betray  you ; 
I'll  tell  her  you're  a  worthy  friend  of  mine, 
And  BO  I  tell  her  true,  thou  art  indeed. 
Sir,  here  she  comes. 

Re-enter  Lady  Goldenflgece. 
L,  Gold.  What,  are  you  busy,  • 


Mis.  Low.  Nothing  less,  lady ;  her 


I 


Of  noble  parts,  beside  his  friendship  to  me  ; 
Pray,  give  him  liberal  welcome. 
L.  Gold.  He's  most  welcome. 

IS.  Low.  The  virtues  of  his  mind  wilt  deserve 
largely. 
L.  Gold.  Methiaka  his  outward  parts  deserve  as 
much  then ; 
A  proper'  gentleman  it  is.  \^Atide. 

Mis,  Low.  Come,  worthy  sir. 
Bev.  I  follow. 

\^Eteunt  L,  Goldenfleece  and  Mis.  Low-water. 
Check  thy  blood, 
For  fear  it  prove  loo  bold  to  wrong  thy  goodness  ; 
A  wise  man  makes  ad'ections  but  his  slaves; 
Break  'em  in  time,  let  'em  not  master  thee. 
O,  'tis  my  sister's  enemy!  think  of  that: 
Some  speedy  grief  fall  down  upon  the  fire. 
Before  it  take  my  heart;  let  it  not  rise 
'Giainst    brotherly    nature,    judgment,    and    these 

wrongs. 
Make  clear  the  weather  1° 
O  who  could  look  upon  her  face  in  storms  ! 
Yet  pains  may  work  it  out;  griefs  do  but  strive 
To  kill  this  spark,  I'll  keep  it  still  alive.         \_Eiit. 

'  pn^er"]  \.  e.  hiindsDinG. 

"  Mait  cltur  the  unalhir]  Tlie  words  of  miatreaa  LoW'water 
to  Beveril :  lee  stioTe. 


KD  Wll,  HO  BELP 


ACT  III.'    SCENE  I. 

Btfore  Lady  Goloenfleece's  houie. 

Enter  Wbatheuwise,  Peppertok,  Ovebdoke,  and 

SiB  Gilbert  Laubstoke. 

Wea.    Faith,   sir  Gilbert,   forget  and   forgive ; 

there's  all  our  hands  to  a  new  bargain  offriend- 

Pep.  Ay,  and  all  our  hearts  to  boot,  sir  Gilbert. 

Wea.  Why,  la,  you,  there's  but  four  suitors  left 
on's  in  all  the  world,  and  the  fifth  has  the  widow; 
if  we  should  not  be  kind  to  one  another,  and  so 
i'faiih,  I  would  we  were  all  raked  up  in 


e  hole 


r  other 


SiK  G.  Lamb.  Pardon  me,  gentlemen;  I  cannot 
but  remember 
Your  late  disgraceful  words  before  the  widow, 
In  time  of  my  oppression. 

Wea.  Pooh,  Saturn  reigned  then,  a  melancholy, 
grumbling  planet ;  he  was  in  ihe  third  house  of 
privy  enemies,  and  would  have  bewrayed"  all  our 
plots  ;  beside,  there  was  a  6ery  conjunction  in  the 
Dragon's  tail,''  that  spoiled  all  that  e'er  we  went 

Sir  G.  Laub.  Dragon  or  devil,  somewhat  'twas, 


Wea. 

Why, 

I  tell  you,  si 

Gilbert,  we  were 

all 

out  of  0 

n't;   I  was  so 

mad  at  that  time 

iiy- 

self,  I  could  h 

ve  wished  a 

hind  quarter  of 

my 

liuil  ou 

of  yo 

ir  belly  again 

,  whereas  now  I  c 

I  am  not  rcapon«ible  (a»  in  some  olher  of  Mid- 
as) for  ihe  divUioQ  of  ihu  pis;  inlo  acli ;  which 
:cuuDt  of  lliu  camparalive  thonaeis  of  the  pre- 


not  if  yoii  had  eat  tail  and  all ;  I  am  no  niggard  in 
the  nay  of  friendship ;  I  was  ever  yet  at  full  moon 
in  good  fellowship;  and  so  you  shall  fiod,  if  you 
look  into  the  almanac  of  my  true  nature, 

SiK  G.  La«b.  Well,  all's  forgiven  for  once ;  hands 
a-pace,  gentlemen. 

Wea,  Ye  shall  have  two  of  mine  to  do  you  a 
kindness  ;  yet,  when  they're  both  abroad,  who  shall 
look  to  th'  house  here? 

[Giving  hit  hands  to  Sir  G.  Laubstone. 

Over  I  ^"^^  ""^^  ^  "^™  f'"'*"''^'''?'  *""  *  friend. 
{^Giving  their  hands  to  Sir  G,  Lambstone. 

SirG.Lamb.  But  upon  this  condition,  gentlemen, 
You  shall  hear  now  a  thing  worth  your  revenge. 

Wea.  And"  you  doubt  that. 
You  shall  have  mine  beforehand,  I've  one 
I  never  go  without  a  black  oath  about  me. 

SieG.Lamb.  I  know  the  least  touch  of  a  spur 
in  this 
Will  now  put  your  desires  to  a  false  gallop, 
By  all  means  slanderous  in  every  place, 
And  in  all  companies,  to  disgrace  the  widow  ; 
No  matter  in  what  rank,  so  it  be  spiteful 
And  worthy  your  revenges  :  so  now  I ; 
It  shall  be  all  my  study,  care,  and  pains ; 
And  we  can  lose  no  labour ;  all  her  foes 
Will  make  such  use  on't,  that  they'll  snatch  it  from 

Faster  than  we  can  forge  it,  though  n-e  keep 
Four  tongues  at  work  upon't,  and  never  cease. 
Then  for  th'  indiflerent  world,  faith,  they  are  apter 
To  bid  a  slander*  welcome  than  a  truth. 


.ady; 


•  AHd-\ 


r.lA! 


rehend,  ■» 


We  have  the  odds  of  our  side:  this  in  time 
May  grow  so  general,  as  disgrace  will  spread. 
That  wild  dissension  may  divide  the  bed. 

J',;;JExccllen.l 

Over.  A  pure  revenge!  1  see  no  dregi  in't. 

Sir  G.  Lamb.  Let  each  man  look  to  his  part  now, 
and  not  feed 
Upon  one  dish  all  four  on's,  like  plain  maltmen  ; 
For  at  ihis  feast  we  must  have  several  kickshaws 
And  delicate-msde  dishes,  that  ihe  world 
May  see  it  is  a  banquet  finely  fumish'd. 

Wba.  Why,  then,  let  me  alone  for  one  of  your 
kickshaws, 
I've  thought  on  that  already. 

Sir  G.  L\MB.  I'riihee,  how,  sir? 

W£A.  Marry,  sir,  I'll  give  it  out  abroad  that  I 
have  lain  with  the  widow  myself,  as  'tis  the  fashion 
of  many  a  gallant  to  disgrace  his  new  mistress 
when  he  cannot  have  his  will  of  her,  and  lie  with 
her  name  in  every  tavern,  though  he  ne'er  came 
within  a  yard  of  her  person ;  sn  I,  being  a  gentle- 
man, may  say  as  much  in  that  kind  as  a  gallant;  I 
am  as  free  by  my  frither's  copy. 

SiH  G.  Lamb.  This  will  do  excellent,  sir. 

Wea.  And,  moreover,  I'll  give  the  world  thus 
much  to  understand  beside,  that  if  I  had  not  lain 
with  the  widow  in  the  wane  of  the  moon,  at  one  of 
my  Seven  Stars'  houses,  when  Venus  was  about 
business  of  her  own,  and  could  give  no  attendance, 
she  had  been  brouj^ht  a-bcd  with  two  roaring  boys 
hy  this  time;  and  the  Gemini  1)eing  infants,  I'd 
have  made  away  with  them  like  a  step-mother,  and 
put  mine  own  boys  in  their  places. 

SirG.  Lau.  Why,  this  is  beyond  talk;  you  out- 
run your  master. 


IKE  A  VbitKV's.  70 

Enter  PicKADiLL. 
Pick.  Whoop!  draw  home  next  time;  here  aJe* 
all  the  old  shooters  that  have  lost  the  ganie  at 
pricks  !  What  a  fair  mark  had  sir  Gilbert  on't,  if 
he  had  shot  home  before  the  last  arrow  came  in  I 
mcthinks  these  shew  to  me  now,  far  all  the  world, 
like  so  many  lousy  beggars  turned  out  of  my  lady's 
barn,  and  have  ne'er  a  hole  to  put  their  heads  in. 

Wea.  Mass,  here's  her  ladyship's  ass ;  he  tells 

us  any  thing. 
Sir  G.  Lamb.  Ho,  Pickadill ! 
Pick.  What,  sir  Gilbert  Lambstone  ! 
Gentlemen,  outlaws  all,  how  do  you  do  ? 

Sir  G.  Lamb.  How  !  what  dost  call  us  !  how  goes 
the  world  at  home,  lad  ? 
What  strange  news  ? 

Pick.  This  is  the  state  of  prodigals  as  right  as 
can  be  ;  when  they  have  spent  all  their  means  od 
;  feasts,  they're  glad  to  scrape  to  a  serving- 


flfora 


;al's 


I 


Ho  you  that  whilom,*  like  four  prodigal  rivals. 
Could  goose  or  capon,  crane  or  woodcock  choose, 
Now're  glad  to  make  up  a  poor  meal  with  news ; 
A  lamentable  hearing  1 

Wea.  He's  in  passions' 
Up  to  the  eyebrows  for  us. 

Pick.  O  master  Weatherwise,  I  blame  none  but 


You're  a  gentlen 


1  deeply  r 


1  Pond's  Aim 


■  whilirm']  i.  c.  once,  formerly.  '  pauianl  i.  e.  grief. 

■  FeniTi  Jliaanac]  The  falJowing  i«  the  title  uf  the  eartieal 
Pond'i  Almanac  I  have  met  «i(b.  —  "  PonHi.  1607.  A  Prt- 
lldtnt  /or  PrcgRBIIicalori.  A  twin  Altaanarke  fat  llih  preirnt 
geare  of  our  Lord  God  M.DCf'lI.  Bting  the  third  nfUr  Ltafa 


80  KO  WIT,  no  HBLF 

Methink«  yoa  should  not  b«  inch  m  dullotr  frllow  ; 
yV<  knew   [hit  day.  the  twelfUi  ot  iaae,  would 

WheD  ihe  bud  enicn  inio  (he  Crab'*  rooio, 
And  all  your  hopes  would  go  aside,  aaide. 

WsA.  The  fool  aays  true,  i'fajth, 
knew  'twould  come  all  to  ifaia  pais ;  I'll  thew*i  jou 
preseatly.  [  Taktt  out  almanac. 

Pick.  If  you  hod  ipai'd  but  four  of  your  Twelve 

You  might  have  gone  to  a  tavern  and  msde  merry 

with  'em. 
Wea.   Has  the  best  moral  meaning  of  an  sss  that 
e'er  I  beard  speak  with  ton^tue, — I..ook  you  here, 
gentlemen  [read*  alnuiiuic'].  Fifth  Jay,'  neither  JUk 
luirJUth. 

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

again. 
Wea.  [r«M(»]  Sixth  day,  prkily  pretenled. 
Pick.  Marry,  faugli  I 

Wea.  [readt]  Seventh  day,  ihnmk  in  the  iteltmg. 
Pick.  Nay,  so  will  the  best  ware  bought  for  love 

or  money. 
Wea.  [rcadt'j   The  eiffhih  day,  over  head  and  eart. 
Pick.  By  my  faith,  lie  come[B]  home  in  a  sweet 

pickle  then! 
Wea.  [rcadt]  The  ninth  day,  scarce  iouhH  at  heart. 
Pick.  What  a  pox  ailed  it  7 
Wea.  [readi]   Tlie  tenth  day,  a  courtier's  teeleome. 
Pick.  That's  a  cup  of  beer,  and"  you  can  gel  JL 

gfare.  Calculatid  for  thi  LalUudc  nnJ  Mrridian  of  Iht  ^undent 
,hin  tMmi  ^  Eutx  lallfd  Chilme./ard  ,■  .Ind  pfnerallg  for  aU 
gnat  Britaita,  atnpl^d  loilk  ntw  nddilim,  Bg  Edwaril  Paid  .- 
prartielmitr  in  lie  MalhmuUielctf  ^  Pkiiick.  ImprinUd  Hi  Ion- 
am  for  (»f  Cempans  of  Slaliontri." 

•  Fifili  daf,  iic]  Compare  vol.  iti.  p.  £37,  and  p.  ISofthU 
volume.  ■  oikf]  i.e.  if. 


Wea.  [reads]  The  eleventh  day,  stone*  against  the 

Pick.  Pox  of  an  ass  !  be  might  have  thrown  'em 

better. 
WnA.  Now  the  tweljlh  day,  gentlemen,  that  was 
our  day ;  [Reads. 

Past  all  Tedeviptiiin. 

Pick.  Then  the  devil  go  witb't! 
Wea.  Now  you  aee  plainly,  gentlemen,  how  we're 
us'd; 
The  calendar  will  not  lie  for  no  man's  pleasure. 
Sir  G.  Lamb.  Push,"  you're  too  confident  in  al- 

Pep.  Faith,  so  said  we. 

SiH  G.  Lamb.  They're  mere  delusions. 

Wea.  How! 
Yon  see  how  knavishly  they  happen,  sir. 

Sir  G.  Lamb.  Ay,  that's  because  they're  foolishly 
believ'd,^  sir. 

Wea,  Well,  take  your  courses,  gentlemen,  with- 
out 'em,  and  see  what  will  come  on't:  you  may 
wander  like  masterless  men,  there's  ne'er  a  planet 
will  care  a  halfpenny  for  you ;  if  they  look  after 
you,  I'll  be  hanged,  when  you  acorn  to  bestow  two- 
peace  to  look  alWr  them. 

Sib  G.  Laub.  Howl  a  device  at  the  wedding, 
Bayest  thou  ? 

Pick.  Why,  have  none  of  you  heard  of  that  yet? 

Sir  G.  Lahb.  'Tis  the  Rrst  news,  i  faith,  lad. 

Pick.  O,  there's  a  brave  travelling  scholar  en- 
tertained into  the  house  a'  purpose,  one  that  has 
been  all  the  world  over,  and  some  part  of  Jeru- 
■alem;  has  his  chamber,  his  diet,  and  three  candles" 
allowed  him  after  supper. 


aiiJifj]  Qy.  ■■ 


Wba.  By  my  faiih,  )ie  need  not  complain  for 
victuals  tlicn,  wliale'er  he  he. 

Pick.  He  lie*  in  one  of  the  best  chambers  i'  ib' 
house,  bravely  mutteil ;  and  to  warm  his  nits  aj 
much,  a  cup  of  sack  and  an  aqtia  pita'  bottle  stand' 
just  at  his  elbow. 

Wea.  He's  shrewdly  hurt,  by  roy  faith;  if  he 
catch  an  ague  uf  that  fashion,  I'll  be  hanged. 

Pick.  He'll  come  abroad  anon. 

Sir  G.Lamb.  Art  aureon't? 

Pick.  Why,  he  ne'er  stays  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
ID  the  house  together. 

.Sib  G.  Lamb,  No  1  how  can  he  study  then  7 

Pick.  Faugh,  best  of  all ;  he  talks  as  he  goes,  and 
writes  as  he  runs;  besides,  you  know  'tis  death  to 
a  traveller  to  stand  long  in  one  place. 

Sir(i.  Lahb.  It  may  hit  right,  boys! — Honest 
Pickadill, 
Thou  wast  wont  lo  love  me. 

Pick.   I'd  good  cause,  air,  then. 

Sir  G.  Laud.  Thou  shall  have  the  same  still; 
take  that.  [Giving  monet/. 

Pick.  Will  you  believe  me  now?  I  ne'er  loved 
you  better  in  my  life  than  I  do  at  this  present. 

SiaG.  Lams.  Tell  me  now  truly;   who  are  the 
presenters  ? 
What  parsons^  are  employ'd  i 

Pick.  Parsons  ?  not  any,  a 
not  be  at  the  charge ;  she  k 
Welsh  vicar. 

Sir  G.  Lamb.  Prithee,  I 
speakers  1 

Pick.  Troth,  I  ki 


my  mistress  will 
none  but  an  old 


who   be    the 


i  but  those  that  open 

'  ofua  vitir]  See  mile,  vol.  iii.  p.  239. 

'  iland]  Uld  ed.  "  itancb." 

■  ^arion>]  So  old  ed. :  Gompu'G  vol.  iii,  p.  77i  ^"i  note. 


their  mouths.     Here  he  comes  no 

w  himself,  you 

may  ask  him, 

Enter  BEVEnit. 

Wea.  Is  this  he?  by  my  failh. 

ne  may  pick  a 

gentleman  out  of  his  calvea  and  a  s 

cholar  out  on's 

cheeks;  one  may  see  hy  hia  looks 

what's  in  him : 

I  warrant  you  there  has  ne'er  a  new 

alinaDBC  come 

out  these  dozeo  years,  but  ho  has 

studied  it  over 

and  over. 

\_Aside. 

Sib  G.  Lamb.  Do  not  reveal  us  n 

IV. 

Pick.  Because  you  shall  be  sure 

on't,  vou  have 

given  me  a  ninepence  here,  and  I'll  give  you  the 

SirG.  Lamb.  Well  said.  {Exit  Pick  a  dill.]— Now 

the  fool's  pleas'd,  we  may  be  bold, 
Bev.  Love  is  as  great  an  enemy  to  wit 
As  ignorance  to  art ;  I  find  my  powers 
So  much  employ'd  in  business  of  my  heart. 
That  all  the  time's  too  little  to  despatch 
Aifaira  within  me.     Fortune,  too  remiss, 
I  suffer  for  thy  slowness :  had  I  come 
Before  a  vow  had  chain'd  their  souls  together. 
There  might  have  been  some  hope,  though  ne'er  so 

little; 
Now  there's  no  spark  at  all,  nor  e'er  can  be, 
But  dreadful  ones  struck  from  adultery  ; 
And  if  my  lust  were  smolher'd  with  her  will, 
O,  who  could  wrong  a  gentleman  so  kind, 
A  stranger  made  up  with  a  brother's  mind!  \_Aiidt. 
SiB  G.Lamb,  Peace,  peace,  enough  ;  let  me  alone 
to  manage  it. — 
A  quick  invention,  and  a  happy  one. 
Reward  your  study,  sir  ! 

Bev.  Gentlemen,  I  thank  you. 

<■  iUp\  See  n«ic,  vol.  ii.  p.  417. 


4 


SiH  G.Lamb.   We  undersiand  your  wits  are  in 
employment,  sir. 
In  Iionour  of  this  wedding, 
Bev.  Sir,  Ihi-  gentleman 
To  whom  that  worthy  lady  ii  bctroth'd 
Voucbsares  t'  accept  the  power  of  my  good  will 
in't. 
SiK  G.Lamb.  I  pray,  resolve'  us  then,  sir — fox 

That  loTe  and  honour  her — 

Whether  your  number  be  yet  full,  or  no. 

Of  those  which  you  make  choice  of  for  presenters  ! 

Bev.  First,  'tis  so  bri^f,  because  the  time  is  so, 
We  shall  not  trouble  many  ;  and  for  those 
We  shall  employ,  the  house  will  yield  in  servanli. 

SisG.  Laub.  Nay,  then,  under  your  leave  and 
favour,  air. 
Since  all  your  pains  will  be  bo  weakly  grac'd. 
And,  wanting  due  performance,  lose  their  lustre. 
Here  are  four  of  us  gentlemen,  her  friends, 
Both  lovers  of  her  honour  and  your  art. 
That  would  be  glad  so  to  express  ourselves. 
And  think  our  service  well  and  worthily  plac'd. 

Bev.  My  thanks  do  me  no  grace  for  this  lai^e 
kindness ; 
You  make  my  labours  proud  of  such  presenters. 

Sir  G.  Lamb.  She  shall  not  think,  sir,  she's  so  ill 
belov'd, 
But  friends  can  quickly  make  that  number  perfect. 

Bev.  She's  bound  t'  acknowledge  it. 

Sir  G.  Lamb.  Only  thus  much,  sir, 
Which  will  amaze  her  most ;  I'd  have't  so  earriecl, 
As  you  can  do't,  that  neither  she  nor  none 
Should  know  what  friends  we  were  till  all  were 

'  rutin]  See  nou,  p.  S2. 


Wea.  Ay,  that  would  make  ttie  sport! 

Bcv.   Ilikeit  well,  sir: 
My  hand  and  faith  amongst  you,  geatlemen, 
It  shall  be  so  diapos'd  of. 

Sia  G.Lamb.  We're  the  men  then. 

B£V.  Then  look  you,  gentlemen;  the  device  is 

NakeJ,  and  plain,  because  the  time's  so  short, 
And  gives  no  freedom  lo  a  wealthier  sport ; 
Tis  only,  gentlemen,  the  four  elements 
In  liveliest  forma.  Earth,  Water,  Air,  and  Fire. 

Wea.  Mass,  and  here's  four  of  us  too. 

Bey.  It  fits  well,  sir: 
This  the  effect, — thai  whereas  all  those  four 
Maintain  a  natural  opposition 
And  untrue'd  war  ibe  one  against  the  other. 
To  shame  their  ancient  envitis,  tlicy  should  see 
How  well  in  two  breasts  all  these  do  agree. 

Wea.  That's  in  the  bride  and  bridegroom ;  1  inn 
quick,  sir. 

Sir  G.  Lamb.  In  faith,  it's  pretty,  sir ;  I  approve 
it  well. 

Bev.  But  see  how  soon  my  happiness  and  yonr 
kindness 
Are'  crosl  together! 

Sir  G.  Laub.  Crost  7  1  hope  not  so,  sir. 

Bev.  I  can  employ  but  two  of  you. 

Pbp.  How  comes  that,  sir  ? 

Bbv.  Air  and  the  Fire  should  be  by  tne[n]  pre- 
sented. 
But  the  two  other  in  the  forms  of  women. 

Wea.  Nay,  then,  we're  gone  again ;  I  think  these 


Were  made  U 


luble  u 


n  all  shapes. 


Sn  G.  Lams-  TmA,  mx,  -««•  «■■! 

BsT.  \H,  «kM  «•  «x  1     i  k  av  As 

better 
Sm  or««  vnn,  «kM  A*  «»  «;«>^ '^b; 
BatWafcr iilj  ^wMfc,»  ii 

lua  btt :  W  «w  «M||te  »  W  B  ^  MM.  «ln 
1m  cot  hi*  mfc  «i*  cUi  b«AM  W -M  ^nkd. 

Wba.  Bm  ■•■  I  CMC  M  jmm%,  ^d*  ««■  m  w 
ibat.w:  1 ««  M  i««M  *<B  Wc  Fv<  Ml  Tnr 

■bouM  rtiM>g»  ilMfcs  mA  gB^Hk. 
BtT.  K«w  ■>•««  7««  Am,  «ir ! 

be  aBMn,  h<cMwi  Rw  ■  w^—rfy  to— m  Whaft 

Bev.  So,  ur;  ;<hi  Hgac  «■& 

Wka.  Nay,  SMn,  air;  mmk  ■>  kvk  is  M  « 
little  crciin,  ao  viU  a  bh^  if  h>  W  ■■>  kcfi  •■£; 
wRtcr  nil)  nntlenMC,  m  «i>  as  Mbcvo:  ■■tn 
will  rhti  Bnil  flow,  so  mOI  a  gmiiamm ;  «am  «a 
■carch  any  plan,  aad  ao  wiU  a  cManUa^  aa  IbmIj 
he  ilid  nt  my  Scvm  S«an  Car  a  jOMg  «taA  that 
WD*  itolci ;  water  nil)  qnmcb  fin.  aad  w  wiB  Wh 
till"  barlier ;  ergv,  ki  Wale*  "Mr  a  eodpitce-poou. 

Iluv.  I'nilh,  iieittlenwn.  1  like  imu  cooapoa;  kcIL 

Wk*.  Ifft'i  irtt  "holl  ilitpuie  <ritli  me  at  (be  (bH 
o'  llio  ii)oon ! 

Hkv.  No,»iri  and*  youbt  wiB-gionwB»ofyo«T 
tuloni,  I'll  put  you  to't  once  noce. 

W»A.  I'm  for  you,  »ir.  a*  long  as  ibe  aaooB  kcepB 
in  ihii  nu«rter.  ^ 

Dev.  Well,  liow  answer  you  this  tbenT  8«rth  and 

I  nlrtly]  I.  e,  ■onipulowly.  »  "J]  i.*.il 


i 


r 

■        water  are  both  1 


I 


LIKE  A  WOUA^f  B. 


both  bearers,  therefore  tbey  should  be 

Wea.  Why,  so  are  porters  and  pedlars,  and  yet 
they  are  known  to  be  inen. 

Bev.  I'll  give  you  over  in  time,  sir ;  I  sliall  re- 
pent the  beatowing  on't  else. 

Wea.  Ifl,  that  have  proceeded' in  five-and-twenty 
such  books  of  astronomy,  should  not  be  able  lo  put 
down  a  scholar  now  in  one  thousand  six  hundred 
thirty  and  eight,  the  dominical  letter  being  G,  I 
Blood  for  a  goose. 

Sir  G.  Lajib.  Then  this  will  satisfy  you ;  though 
that  be  a  woman, 
Oceanus  the  sea,  that's  chief  of  waters. 
He  wears  the  form  of  a  man,  and  so  may  you. 

Bev.  Now  1  bear  reason,  and  I  may  consent. 

Sir  G.Lamb.  And  so,  though  earth  challenge  a 
feminine  face. 
The  matter  of  which  earth  consists,  that's  dust. 
The  general  soul  of  earth  is  of  both  kinds. 

Bev,  Fit  yourselves,  gentlemen,  I've  enough  for 
me; 
Earth,  Water,  Air,  and  Fire,  part  'em  amongst  you. 

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

BOD. 

Bev.  Ay,  but  this  Air  never  possess'd  the  lands. 

Wea.  I'm  but  disposed  to  jest  with  you,  sir ;  'tis 
the  same  my  almanac  speaks  on,  is't  not  ? 

Bev.  That  'tis,  sir. 

Wea.  Then  leave  it  to  my  discretion,  to  fit  both 
the  part  and  the  person. 

Bev.  You  shall  have  your  desire,  air. 

Sir  G.  Lamb.  We'll  agree 

^  proretded']  A  UDivertity  lenn:  compare  vol.  iv.  p.  6S, and 

'  Jir]  Old  ed.  "  fair." 


88  HO  WIT.  XO  BBLP 

Without  your  trouble  now,  sir;  we're  not  factions. 
Or  CDvy  one  another  for  best  parta, 
Like  quarrelling  actors  that  have  passionate  fits; 
We  submit  always  to  the  writer's  wits. 

Bev.  He  that  commenilB  you  may  do'i  liberally. 
For  you  deserve  as  much  as  praise  can  shew. 

Sin  G.  LiMR.   We'll  send  lo  you  privately. 

Bet.  I'll  despatch  you. 

SiK  G.  Lamb.  We'll  poison  your  device. 

[j^sidr,  and  cmI. 

Pep.  She  must  have  pleasures, 
Shows,  and  conceits,  and  we  diigracefVil  doom. 

{_A*ide,  and  eiil. 

Wea.  We'll  make  your  Elements  come  limping 
home.  'iAnde,  and  eiil, 

Bev.  How  happy  am  I  in  this  unlook'd-for  grace. 
This  voluntary  kindness,  from  these  gentlemen  ! 

Enter  behind  MlSTKCas  Low-water  and  Low-wjter, 

holh  duguited  a*  before. 
'Twill  set  olTall  my  labours  far  more  pleasing 
Before  the  widow,  whom  my  heart  calls  mistress. 
But  my  tongue  dares  not  second  it. 

Low.  How  say  you  now,  Kate  f 

Mis.  Low.  I  like  this  music  well.  sir. 

Bet.  O  unfortunate ! 
Yet  though  a  tree  be  guarded  from  my  touch. 
There's  none  C3n  hinder  me  to  love  the  fruii. 

Mis.  Ijow.  Nay,  now  we  know  your  mind,  brother, 
well  proTide  for  you. 

{Exeunt  Mistress  Low-water  and  I.ow-WATBa. 

Bet.  O  were  it  hut  as  free  as  late  times  knew  it, 
I  would  deserve,  if  all  life's  wealth  could  do  it ! 

lExit. 


ACT  IV.    SCENE  I. 

A  room  in  Sm  Olivbk  Twilight's  Iiovk. 

Enter  Sir  Oiiver  Twilight,  Laov  Twilight,  Sun- 
set. Sandfielp,  Dutch  Merchant,  Philip  Twi- 
light, Servants,  and  Savoubwit  aloof  off." 

SiitO.  Twi.  O  my  revifiug  joy!  thy  qmckenin^ 
ptegence 
Makes  tlie  sad  night  of  threescore  and  ten  years 
Sit  like  a  yoiilliful  spring  upon  my  blood  : 
1  cannot  make  thy  welcome  rich  enough 
With  all  the  wealth  of  words .' 

L.  Twi.  It  is  expresi  sir. 
With  more  than  can  be  eqiiatl'd  ;  the  ill  store 

g  only  on  my  aide,  my  thanks  are  poor. 


Sib  O.  Twi.  Blest  be  the 

fore 


of  his  I 


ml 


That  did  redeem  thy  life,  may  it  return 

Upon  his  fortunes  double !  that  worthy  gentleman, 

Kind  master  Beveril !  shower  upon  him,  heaven, 

Some  unexpected  happiness  to  requite  him 

For  that  my  joy"  unlook'd  for !     O,  more  kind, 

And  juster  far,  is  a  mere  stranger's  goodness 

"Than  the  sophistic  faith  of  natural  sons  ! 

Here's  one  coald  juggle  with  me,  take  up  the  ran- 

He  and  his  loose  companion 

Sav,  Say  you  me  so,  sir  ? 
111  eat  hard  eggs  for  that  trick.  IMidv. 

Sir  O,  Twi.  Spend  the  money. 
And  bring  me  home  false  news  and  empty  pockets  '. 


,W»/]  Co 
ay]  Old  ed. 


Compare  vols,  i,  p.  427;  iiL  p.  40,  and  nolei 


L.  T«i.  Fm.  Ik  ■*  aov  yM  haaw  a*  jM  pn 

L.  T«i.  Sm  amm.  wk,  ym  ma^  h^  mv  fefaa 

Br«  it  cmAuMi  tiA  Wa»  Amt  «  ycior. 

Tfctgww>riwMwi«f  JAatiMUi  mrtmJt 

For  bene  mMvW  fe  aC  I  m  i>i^i  4n^ 

Phu.  On  M>T  UA  ■•«  W  nfaa  MB  &««H.  nr  1 


Ii*!  wortltjr  i»  W  D 
Sat.  No,  bj  b^  omK  at  aM. 

CV«A. 
Sim0.1Vi.  Wdt  dr,  I  — «  l    f     yaa'w  fcw 


bJf-«m  ^  j«M  » the  ■ 


And  ■  ^ 

8av.  Now'railbJf-wm^jmMtheginlfe, 
But  the  •nmt  |Mn's  >ihi«i.  [•'Mir. 

Sm  O.  Twi.  Marry,  I  ftar  M^  sir, 
Tl)i>  wrather  h  ton  i'  "    •   !>■- 

I..  T« 


ITyou  place  oonfidracc  ia  what  I't*  toM  joa. 

BinO.  Twi.    Nay,   'tis   clear  sky  oa   that  side; 
wotili)  'iwere  to 
All  over  hit  obedience!   I  see  that. 
And  BO  d(»e»  ihia  good  f^nilenuin 

I.. Twi.  Do  yon.  sir? 

8iH  U.  Twi.  That  makea  his  honesty  dovbtfal. 


L.  Twi.  I  pray,  speak,  sir ; 
The  truth  ofyour  last  kindness  makes  me  bold  with 

D.  Mer.  The  knight,  your  husband,  madam,  can 
best  speak ; 
He  ttueliest  can  shew  griefs  whose  heart  they  break. 
L.  Twi.   I'm  Borry  yet  for  more;  pray,  let  me 

That  I  may  help  to  chide  him,  though  'twould  grieve 

Sir  O.  Twi,  Why  then  prepare  for't ;  you  came 

In  tbe  best  time  to  do't  you  could  pick  otit : 
Not  only  spent  my  money,  but,  to  blind  me. 
He  and  his  wicked  instrument  — - 

Sav.  Now  he  fiddles  me  !  [Aiide. 

Sir  O.  Twi.  Brings  home  a  minion  here,  by  great 
chance  known ; 
Told  me  she  was  his  sister ;  she  proves  none. 

L.  Twi.  This  was  unkindly  done,  sir ;  now  I'm 

My  good  opinion  lost  itself  upon  you  ; 
You  are  not  the  same  son  I  left  behind  me. 
More  grace  took  him. — O,  let  me  end  in  time, 
For  fear  I  should  forget  myself,  and  chide  him ! — 
Where  is  [s]be,  sir  ?  though  he  beguil'd  your  eyes, 
He  cannot  deceive  mine,  we're  now  loo  hard  for 

For  since  out  first  unfortunate  separation 
I've  often  seen  the  girl — would  that  were  true! — 
[Atide. 
By  many  a  happy  accident,  many  a  one. 
But  never  durst  acknowledge  her  for  mine  own, 
And  therein  stood  my  joys  distress'd  again. 

Sir  O,  Twi,  You  rehearse  miseries,  wife. — Call 
the  maid  down.  lExit  Servant. 


t 


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

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

Inside. 
L.  Twi.   lie's  now  to  deal  with  one,  air,  that 
knows  truth ; 
He  must  be  sbani'd  or  quit,  there's  no  mean  saTes 

SiE  O.  Twi.  I  hear  her  come. 

L.  Twi.  [oiide  to  Vuil.'}  You  see  how  hard  'tis 

To  redeem  good  opinion,  being  once  gone; 
Be  careful  then,  and  keep  it  when  'tis  won. 
Now  Bee  me  take  a  poison  with  great  joy. 
Which,  but  for  ihy  sake,  1  should  swoon  to  touch. 

Enter  Grace. 
Gkaci.  What  new  affliction?  am  I  set  lo  sale 
For  any  one  that  bids  most  shame  for  me  ?    [^n'rfe. 
Sim O.  Twi.  Look  you?  do  you  see  what  stuff" 

they've  brought  me  home  here  ? 
L.  Twi.  O  bless  her,  eternal  powers !  my  life,  my 
comforts, 
My  nine  yenrt'  grief,  but  everlasting  joy  now  ! 
Thrice  welcome  to  my  heart!  [embracing  Grace] 
'til  she  indeed. 
Sib  0.  Twi.  What,  \a  hi 
Phil.  I'm  unlit  to  carry  a  ransom  ! 
Sav.  [ttiitk  lo  Gbace,  trho  kneeW]  Down  on  yout 
knees,  to  save  your  belly  harmless; 
Ask  blessing,  though  you  never  mean  to  use  it. 
But  give't  awny  presently  to  a  beggar-wench. 
Phil.  My  faith  is  blcmiah'd,  I'm  no  man  of  trust, 

»ilh  a  mother's 


dl'd^^ 


L.  Twi.  [raiting  Grace]    Rise 
blessing  I 


LIKE  A  woman's.  93 

Sav.  All  this  while 
Sh'as  rise  with  a  son's.  [Jside. 

Sir  O.  Twi.  But  aoft  ye,  soft  ye.  wife  ! 
I  pray,  take  heed  you  place  your  blessing  right 

This  honest  Dutchman  here  told  me  he  aaw  her 
Ac  Antwerp  in  an  inn. 

L.  Twi.  True,  she  was  so,  sir. 

D.  Meo.  Sir,  'tis  my  quality,  what  I  speak  once, 
I  affiriM  ever;  in  that  inn  I  saw  her; 
That  lets"  her  not  to  be  your  daughter  now. 

Sib  O.  Twi.  O  sir,  is'l  come  lo  that ! 

Sun.  Here's  joys  ne'er  dreamt  on  I 

Sir  O.  Twi.  O  master  Sunset,  1  am  at  the  rising 
Of  my  refulgent  happiness ! — Now,  son  Sandfield, 
Once  more  and  ever ! 

Sahd.  I  am  proud  on't,  sir. 

Sir  O.  Twi.  Pardon  me,  boy ;  I've  wrong'd  thy 
faith  too  much. 

Sat.  Now  may  I  leave  my  shell,  and  peep  my 
head  forth.  [/f«tr/e,  and  advanciTig. 

Sir  O.  Twi.  Where  is  this  Savourwit,  that  honest 
whorson, 


That  I  may  take  my  curs 
ders? 

Sav.  O,  sir,  I  feel  you 
Your  curse  is  ten  stone  w 

SihO.Twi.  Come,  tht 

Sav.  You  ^hall  still  find 


from  his  knave's  sboul- 

t  my  very  blade  here  ! 
ighl,  and  a  pound  over. 
I'rt  a  wiity  varlet  and  a 

e  a  poor,  faithful  fel- 


If  you've  another  ransom  to  send  over, 
Or  daughter  to  find  out. 

Sir  O.  Twi.  Ml  do  thee  right,  boy  ; 


KO  WIT,  NO  HELP 


I  ne'er  yet  knew  t)iee  but  speak  honest  English; 
Marry,  in  Dutch  1  found  thee  a  knave  lately. 

.  That  was  lo  hold  you  but  in  play  a  little. 


Till  farther  truths  came  o 
You   shall   ne'er    find   m 

tongue, 
I've  more  grace  in  me ;  I 
When  I  take  such 


,  and  I  strong  ; 
a  knave  in  mine  own 


out  of  England  still 
that  shews  modesty, 


Sir  O.  Twi.  Any  thing  full  of  wit  and  void  of 


;  so  was  that  now. 
I  c]uit,'  I  find  myself  the 


I  give  thee  pardoi 

Sav.  Faith,  now  I'm 
nimbler 

To  serve  you  so  again,  and  my  will's  good ; 
Like  one  that  lately  shook  off  his  old  irons, 
And  cuts  a  purse  at  bench  to  deserve  new  ones. 
SiK  O.  Twi.  Since  it  holds  all  the  way  so  for- 
tunate still. 
And  strikes  so  even  with  my  first  belief, 
This  is  the  gentleman,  wife,  young  master  Sandfield 

here, 
A  man  of  worthy  parts,  beside  his  lands. 
Whom  1  make  choice  of  for  my  daughter's  bed, 
Sav.  But  he'll  make  choice  there  of  another  bed- 
fellow, [^jirfe. 
L.  Twi.  I  wish  'em  both  the  happiness  of  love, 

SiaO.Twi.  'Twas  spoke  like  a  good  lady!  And** 
your  memory 
Can  reach  it,  wife — but  'tis  ao  long  ago  too  — 
Old  master  Sunset  he  had  a  young  daughter 
When  you  unluckily  left  England  s 


And  much  about  the  age  of  our  girl  tberfit 
For  both  were  nurs'd  together. 

L.Twi.  -Tis  BO  fresh 
In  my  remembrance,  now  you've  waken'd  it, 
As  if  twelve  years  were  but  a  twelve  hours'  dream. 

Sm  O.  Twi,  That  girl  is  now  a  proper'  gentle- 


J 


As  fin 

With 

Son 

a  body,  wife 
n  indenture  c 
0  say  not  so 

as  e'er  wa 
t  in  farthi 
,  air  Olive 

(ig  steaks. 
;  you  shall  pardon 

Ifoith,  sir'  you'-re  to 
SmO.  Twi.  Sings 

Touches  an  instrume 
Sun.  'Tis  your  ow 

blame. 

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

by. 

Sav.  There's  open  Dutch  indeed,  and'  he  could 
take  it-  \_Aiide. 

Sir  O.  Twi.  This  wench,  under  your  leave 

Sen.  You  have  my  love  in't. 
Sir  O.  Twi.  Is  my  son's  wife  that  shall  be. 
Sav.  Thus,  I'd  hold  wiib't. 
Is  your  son's  wife  that  should  be  master  SandReld's. 
[Atide. 
L.  Twi.  I  come  in  happy  time  to  a  feast  of  mar- 
riages. 
SiB  O.  Twi,  And  now  you  put's  i'  the  mind,  the 
hour  draws  on 
At  the  new-married  widow's,  there  we're  look'd 

for; 
There  will  be  entertainments,  sports,  and  banquets. 
There  these  young  lovers  shall  clap  hands  together; 
The  seed  of  one  feast  shall  bring  forth  another. 
Sun.  Well  said,  sir  Oliver! 


SikO.  Twi.  You're  a  Etranger,  sir : 
Your  welcome  will  be  best. 
D.  Meu.  Good  sir.  excuse  me. 
Sir  O.  Twi.  You  sliall  along,  faith  ; 

[^Extant  all  txeept  Laut  TtriLicuT,  Gbacc, 
Philip  TnlLiottT,  and  SAVOirnwiT. 
Phil.  O,  mother,  these  new  joja,  (hat  set'  my 
soul  up — 
Which  bad  no  means,  nor  any  hope  of  any  — 
Have  brought  me  now  so  far  in  debt  to  you, 
I  know  not  which  way  to  begin  to  thank  you ; 
I  am  so  lost  in  all,  I  cannot  guess 
Which  of  the  two  my  service  most  constrains. 
Your  last  kind  goodness,  or  your  first  dear  pains. 

L.Twi.  Love  is  a  mother's  duty  to  a  son, 
Ab  a  son's  duty  is  both  love  and  Tear. 

Sav.  1  owe  you  a  poor  life,  madam,  that's  all ; 
Pray,  call  for't  when  you  please,  it  shall  be  ready 


I  must  I 

J  BACK, 


forv 


L.T 

m.  'Make  m 

iich  on 

1,  sir,  till  then. 

Sav. 

If  butier'd  s 

aek  w 

11. 

L.T 

SI.  Methink 

then 

ore  I  look  upon  h 

he  mo 

re  thy  sister 

s  face 

runs  in  my  mind. 

Phil 

Belike  she 

s  Bom 

ewhat  like  her;  it 

he  better,  m 

adam. 

I..T 

til.  Was  Antwerp, 

say  you,  the  firs 

you  found  her 


[Atide. 


place 


Phil.  Yes,  madam  :  why  do  yon  ask  t 

L.  Twi.   Whose  daughter  were  you  1 

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

madam. 
Sav.  The  mother  of  her  was  a  good  twigger  the 

whilst.  \Atuie. 


■»d  ii: 


Lt  tine  but  aae  "  Hsi." 


LIKE  A  WOMAN  5. 


97 


L,  Twi.  No?  wiih  whom  were  youbrought  up  then  1 

Grace.  With  those,  madam, 
To  whom,  I've  often  heard,  the  enemy  sold  me. 

L.  Twi.  Whafs  that? 

Grace.  Too  often  have  I  heard  this  piteous  story. 
Of  a  distressed  mother  1  had  once. 
Whose  comfortahle  sight  1  lost  at  sea  ; 
But  then  the  years  of  childhood  took  from  me 
Both  the  remembrance  of  her  and  the  sorrows. 

L.  Twi,  0,  !  begin  to  feel  her  in  my  blood ! 
My  heart  leaps  to  be  at  her.  [Atidc.] — What  was 
that  mother? 

Gkace.  Some  said, an  English  lady;  but  I  know  tiot. 
,  What's  thy  name  ? 


L.Tw 

Grace 

L.Tw 

For  tho 


,  May  it  be  so  in  heaven, 

art  mine  on  earth !  welcome,  dear  child, 
Unto  thy  father's  house,  thy  mother's  arms, 
After  thy  foreign  sorrows!  [_Embracing  Gracu. 

Sav.  Twill  prove  gallant !  [Mide. 


L.Tw 


the. 


What 

joy  n 


t-work  [  I  bring 


Will  make  the  n 


t  shew  nothing,  'tis  so  glorioi 
:  not  possible,  madam,  that  n 


,   Why, 'tif 

Should  take  a  greater  height  than  mine  aspires. 

L.Twi,  No?  now  you  shall  confess  it:  this  shal 
quit  thee 
From  all  fears  present,  or  hereafter  doubts, 
About  this  business. 

Phil.  Give  me  that,  sweet  mother! 

L.  Twi.  Here,  lake  her  then,  and  set  thine  arm 


There  needs  no  'fection,' 
■  '/ecttiin]  So  old  ed. — a 


indeed  thy  s: 

olaffKlim 


HO                        HELP                                     ^^^1 

Phil.  My  siiter  !                                                                   \ 
Sav.  Cuds  me,  I  feel  the  raior !                  [Atitk.            \ 
L.Twi.  Why,  how  now,  ion?  how comei  a  change 

Phil.  0,  I  begecch  you,  mother,  wound  me  any 

But  where  you  pointed  last !  that's  present  death ; 

Devise  some  other  miaerHble  torment, 

Though  ne'er  so  pitiless,  and  I'll  run  and  meet  it ; 

Some  nay  more  merciful  let  your  goodness  think  on, 

May  steal  away  my  joys,  but  save  my  soul : 

I'll  willingly  restore  back  every  one, 

Upon  that  mild  condition;  any  thing 

But  what  you  spake  last  will  be  comfortable. 

L.Twi.  You're  troubled  with  strange  fits  in  Eng- 
land here ; 
Your  first  suit  to  me  did  entreat  mc  hardly 
To  say  'twas  she,  to  have  old"  wrath  appeas'd  ; 
And  now  'tis  known  your  sister,  you're  not  pleas'd  : 
How  should  I  shew  myself? 

Phil.  Say  'tis  not  she. 

L.Twi.  Shall  I  deny  my  daughter? 

Phil.  O,  you  kill  me. 
Beyond  all  tortures ! 

L.  Twi.  Why  do  you  deal  thus  with  me? 

Phil.  She  is  my  wife.  I  married  her  at  Antwerp  ;             , 
I've   known    the    way  unto   her   bed    these    three 
months. 

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

plain! 
Phil.  O  mother,  if  you  love  ray  peace  for  ever, 
Examine  her  again,  find  me  not  guilty  !                              J 

'  old}  See  note,  vol.  ii,  p.  638.                                  J 

1           1 

LIKE   A  WOMAN  9.  99 

L,  Twi.  'Tis  now  too  late,  her  words  make  that 

Pmi..  Her  wards  ?  shall  bare  words  overthrow  a 

A  body  is  not  cast  awuy  so  lightly. 

How  can  you  know  'tis  she — lei  sense  decide  it — 

She  then  bo  young,  and  both  so  long  divided? 

L.  TwT.  She  tells  me  the  sad  story. 

Phil.  Does  that  throw  me  ? 
Many  a  distress  may  have  the  face  of  yours, 
That  ne'er  was  kin  to  you. 

L,  Twi.  But,  however,  sir, 

PuiL.  Here's  the  witness. 
And  all  the  wealth  I  had  with  her,  this  ring. 
That  join'd  our  hearts  together.  [Gioes  ring. 

t.  Twi.   O,  too  clear  now  ! 
Thou'st  broiighi  in  evidence  to  o'erthrow  thyself; 
Had  no  one  word  been  spoke,  only  this  shewn, 
'T'ad  been  enough  to  approv'd'  her  for  mine  own; 
See  here,  two  letters  that  begun  ray  name 
Before  I  knew  thy  father:  this  I  gave  her. 
And,  as  a  jewel,  fasten'd  lo  her  ear. 

Grace.  Pardon  me,  mother,  that  you  find  it  stray ; 
J  kept  it  till  I  gave  my  heart  away. 

Phil.  O,  to  what  mountain  shall  1  take  my  flight, 
To  hide  the  monster  of  my  sin  from  sight! 

Sav.  I'll  to  Wales  presently,  there's  the  best  hills 
To  hide  a  poor  knave  in,  [jftide. 

L,  Twi.  O  heap  not  desperation  upon  guilt ! 
Repent  yet,  and  all's  sav'd ;  'twas  but  hard  chance  : 
Amongst  all  sins,  heaven  pities  ignorance. 
She's  still  the  first  that  has  her  pardon  sign'd; 
All  sins  else  see  their  faults,  she's  ooly  blind : 

'  l9  upprov'd]  i.  «.  lo  have  proved. 


I 


100  XO  WIT,  KO  HELP 

Go  10  tliy  chamber,  pra^,  leave  off,  And  itia ; 
One  liour's  repentance  cures  a  (welvemonth's  ain. 

Gkace.  O  my  distreased  busband,  my  dear  bro- 
ther !     [Exeunt  Ladt  Twilight  atid  Gracs. 

Phil.  O  Savournit,  never  came  sorrow  yet 
To  mankind  like  it !  I'm  so  far  distress 'd, 
IVe  no  lime  left  to  give  toy  heart  attendance, 
Too  little  all  to  wait  upon  my  soul. 
Before  this  tempest  came,  how  well  I  stood, 
Full  in  the  beams  of  blessedness  and  joy  ! 
The  memory  of  man  could  never  say 
So  black  a  storm  fell  in  ao  bright  a  day. 
I  am  that  man  that  even  life  surfeits  of; 
Or,  if  lo  live,  unworthy  to  be  seen 
By  the  [most]  savage  eye-sight :  give'a  thy  hand ; 
Commend  me  to  thy  prayers. 

Sav.  Next  time  I  say  'em.  [Atide. 

Phil.  Farewell,  my  honest  breasl,  that  crsv'st  no 

Than  possible  kindness!  that  I've  found  thee  large 

And  I  must  ask  no  more  ;  there  wit  must  stay, 
It  cannot  pass  where  fate  stops  up  the  way : 
Joy  thrive  with  thee !  I'll  never  see  tliee  more. 

IGmng. 
Sav,  What's  that,  sir  ?  pray,  come  back,  and  bring 
those  words  with  you. 
You  shall  not  carry  'em  so  out  of  my  company  : 
There's  no  last  refuge  when  your  father  knows  it ; 
There's  no  such  need  on't  yet ;  stay  but  till  then, 
And  take  one  with  you  that  will  imitate  you 
In  all  the  desperate  on-sets  man  dare  think  on : 
Were  it  to  challenge  all  tlic  wolves  in  Fmnco 
To  meet  at  one  set  battle,  I'd  be  your  half  in'i; 
All  beasts  of  venom, —  what  you  had  a  mind  to, 
Your  part  should  be  took  still :  for  such  a  day 


I 


iiKE  A  woman's.  101 

Let's  keep  ourselvea  in  heart,  then  am  I  for  you. 
'      ■  ■        to  beat  off  all  suspicion, 

Let's  to  the  bride-house  too;  here's  my  petition. 
Phil.  Thou  hasl  a  learning  art  when  all  hopes 
%! 
Let  one  night  waste,  there's  lime  enough  left  to  die. 
Sav.  a  minute's  aa  good  as  a  thousand  year,  sir, 
To  pink  a  man'a  heart  like  a  summer-suit. 

lExeunt. 


SCENE  11. 
n  tn  Ladv  Golden  fleece's  h 

SecfTal  Sercantt  discovered  placing  things  i 
and  PicKADiLL  looking  on. 
Pice.  Bestir  your  bones  nimbly,  yi 
beef- buttocked  knaves  ;  what  a  nui 
binds  do  I  keep  company  withal ! 
flesh  -  colour    velvet    cushi 


>u  ponderous 
iber  of  lazy 


pease-porridge-tawny-s 
upon  revels ! 

First  Ser.   You   can 
because  yot 


■t  your 


my    lady's 
1  bum?    You  attendants 


f irate  and  domineer  well, 
Bge[d]  place ;  but  I'd  fain 


Pick.  O  base  bone-pickers,  I  set  my  hand  to't ! 
when  did  you  e'er  see  a  gentleman  set  his  hand  to 
any  thing,  unless  it  were  to  a  sheep-skin,  and  re- 
ceive a  hundred  pound  for  his  pains  1 

"Sec.  Ser.  And  afterward  lie  in  the  Counter  for 
his  pleasure. 

Pick.  Why,  true,  sir.  'tis  for  his  pleasure  indeed ; 
for,  spite  of  all  their  teeths,  be  may  lie  i'  th'  Hole' 
when  he  list. 

*  i7(i/>]  See  note,  vol.  i.  p.  3S2. 


lOS  KO  WIT,  KO  HELP 

FiKST  Ser.  Marry,  and  should  for  me. 

Pick.  Ay,  thou  nouldst  make  as  good  k  biwi]  as 

the  beat  jailor  of  ihcm  all  ;   I  know  that. 
FinsT  Ser,  How,  fool ! 
Pick.  Hark  !  I  miiai  call  you  knave  within ;  'tia 

but  slaying  somewhat  the  longer  for't.         [BMitnt. 

Loud  music.  Enter,  arm  in  arm,  L%dt  Goldek- 
tLF.ECE  richly  dreited,  and  Mistbrss  Low-watik 
richly  attired  at  a  man;  after  them  Sir  Oliver 
TwiLimiT,  SuNBET,  and  Dutch  Merchant;  ajier 
them  Lad*  Twilioht,  Grace,  and  Jane  ;  afier 
them  Philip  Twilioht,  Sandeield,  Savourwit. 
and  Low-WATEft,  diiguited  at  before. 
Mis.  Low.  This  fair  Rsaembly  is  moat  freely  wel- 

SiR  O.  Twi.,  ^-c."  Thanks  to  yoo,  good  sir. 

L.  Gold.  Come,  my  long-wieli'd-for  madam. 
You  and  this  worthy  BtTangcr  take  best  welcome ; 
Your  freeilom  is  a  aecond  feast  to  mc. 

Mis.  Low.  How  ia't  with  my  brother? 

Low.  The  fit  holds  him  still, 
Nay,  love's  more  violent. 

Mis.  Low.  'Las,  poor  gentleman! 
I  would  he  had  my  office  without  money! 
If  he  should  ofTer  any,  I'd  refuse  it. 

Low,  I  have  the  letter  ready  ; 
He's  worthy  of  a  place  knona*  how  to  use  it. 

Mis.  Low.  That's  well  said.— 
Come,  ladit's — gentlemen — sir  Oliver; 
Good,  seat  yourselves:  shall  we  be  found  unrcadieat? 
IThey  tit. 
What  is  yon  gentleman  with  the  funeral-face  there? 
Methinka  that  look  does  ill  become  a  bride-house. 


SmO.  Twi.  Wlio  does  your  worsbip  mean,  sir? 
my  son  Philip? 
I'm  sure  he  hail  ne'er  ]caa  reason  to  be  sad. — 
Why  srcTou  sad,  son  Philip? 

Phil.  How,  sir,  sad  7 
¥oi>  shall  not  find  it  so,  sir. 

Sav.  Take  lieed  he  do  not,  then.  You  must  be- 
nare  hon  you  carry  your  face  in  this  company  ;  as 
far  as  I  can  see,  that  young  bridegroom  has  hawk's 
eyes,  he'll  go  nigh  to  spell  sister  in  your  face ;  if 
your  nose  were  but  croaked  enough  to  serve  for 
an  S,  he'd  find  an  eye  presently,  and  then  he  has 
more  light  for  tbe  rest. 

Phil.  I'll  learn  then  to  dissemble. 

Sav.  Nay,  and^  you  be  to  learn  that  now,  you'll 
ne'er  sit  in  a  branched'  velvet  gown  as  long  as  you 
live;  you  should  have  took  that  at  niirse,  before 
your  mother  weaned  you  ;  so  do  all  those  that 
prove  great  children  and  batten  well.  Peace,  here 
comes  a  scliolar  indeed ;  he  has  learnt  it,  I  warrant 


Enler  Bevebi 
L.  Gold.  Kind  sir,  ' 
the 


Tuilh  a  pasteboard. 

u're  welcome  ;  you  take  all 


Bev.  I  wish  they  were  but  > 
"  'r  presence  and  this 


]rthy  of  the  grace 
hoice  assembly ; 
Here  is  an  abstract,  madam,  of  what's  shewn. 
Which  I  commend  to  your  favour. 

[^Giving  patteboard. 
L,  Gold.  Thank  you  for'C,  sir. 
Bfv.  I  would  I  durst  present  my  love  as  boldly ! 
[Jtide. 
-W]  i.e.if. 

■  branekeil'i  Has  been  explained — emliroidercd,  flowered 
(■ee  Todd's  Jahnion's  Did.  and  Col^ave's  in  v.) ;  but  ir 
Giffiird  be  nKht  (note  on  Ford's  tforti,  »ol.  ii.  p.  510),  it 
meuu  "  with  tufti,  or  tancli,  dependent  ttara  tbe  thaulden." 


Mis.  Low.  My  honi 
L.  Gold.  Look  tliee 
Mis.  Low.  What's  i 
Bev.  Music,  and  wc 
14/Ier  loud  M 

fr^  then 

of  Fire,  u 

beard    int 
Jlamrt,  a  I. 


brotlier !  [^jftide. 

ere,  sweetheart. 
)  there,  nweet  madam? 

for  a  while,  a  thing  like  a  globe 
tide  of  the  tiage,  andfiofhei  out 
tG.  liAUBsToKe,  ni  the  character 
$  from  it,  niith  yellow  hair  and 
ingUd  with  itrcaki  like  irtVrf 
•.-pointed  fire  in  hii  hand;  and,  at 
the  tame  time,  WE^TiiERwrsi,  ai  Mr,  comet 
dtmn,  hanging  by  a  cloud,  tvith  a  coat  made 
tike  an  almanac,  all  the  twelve  moon*  trt  in  it, 
and  tkeftmr  qitartert,  winter,  tpring,  tummer, 
and  autumn,  with  change  of  nvalheri,  rain, 
lightning,  tcmpeit,  4'^, ;  and  from  under  the 
Mtage,  on  different  fide*  at  the  farther  end,  rite 
OvEBDONE  at  fyater,  and  PErpERTON  at 
Earth;  Water  nilh  greenjiags  upon  hit  head 
ttanding  up  initead  of  hair,  and  a  beard  of 
the  same,  with  a  chain  of  pearl;  Earth  nnlh  a 
number  of  little  thing*  resembling  Ircet,  lite 
a  thick  grove,  upon  hit  head,  and  a  wedge  of 

fold  in  hit  hand,  hit  garment  of  a  clay  colour, 
iBYtKiL  itands  6eAind  oni/^ivfi Sis G.  Lamb- 
stone  the  frit  words  of  hit  tpeech. 

Bev.    Theflatneofteal 

SiB  G.Lamb.   The  wicked  f re  of  Uut 
Doe*  nonr  ijtread  heat  through  water,  air,  and  dutt. 
Bev,  How  !  he's  out  in  the  beginDJng.  \^Atide.'\ — 

The  wheel  of  time  ~ 
Wb*.  The  devil  set  fire  o'  the  diaiaff.        [//«Af. 
Sia  G.Lamb.  Ilhatwai  wont  in  elder  time*  to  poll 
For  a  bright  angel  — lo  they  calCd  me  then — 
Now  so  corrupted  with  the  upstart  fret 
Of  avarice,  luxury,  and  inconstant  heats. 


k 


LIKE  A  WOUAN  S.  lOJ 

itcA  Jram  the  bloods  of  cunning  clap-fain  daugk- 
leri, 

Night-walking  n-ives,  but,  most,  lihidinoui  tvidows. 
That  I,  that  purify  even  gold  ttielf, 
Have  the  contemptible  dross  throren  in  my  face, 
Artd  my  bright  name  walk  common  in  ditgraee. 
How  am  I  ut'd  a'  late,  that  I'm  M  handled, — 
Thrust  into  aUeys,  hospitals,  and  tubs  ! 
I  not  once  a  name  of  comfort,  marm'd  great  houses. 
When  charity  was  landlord ;  I've  gieen  welcome 
To  forty  russet  yeomen  at  a  lime, 
In  a  fair  Christmas  hall.     How  am  I  chang'd.' 
The  chimneys  are  swept  vp,  the  hearth  as  cold 
As  the  forefathers'  charity  in  the  son ; 
All  the  good,  hospitable  heal  now  turns 
To  my  young  landlords  lust,  and  there  it  bums ; 
Rich  widows,  thai  mere  wont  to  choose  by  gravity 
Their  second  husbands,  not  by  tricks  of  blood, 
Are  now  so  taken  with  loose  Aretine  flames 
Of  nimble  wantonness  and  high-fed  pride. 
They  marry  vow  but  the  third  part  of  husbands, 
Boys,  tmoolh-fac'd  catamites,  to  fulfil  their  bed. 
As  if  a  woman  should  a  woman  wed. 
These  are  the  f  res  a'  late  my  brightness  darks, 
AndJUls  the  world  so  full  of  beggarly  sparks. 

Bev.  HeB[T]t,  how  am  1  diagrac'd!  mhat  rogue 
shoul<l  this  be  7 

L.  Gold.  By  my  faith,  inonsieur  Fire,  you're  a 
hot  whoraon ! 

Mis.  Low.  I  fear  my  brother  ia  heaide  his  wits. 
He  would  not  be  so  senaelesa  to  rail  thus  else. 

[Aside. 

Wea.  Afler  this  heat,  you  madams  fat  and  fair. 
Open  your  casements  wide,  and  take  in  air; 
But  not  that  air  false  women  make  up  oaths  with. 
No,  nor  that  air  gallants  perfume  tlieir  clothes  with  ; 


/  am  that  air  that  ktrja  about  the 
None  of  wiy  kindred  wiu  imelt  aut  in  crorodt ; 
Not  any  of  aur  houtt  trot  erer  tainted, 
When  many  a  thousand  of  our  fori  hare  fainted: 
Yet  tome  there  arc  that  be  my  chief  puUuteri, 
'  Widomi  that  falsify  their  faith  to  tuitort, 
And  will  give  fair  word*  mken  the  eign't  w  CaiKer, 
But,  at  the  ■next  remoee,  a  tcurvy  antKer ; 
Came  to  the  poor  men'*  hotuei,  eat  their  baiiqtiet. 
And  at  night  mith  a  boy  toil  in  a  bianket: 
Nay,  »haU  I  come  more  near  ?  perhap*  at  noon. 
For  here  I  find  a  tpotfaU  in  the  moon  : 
I  htamj/auth't  trick;  nihat't  the  that  can  withttand  it. 
When  Mercury  reignt,  my  lady't  chamber-planet  ? 
He  that  belief et  a  midon't  Kordi  ihallfail. 
When  I'emtt'  gomi-tkirti  tmerp''  the  Dragon' t  tail ; 
Fair  weather  the  first  day  the  make*  to  any. 
The  lecond  cloudy,  and  the  third  day  rainy ; 
The  fourth  day  a  great  ilorm,  lightning,  and  thunder; 
A  holt  tirikei  the  suitor,  a  Ikhj  keepi  her  under. 

Bev.  'Life,  these  are  some  countcrfoit  slaves  crept 

A'  purpose  for  disgrace !  tlicy  ahall  all  share  nkh 

Heart,  who  tlie  devil  should  these  be !  {Exit. 

L.  Gold.  My  faith,  gentlemen. 
Air  has  perfum'd  the  room  well ! 

Sir  O,  Twi.  S  a  me  thinks,  madam. 

.Sav.  a  man  may  smell  her  meaning  two  rooms 
off. 
Though  his  nose  wanted  reparations, 
And  the  bridge  left  at  Shoreditch,  as  a  pledge 
For  rosa  solis,  in  a  hieaking-liouse.'  lAtide. 

Mis.  Low.  Life,  what  should  be  his  meaning  in'tl 

'  luvrp]  Old  fi.  "  sweep*." 

'  bltaking-haaKl  L  t.  bleaching-hDiue. 


Low.  I  wonder. 

Over.  Melhinkt  thh  room  should  yet  retain  such 
heal, 
Strwk  out  from  thefrsl  ardour,  and  so  gtom  yet. 
You  should  desire  my  company,  rtishfor  water, 
Tlutt  offers  here  to  serve  your  several  pipes, 
JFithout  constraint  of  mill  or  death  of  ivater-kouse. 
What  if  I  sprinkled  on  the  widow's  c/iceks 
A  fen<  cool  drops,  to  lay  the  guilty  heat 
Thai  flashes  from  her  conscience  to  her  face ; 
WouUPt  not  refresh  her  shame  ?    From  such  as  she 
I  first  took  weakness  and  inconstancy  : 
I  sometimes  strell  above  my  banks  and  spread. 
They're  commonly  Kith  child  before  they're  wed  i 
In  me  the  Sirens  sing  before  they  play. 
In  her  more  witchcraft,  for  her  tmilet  betray ; 
Where  Fm  least  seen,  there  my  most  danger  lies, 
So  in  those  parts  hid  most  from  a  man's  eyes. 
Her  heart,  her  love,  or  mkat  may  he  more  close ; 
I  knom  no  mercy,  site  thinks  that  no  loss ; 
In  her  poor  gallants,  pirates  thrive  in  me ; 
I  help  to  cast  away,  and  so  does  she. 

L.  Gold.  Nay,  and'  you  can  hold  nothing,  sweel 
sir  Water, 
I'll  wash  my  hands  a'  you  ever  hereafter. 

Pxp.   Earth  stands  for  a  full  point,  me  you  should 

To  stop  the  gaps  of  Hater,  AW,  and  Fire : 
I  love  muck  nfell,  but  your  first  husband  better, 
Above  his  loul  he  lov'a  il,  as  his  end 
Did  fearfully  witness  it ;  at  hit  last  gasp 
His  spirit  fiam'd  as  it  forsook  his  breast. 
And  left  the  sparkles  quarrelling  'bout  his  lips, 
Norn  of  such  metal  the  devil  makes  hitn  whips ; 


r 


IDS  so  wn,  vo  Htif 

He  tUa  iarf  g«U  nemgk  to  giml  Im  mmL. 
Ami  w/>r  orf A,  fU  titf  kU  <r«»-<  thfmmtfM: 
Tit  wndtk  kt  Ufi  brUmJ  l«m,  m»^  mrm  kmum. 
He  mwwmg  imrminmrnilffiwrn  tAr  r^Ab 
Offt^  Mm'*  liwiagt,  A(  dnmk  dry  tktir  Iraw  ; 
n«r  fifwr  Am  «  «amw  «M  mwtkmg  tmmUr  ; 
mr»fmepotUTitf^Mk»,lJkm'tmiiumeliair. 
S»  G.  Lam*.  Jmi  mmm  to  ccx,  'gmmm  matmn.Jltrm, 


Seto 


lTi€£Umr>U 


Kfemler.  ml  ttttrmi  rvrwn.  BirttiL  wkk  tkrte  Mktr 
ptrwt,  aUirrd  tiit  tktjamr  Wt^t,wiliwtmgt,^^ 
tfe^Mli  Wifi  Un»g  m  grtmt  TTdfrx,tht  Sprlk 
fTtmd  ■  a«fc.  MmA  am  ,-  (ir  HV^lm  ffW  «m- 
cAmA  rtrf  oJ  MoCAcr  wiiu,  ami  m  the  Eailcn 
Wmi:  Oey  Ahm  to  lie  Am  «4;Sr«,  vUir  fW 
Jfaw  £iraMftC*  MVB  to  gin  tmek  mrf  iImU  ■ 
'  — f> :  €l  Ike  ewi  rf  tht  ^wr  O^  Hb^  tinp 
"  ttr  Eteme»U  rflknr  Segmtr*,  mkiek  mwm  to  jwtf 
■^  ^mattJaU  vf  of  titemaehu  at  the  r*mmmg  ^ 
the  fTrndt.  fMoI  aU  tke  ff-twb  nrcpf  CAM 
repntemied  by  Beteiil. 

EmGold.  How! 

Orerdone! 
All  our  oM  suiloi 


ir  GDbert  I^mbatoael   na 
!  jou'tc  took  paiiH,  my  b 


Wea.  Anid  I  think  we're  ma  good  u  oar  won 
ihougfa  it  coat  some  of  our  pimea ;  I  owe  iBoa 
for  tbe  clouds  ;ci,  I  care  not  wbo  knows  it ;  I 


LIKE  A   WOliAs'S.  109 

planets  are  suflicieat  enough  to  pay  the  painter, 
uad'  I  were  dead. 

L.  Gold.  Who  are  you,  sir? 

Bev,  Your  most  unworthy  servant. 

[^Discovenng  hiTntel/. 

L.G01D.  Pardon  me;  is'tyou,  sir? 

Bev.  My  disgrace  utg'd  my  wit  to  takesom 
Wherein  1  might  both  best  and  properliest 
Discover  my  abusers  and  your  own. 
And  shew  you  some  content, — before  y'had  a 

L.  Gold.  Sir,  I  owe  much  both  to  your  cai 
lo»e. 
And  you  shall  find  your  full  requital  worthy. — 
Was  this  the  plot  now  your  poor  envy  works  out  ? 
I  do  revenge  myselTwith  pitying  on  you. — 
Take  Fire  into  the  buttery,  he  has  inost  need  on't; 
Give  Water  some  small  beer,  too  good  for  him; — 
Air,  you  may  walk  abroad  like  a  fortune-teller ; — 
But  takedown  Earth,  and  make  him  drink  i'  thecellar- 
lExcunl  Sir  G.  Lambstonr,  Weatiibrwisb, 
Overdone,  and  Pepperton,  wilh  Low- 


Mis.  Low.  The  best  revenge  that  could  be  ! 

L,  Twi.   I  commend  you,  madam. 

Sir  O.  Twj.    I    thought   they    were   some   such 
sneakers. 

Sat.  The  four  suitors  1  and  here  was  a  mesa  of 
mad  elements ! 

Mis.  Low.  Lights,  more  lights  there!  where  be 
these  blue-coats?'' 

Enter  Serrant»  with  Ughta. 

L.  Gold.  You  know  your  lodgings,  gentlemen, 


110  KO  vrT,  BO  UKLP 

Sik  O.  T<ri.  Tit  boani7  nulwi  bold  guttt,  nw 

L.  Gold.  GixmI  ten,  lady. 
Sik  ().  Twi.   A  moM  ooaiMitAil  n^ht  begin  m 
h«allh,  madam. 
Ttt  your  long  joy*,  the  yean  go  roond 

wjiJi't ! 
L.  iiai.D.  A»  man  you  have  witli'd '«« 

bouri,  *ir, 
Take  to  your  lodgiiii 

Mm.  Cow.  A  g«ni..-. .  all. 

lErrunt  with  S*-  all  the  gv£H*  txcept 

Philip  Twii  md  Savociwit. 

Phil.  I'm  excepted. 

Kav.  Take  in  aaoiher  to  you  tbcn;  there's  room 
enough 
In  thai  rxccplion,  fuilh,  to  serve  ua  both; 
Ttii:  dial  of  my  aleep  gnei  by  your  eyes. 

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


ACT  V.     SCENE  I. 

The  lame. 

I.Aur  OoLiiBHrt.RKCE,  and  Mistress  Low-watkk 

dUffuUeit  a*  he/ore,  are  ditcavered. 

I,.  Gur.i).  Now,  like  n  greedy  usurer  alone, 

I  H'ltii  up  all  ih'-  wcniih  this  day  has  brought  me, 

Aii'l  thiia  I  hug  it.  [Embracing  her. 

Ml.,  ix,w.  Priihcf 

l,.iii,i.ii.  'J'hus  1  kiss  it.  [A'ming  her. 


Mis.  Low.  I  cs 
L.  Gold.  How 
I'll  try  ihat,  sure 
Mis.  Low.  Pus 
L.  Gold.  Wha 
Mis.  Low.  No 


I't  abide  these  kiasings. 

I'll  kiss  you  out  ofihat  hur 
I !'  by  my  troth,  I  cannot. 


L.G01 


man  must  think  of  othei 
How,  other  mattera, 

■si 


Mis,  Low.  Why,  are  there  d 
belong  to't? 
Do  you  think  you've  married  only  a  cock- 
And  fit  but  for  one  business,  like  a  fool? 
You  shall  not  find  it  so. 

L.  Gold.  You  can  talk  strangely,  sir  : 
Come,  will  you  10  bed? 

Mia.  Low.  No,  faith,  will  not  I. 

L.  Gold.  What,  not  to  bed. 

Mis.  Low.  And"^  I  do,  hang 


to  bed  with 


L.  Gold.  How,  not  to  bed  with  me,  sir?    with 

whom  else  ? 
Mis.  Low.   Why,  am  not  I  enough  to  lie  with 

myself? 
L.  Gold.  Is  that  the  end  of  marriage  ? 
Mis.  Low.  No,  hy  my  faith, 
'Tia  but  the  beginning  yet;  death  is  the  end  on't, 
Unlesa  aome  trick  come  i'  the  middle  and  dash  all. 
L.  Gold.   Were  you  so   forward  lately,  and  ao 
mthful, 


That  81 


you. 


my  modest  strength  could  save  me  from 


I 


112 


IIO  WIT,  KO  BELP 


e  thought 

To  offer  such  bold  tricki 
s  I  nhall 


And  by  deen 
1  feel  myself  wetl  cliaaten'd  s 
'  e  iliird  part  now  e 


on  t  •ince ; 
ne.  i'faith, 
o  any  woman , 
rell  break  myself  from't ; 

And  not  ihe  iliird  part  now  to  loosely  minded. 
O,  when  one  sees  iheir  follies,  'tis  a  comfort! 
My  very  thoughts  take  more  siaid  years  upon  'em. 
O,  marriage  is  such  a  serious,  divine  thing! 
It  Tnakes  yotiih  grave,  and  sweetly  nips  the  ipring, 

L.  Gold.  If  I  had  chose  s  gentleman  for  care 
And  worldly  business,  I  had  ne'er  look  yoa ; 
I  had  the  oflTers  of  enough  more  fit 
For  such  emplnymeni;  I  chose  you  for  lore, 
YoHih,  and  content  of  heart,  and  not  for  trouble* ; 
Yon  are  not  ripe  for  ihem ;  after  you've  spent 
■Some  twenty  years  in  dalliance,  youth's  affairs, 
Then  take  a  book  in  your  hand,  and  sum  up  cares  ; 
As  for  weallh  now,  you  know  that's  got  to  your 
hands. 

Mis.  Low.  But  had  I  known 't  had  been  so  wrong- 
fully got, 
As  1  heard  since,  you  should  have  had  free  leave 
T'  have  made  choice  of  another  master  for't. 

L.  Gold.  Why,  can  that  trouble  you? 

Mis.  Low.  It  may  too  soon  :  bni  go, 
My  sleeps  are  sound,  I  love  not  to  be  started 
With  an  ill  conscience  at  the  fall  of  midnight. 
And  have  mine  eyes  torn    ope  with   poor  men's 

curses ; 
I  do  not  like  the  fate  on'i,  'tl: 
To  breed  unrest,  dissension,  i 
And  I'm  the  worst  at  quarrels  upon  ean 
Unless  a  mighty  injury  should  provoke 
Get  you  to  bed,  go. 

L.  Gold.  Not  without  you,  in  troth,  i 


i  still  apt 
srild  debate, 


Mis.  Low,   If  you  could   think  how  much  you 
wrong  yourself 
In  my  opinion  of  you,  you  would  leave  me  now 
With  all  the  speed  you  might ;  I  like  you  worse 
For  this  fond  heat,  and  drink  in  more  suspicion  of 

you: 
You  high-fed  widows  are  too  cunning  people 
For  a  poor  gcnileman  to  come  simply  to. 

L.  Gold.  What's  that,  sir  ? 

Mis.  Low.  You  may  make  a  youth  on  him, 
'Tis  at  your  courtesy,  and  that's  ill  trusted : 
You  could  not  want  a  friend,  beside  a  suitor, 
To  sit  in  your  husband's  gown,  and  look  o'er  your 
writings. 

L.  Gold.  What's  this  ? 

Mis.  Low.  I  say  there  is  a  time  when  women 
Can  do  too  much,  and  understand  too  tittle: 
Once  more,  to  bed ;  I'd  willingly  be  a  father 
To  no  more  noses  than  I  got  myself; 
And  BO  good  night  to  you. 

L.  Gold.  Now  I  see  the  infection ; 
A  yellow  poison  runs  through  the  sweet  spring 
Of  his  fair  youth  already  ;  'tis  distracted, 
JealouB  of  that  which  thought  yet  never  acted, — 

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

Mis.  Low.    I   prithee,  use  ihem  in  thy  private 
chamber, 
As  a  good  lady  should ;  spare  'em  not  there, 
'Twill  do  thee  good ;  faith,  none  'twill  do  thee  here. 

L,  Gold.   [ri('/v]  Have  I  yet  married  poverty, 
and  miss'd^  love! 
What  fortune  has  my  heart !  thaf  s  all  I  crav'd, 
And  that  lies  now  a-dying;  it  has  took 

'  nia'd]   Old  ed.  "  muiu" 


114  KO  WIT,  KO  BEtP 

A  •peeding  poison,  and  I'm  ignorant  hon  : 
I  never  knew  what  beggary  was  till  now. 

>alili  yields  me  no  comfort  in  this  plight; 
Lt  brought  me  loi 
[^/itide,  and  got 
Mis.  Low.   So,  this  wilt  seire  now   for  b  pre- 
parative 
To  ope  the  powers'  of  some  dislike  at  first ; 
The  physic  will  pay't  home. — 

Enter  Low-watsb,  ditguued  ai  bt/ore. 

Hon  dost  ihou,  sir  f 
How  goes  the  work? 

Low.  Your  brother  has  the  letter. 
Mis.  Low.  I  find  no  slop  in't  then,  it  moTes  well 
hitherto ; 
Did  you  convey  it  closely  ? 
Low.  He  ne'er  set  eye  of  me. 

Enter  above*  Bevebil  irifA  a  letter. 
Bet.  I  cannot  read  too  often. 
Mts.  Low.  Peace;  to  your  office. 
Bev.  What  blessed  fate  look  piiy  of  my  heart. 
But  with  her  presence  to  relieve  me  thus? 
All  Ihc  large  volumes  that  my  time  hath  master'd 
Are  not  so  precious  to  adorn  my  spirit 
As  these  few  lines  are  to  enrich  my  mind; 
I  thirst  again  to  drink  of  the  same  fountain. 

[Reads. 
Kind  sir, — I  found  your  care  and  lore  to  much  in 
the  performance  of  a  little,  w/ierein  your  wit  and  art 
had  late  employment,  that  I  dare  now  trtist  your 
hotom  teith  btuineat  of  more  weight  and  eminence, 
hittle  ikotiyht  the  world,  that,  tinee  the  wedding- 

'  pcniiri]  Qy.  "  porei"  t 

■  about]  i.  c.  on  the  upper  itage — which  mi  nippoied  to 
rcprnenl  s  gallery  on  this  occaKon:  lee  ooie,  voL  ii.  p.  IZA. 


dinner,  all  mi/  mirth  was  but  dissembled,  and  seeming 
Joys  but  eoiinlerfeit.  The  truth  to  you,  sir,  is,  I  find 
so  liuh  siffai  of  content  in  the  bargain  I  mtuie  i* 
the  morning,  that  I  began  to  repent  before  evening 
prayer;  and  lo  shew  some  fruits  of  his  wilfuineglKt 
and  wild  disposition,  more  than  the  dag  could  bring 
fofth  to  rfie,  has  note  forsooh  my  bed  ;  I  know  no 

Mis.  Low,  But  I'll  be  Bworn  I  do.  [Aside, 

Bev.  [reatla]  Being  thus  distressed,  sir,  I  desire 
your  comfortable  presence  and  counsel,  whom  I  know 
to  be  of  worth  mid  Judgment,  that  a  lady  maif  safely 
impart  her  griefs  to  you,  and  commit  'cth  to  the 
virtues  of  commiseration  and  secrecy. —  Your  unfor- 
tunatejriend.  The  Widow-Wife. 

I  have  took  order  for  your  private  admittance  with 
a  trusty  servant  of  mine  own,  whom  I  /tave  placed  at 
my  chamber-door  to  attend  your  coming. 
He  shall  not  wait  too  long,  and  curse  my  slowness. 

Low.  I  would  you'd  come  away  then  ! 

Bev.   How  much  am  I  beguil'd  in  that  young 
gentleman ! 
I  would  have  sworn  had  been  the  perfect  abstract 
Of  honesty  and  mildness;  'tis  not  so. 

Mis.  Low,  I  pardon  you,  sweet  brother ;  there's 
no  hold 
Of  what  yoti  speak  now,  you're  in  Cupid's  pound. 
[Aside. 
Bev.  Blest  be  the  secret  hand  that  brought  thee 
hither ; 
But  the  dear  hand  that  writ  it,  ten  times  blest! 

[Ei^it  abovt' 
Low.  That's  1  still ;  has  blest  me  now  ten  times 
St  twice. 
Away !  1  hear  him  coming. 


KO  WIT,  XO  SBLT 


Mis.  Loir.  Sinke  it  nire  now. 
Low.  I  wBrrant  thee,  aweet  Kale;  chooM  your 
be« ■  [£n(  Mw.  Low-WATC*. 

Ealtr  Bete  u I. 

Bev.  Who's  there  ? 

Low.  O  sir,  is't  you  t  you're  welooine  tfacn : 
My  lady  still  expects  you,  fir. 

Bev.  Who's  with  Wr  T 

Low.  Not  any  crcRture  living,  air. 

Bev.  Drink  tlial ;  iGkmg  numtf. 

I've  made  itiec  wail  too  long. 

Low.  It  does  not  seem  so 
Now,  sir.    Sir,  if  a  man  tread  warilyi 
Ai  any  nise  man  nill,  how  often  may  he  come 
To  a  lady's  chamber,  and  be  netcome  to  her ! 

Bev.  "Thou  giv'st  me  learned  counsel  for  a  cloaet. 

Low.  Make  uae  on't,  sir,  and  you  shall  find  no 

[Beveril  g«et  tnfo  Ladi  Golden fliece's  btd- 
So,  you  are  surely  in,  and  you  must  under. 
He-enter  Mi»,  Low-water,  nith  Sia  O.  Twilioht, 

Ladt  Twilight,  Sunset,  Dutch  Merchanl,  Grace, 

Jahb,  PiiiLtf  TwiLiouT,  Sakdeield,  Savol'rwit, 

and  Servant  I. 

Mis.  Low.  Pardon  my  rude  disturbance,  my  wrongs 
urge  it ; 
1  did  but  try  the  plainness  ofhcr  mind, 
Suspecting  she  dealt  cunningly  with  my  youth, 
And  told  her  the  first  night  [  would  not  know  her; 
But  minding  to  return,  I  found  the  door 
W(trd«d  suspiciously,  and  I  heard  a  noise, 

•  h4tl  — ]  So  old  ed.    Qj.  "belt  tew"  —  a  touplel  being 
iDlandtd  t 


LIKE   A   WOUAn'S.  117 

Such  as  fear  makes  and  guiltiness  at  tli'  approaching 
OTan  untook'd-for  huaband. 
All.  This  is  strange,  sir. 
Mis.  Low.  Behold,  it's  barr'd ;    I  must  rot  be 

kept  out. 
StRO.Twi.  There  is  no  reason,  sir. 
MiB.Low.  I'll  be  resolv'd"  in't: 
If  you  be  sons  of  honour,  follow  me  1 

^Riuhes  into  the  bed-chamber,  followed  hy  Sik 
Oliteb  Twilight,  Sunset,  ^c. 
Sav.  Then  must  I  stay  behind  j  for  I  think  I  wat 
begot  i'  the  woodyard,  and  that  makes  every  thing 
go  so  hard  with  me. 

MiB.  Low.  [iritAin]  That's  he ;  be  sure  on  him. 


Re-enter 


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


Sm 

0.  Tw 

.  Be  no 

t  so 

furious. 

ir. 

Ml 

.Low. 

Shewh 

spe 

■dtc 

him 

to  slip  into  her 

closet. 



hat, 

have  I 

taken 

you 

1.  is 

not 

my  dream 

true 

Unmerciful  aduliress,  the  Hrst  night ! 

SiaO.  Twi.  Nay,  good  sir,  patience. 

Mis.  Low.  Give  me  i1ie  villain's  heart, 
That  I  may  throw't  into  her  bosom  quick ! 
There  let  the  lecher  pant. 

L.  Twi.  Nay,  sweet  sir 

Mis.  Low.  Pardon  me. 
His  life's  loo  little  for  me. 

L.  Gold.  How  am  I  wrongfully  sham'd  !— Speak 


Before  this  company  ;  I  pui 


D  pity. 


0  WIT,  *ro  ntr 


I.  Low.  Tbb  ia  a  Sam  duevMi  j^H^n^  | 


e  ih*t  ttutnt  in  gailt  wHk  her ; 


Sheuksber  a 
ToogroM,  too^ 

BsT.  Rub  ■mduef ! 

Ml*.  Low.  TntAtroua  % 
Did  I  Ibr  tU>  ou  «  rnnid'i  arn)  about  tlkee, 
GaTc  ttiee  the  welcMoe  of  a  wortb;  spirit. 
And  ioi^A  ibee  in  nr  bonM.  aaj,  enienatn'd  tbec 
More  like  a  Bintral  bratber  tban  a  tumafet ! 
And  bare  I  tbia  reward  f  perbajM  ifae  pnde 
Of  tby  food  parti  did  lift  thee  to  this  impadeoca; 
Lat  bes  inak«  tancb  on  'era,  tbe  geu  aotte  ofne : 
Becanse  tbmi'rt  deeply  read  in  man  books  eke, 
Tbon  woaldat  be  ao  in  miae;  there  it  ttaada  fee 

thee. 
Tarn  o'er  tbe  Imtcs,  and  where  joa  left,  go  Ibr- 

To  BB  it  ihall  be  like  the  book  of  fate. 
Em  damt  u^ 

8a  O.  Tvi.  O  dear  *ir,  *ay  not  «o ! 

Mu-  Low.  Naj,  11]  swear  iDore ;  for  erer 

1*11  oeTer  let  a  foot  ibio  ber  bed, 
Nerer  petfonn  tbe  duty  of  mao  to  ber. 
So  long  »i  I  hare  breath. 

Sn  O.  Twi.  What  an  oath  was  tbeiv.  sir ! 
Call  it  again. 

Mtt.  Low.   I  knew,  b;  atnoroni  aparka  i 
bom  their  eyes, 
lite  fire  woald  appear  stionty  in  a  bhae. 
And  BOW  it  flames  indeed. — Out  of  ny  bsoae 
Aad  lake  jonr  gentleman  of  good  partt  along  with 


Thai  shall  be  all  your  substance  ;  he  can  live 

In  any  emperor's  court  in  Christendotn  : 

You  knew^  wbat  you  did,  wench,  when  you  chose 

To  thrust  out  tne;  you  have  no^  politic  love! 
You  ate  to  learn  to  make  your  market,  you  I 
Yoti  can  choose  wit,  a  burden  light  and  free, 
And  leave  the  grosser  element  with  me. 
Wealth,  foolish  trash;   I  thank  you.     Out  of  my 

Sir  O.  Twi.  Nay,  good  air,  hear  her. 
[  sweet  sir 


1 


Sun. 

Mis.  Low.  Pray,  tc 
1  should  be  hei 

r  of  what 


your  chambers,  genllei 


Sir  O.  Twi.  Hear  iier  but  apeak,  sir. 

Mis.  Low.    What   con  she  apeak    but   woman's 
common  language  7 
She's  sorry  and  asham'd  for't, — that  helps  nothing. 

L.  Gold.  Sir,  since  it  is  the  hard  hap  of  my  life 
To  receive  injury  where  1  plac'd  my  love 

Mis.  Low.  Why,  la,  I  told  you  what  escapes  she'd 
have! 

SiB  O.  Twi.  Nay,  pray,  sir,  Tiear  her  forward. 

L.  Gold.  Let  our  parting 
Be  full  as  charitable  as  our  meeting  was ; 
That  the  pale,  envious  world,  glad  of  the  food 
Of  others'  miseries,  civil  dissensions, 
And  nuptial  strifes,  may  not  feed  fat  with  ours ; 
But  since  you  are  resolv'd  so  wilfully 
To  leave  my  bed,  and  ever  to  refuse  n 


As  hy  your  d 


e  I  find  i 


desire, 


%o  VtT,  «o  XXIX 


Tbongh  all  mr  scti 

Heie  are  oar  friendA,  bkb  b«tk  of  wonk  aad  v 

PUce  M  BDuch  power  ia  dm,  u>  ■ 

BcM«en  nj  peace  and  jovn :  aQ  toy  wealtlt  within 

doort. 
In  goU  aad  je«t«U,  lie^i]  ■■  tboae  two  cukett 
I  latelj  M  jon  to,  tbe  *alM  of  wkidh 
Amotmu  u  mmw  Stc  ilwwwwiJ  (jbmji]  a-fiMs ; 
Exebange  a  chariiabk  hand  wiib  ne^ 
And  take  ooe  ouket  frtdjr. — fiuv  llwe  w^  m. 

Sia  O.  Twi.  How  ny  yod  to  thK  mm  f 

Mis.  Low.  Troth,  I  thaak  her,  air! 
Are  not  both  mine  alrcadji  yoa  afcafl  wtBag  nc. 
And  then  make  Batitfacttoa  with  nuae  ownl 
I  cannot  blame  ;ou, —  a  gM>d  coone  for  yoa ! 

L.  Gold.  1  knew'  'twas  not  my  luck  to  be  ao 
happy : 
My  miserieB  are  no  ilarten ;  whea  they  eome. 
Stick  longer  by  roe. 

SiK  O,  Twi.  Nay,  but  gire  tne  leare,  sir, 
The  wealth  comet  all  by  her. 

Mi9.  Low.  So  does  the  shame, 
Yet  that's  moat  mine ;  why  should  not  that  be  too  f 

Sia  O.  Twi.  Sweet  sir,  let  us  rule'  to  mtich  with 
you; 
Since  you  intend  an  obstinate  separation. 
Both  from  her  bed  and  board,  give  your  consent 
To  some  agreement  reasonable  and  hooett. 

Mis.  Liiw.  Must  1  deal  hoocsUy  with  her  lust  f 

L.  Twi.  Nay,  good  sir 

Mis   Low.  Why,  I  tell  you,  all  the  wealth  ber 
husband  left  her 
Is  not  of  power  to  purchase  the  dear  peace 


I 


I 


I 


Hj  bean  bas  lott  in  Uwm  adulterous  teas ; 
Yet  let  ber  works  be  bue,  mtoe  shall  be  noUe. 

Six  O.  Twi.  That's  ibe  best  word  of  comfort  I 
beard  yet. 

Mis.  Low.  Friends'  taty  do  much. — Go,  bring 

those  caskets  forth. —  [fxnni  Iwo  SerwmUs: 

I  hate  her  sight ;  I'll  leave  her,  though  1  lose  by'L 

SiK  O.  Twi.  Spoke  hke  a  noble  gentlenuoii' faith! 
I'll  boDour  thee  for  this. 

Bet.  O  cursed  man ! 
Hwi  ihj  rasb  heat  force  this  diTisionT  [^^tidc. 

His.  Low.  You  shall  have  free  leare  now,  with- 
out all  fear ; 
You  shall  not  need  oil'd  binges,  priry  pas9ige<i 
WatchiDgs   and  whisperings;  take  him  buldly  to 

L.  Gold.  O  that  I  bad  that  freedom '.  siitce  my 

Puts  by  all  other  fortunes,  and  owns  him, 
A  worth;  gentlemao :  if  this  cloud  were  past  him, 
I'd  marry  bim,  were't  but  to  spite  thee  only. 
So  touch  1  bale  thee  now. 

Re-enter  Serrants  wUh  Iwo  ciukeU,  follonxd  by  Sia 
G11.BEST  Lambstoxe,  WcAtHSBwisE,  Peppek- 

SiB  O.  Twi.  Here  come  the  caskets,  sir ;  hold 
your  good  mind  now, 
Aad  we  shall  make  a  ririuoiis  end  between  you. 
Mis.  Low.  Though  nothing  less  she  merit  bat  a 

That  might  still  hang  upon  her  and  consume  her 

siil). 
A>  't  has  been  many  a  heller  woman's  fortuDe, 
That  has  deserv'd  less  vengeance  and  felt  more. 
Yet  my  miud  scorns  to  leave  her  shame  so  poor. 


no  wn,  so  taa 


Pep.  PaniDg  of  good*  before  tbe  bodies  join ! 

Wu.  This  'tis  lo  RMTTj  beardlen,  domiiwerbig 
boys ;  I  knew  'toonld  come  to  thii  pa»s :  well  fkre 
m  JHSt  alnaDAc  jet ;  for  now  is  Mercurr  goti^  iMo 
ibe  aeeond  bonte  netr  imio  Ursa  Major,  ihat  grtu 
Imaks,  tbe  Bear  u  tbe  Bridge-foot  in  beaveit,'  which 
•hews  horrible  bemr-baitings  in  wedlodi;  and  tbe 
Son  new  cniering  into  the  Dog,  veu  'eta  all  together 

Sib  O.  Twi.  You  we  oliai's  in'i. 
Ht>.  Low.  I  ihitik  'tis  »  I  left  it. 
L.  Goto.  Thai  do  b«t  gage  yvoit  &ith  to  thi* 


That  J0«  win  ne'er  retnni  nore  to  BMlett  ne. 
Bat  rest  ia  all  rermge*  fuD  a|ipeaa'd 
And  amplv  satisfied  with  thai  hslf  mv  wealth, 
Asd  take'i  as  freeW  as  lite  wishes  h^th ! 

SikO.Twi.  La.  tok.  sir  :  come,  eonie.  railh,  you 
thai!  iwear  that. 

Ml!.  Low.  Nay,  jEendernea. 
For  your  sakes  now  I  will  deal  faiHy  with  her. 

StV  O.  Twi.  I  would  we  mighl  lee  that,  air ! 

Mis.  Low.  1  cooM  tei  her  free ; 


^  (!!■■■■■«—  la  n* ftrito*  bjr  rtwiiiw * ia ite mm 
■iw  faeeata/" — "Af.  W  *•■  Bi^  m  Biiiai  liiii  is  k 
•WilbH.-  Mai— >•■  Sif^  I.  arti^— .  tA  a.  fc  I 
TV  MoK  wn  ■  w«ll-kBMa  lavcn— Bceat«a(  ta  »* 
tai^i."tifcefcdt»fL»>fcatri^-  GiaMM7a.iBi 
•a  Stab;'*  Lmlf  ^Ftmrnn.  i*«r  Aw  m 
(Wtrtm.t^i'        —   ■'   '  " 


N.  Nay,  do  not  check  your  goodness;  pray, 
Bir,  on  with't. 
Mis.  Low.  I  could  release  lier  ere  I  parted  with 


—  and  set  her 
"  her. 


i  with  you  for  o 
)  all  shar 


I 


her— 
But  'twere  a  courtesy  ill  plat 
At  as  free  liberty  to  marry  a_ 
As  you  all  know  she  was  belore  I  knc 
SiK  O.  Twi.  What,  couldst  thou,  ^i: 
Mis.  Low.  But  'tis  too  good  a  blessing  for  her  ;— 
Up  with  the  casket,  sirrah. 
L.  Gold.  O  sir,  stay! 
Mis.  Low.  I've  nothing  lo  say  to  you. 
Sib  O.  Twi.  Do  you  hear,  sir  ? 
Pray,  lei's  have  one  word  i 
money. 
L.  Gold.  Since  you've  expos'd  r 
and  sorrow. 
And  made  me  fit  but  for  one  hope  and  fortune, 
Bearing  my  former  comforts  away  with  you. 
Shew  me  a  parting  charily  but  in  this, — 
For  all  my  losses  pay  me  with  that  freedom, 
And  I  shall  think  this  treasure  as  well  given 
As  ever  'twas  ill  got. 

Mis.  Low.   I  might  afford  it  you, 
Because  I  ne'er  mean   to  he  more  troubled  with 

you; 
But  how  shall  I  be  sure  of  the  honest  use  on't. 
How  you'll  employ  thai  liberty  ?  perhaps  sinfully. 
In  wantonness  unlawful,  and  I  answer  for't; 
So  I  may  live  a  bawd  to  your  loose  works  still, 
In  giving  'em  first  vent ;  not  I,  shall  pardon  me  ; 
I'll  see  you  honestly  joln'd  ere  I  release  you  ; 
I  will  not  trust  you,  for  llie  last  trick  you  play'd 

me: 
Here's  your  old  suitors. 

Pep.  Now  we  thank  you,  sir. 


d 


WIT,  KO  HELP 


M;  ilmuuic  wami  mo  from  all  cuckoldy 
Be  but  commaniler  of  your  troTd  now. 


And  before  all  these  gentlemen,  our  friends, 
ni  make  a  worthy  choice. 

SfS,  Fly  not  ye  hack  now. 

Mis.  Low.    I'll  iry  (bee  once  :    I'm  married  to 

There's  thy  release. 

SmO.  Twi.   Hoyday!  there's  a  release  with   a 

ThouVl  free,  iweet  wench. 

L.  Goto.  Married  to  another  ! 
Then,  in  revenge  lo  thee," 
To  Tex  thine  eyes,  'cause  ihou  hast  mock'd  my 

heart. 
And  with  such  treachery  repaid  my  love, 
This  is  the  gentleman  I  embrace  and  choose. 

[^Taking  Beverii.  £y  the  hand. 
Mis.  Low.  O  torment  to  my  blood,  mine  enemy  1 
None  else  to  make  thy  choice  of  but  the  man 
From  whence  my  shame  took  head  ! 
L.  Gold.  "Tis  done  to  (juii "  thee ; 
Thou  that  wrong'st  woman's  love,  her  hate  can  tit 
tliee. 
Sib  O.  Twi.  Brave  wench,  i'faiih  !  now  ihou'st  an 
honest  gentleman. 
Rid  of  a  swaggering  knave,  and  there's  an  end  od'i  ; 


waggeni  „ 
n  of  good  parts,  this  t'other  had  ii 
Life,  married  to  another ! 

S[R  G.  Lamb.  O,  brave  rascal,  with  t 

■  Hsyiay!  Ihrrr'i  .  .  .  rrtrnfr  le  (*«]  Hei 
text  is  cotTupled,  ■■  the  melre  i)  fiully. 
'  futj  i-  e.  requite. 


)  thing, 
o  wives  I 

perhipi,  (he 


Wea.  Nay,  and"  our  women  be  such  subtle  anU 
mals,  I'll  lay  wait  at  the  carrier's  for  a  country 
chamber-maid,  and  live  still  a  bachelor.  When 
wives  are  like  almanacs,  we  may  have  every  year  a 
new  one,  then  I'll  hesiow  my  money  on  'em ;  in  the 
e  I'll  give  'em  over,  and  ne'er  trouble  my 

a  G.  Lamii.  1  come  in  a  good  time  to  see  you 


ni  tickle 


you,  I 


laugh  indeed. 

neniber 

me  at  the  banque 

2 -book  t 


And  that's  my  comfort;  no 

Mis.  [lOw.  You  make  mc 

Sir  G.  Lamd.  Sir,  you  re 
How  cunningly  you  chok'd  m 
With  a  fine  bawdy  letter  ? 

Mis.  Low,  Your  own  list,  s 

Sir  G.Lamb.  I'll  read  the 
now  for't  i 
Turn  to  the  act"  in  anno  Jac.  prirno, 
There  lies  a  halter  for  your  windpipe. 

Mis.  Low.  Fie,  no ! 

Sir  O.  Twi.  Failh,  but  you'll  find  it  so,  sir,  an't 
be  follow'd. 

Wea.  So  aays  my  almanac,  and  he's  a  true  man  t 
Look  you  ;  [rcadi^  The  thirteenth  day,  niorlt  for  the 
hangman. 

Mis.  Low.  The  fourteenth  day,  make  haate, — 'tis 


e  there  iher 


Wea.  How  !  is  the  book  an  saucy  to  tell  me  so? 
Bev.  Sir,  I  must  tell  you  now,  but  without  gall. 
The  law  would  hang  you,  if  married  to  another. 
Mis.  Low.   You  can  but  put  me  to  my  book, 
sweet  brother, 


196  Ko  viT,  xo  ucir 


Ami  I'n  mj  neck-Tme'  perfect  here  and  h«e : 
H«&Teo  ^*e  tkcr  eternal  joy,  nj  dMr.fweet  bracfcer  I 
[bittmermg  hmtif.  mmdrmtvmiimg  BKTxau. : 
Low-«  «TEB  MM  Jwawrri  limmif. 

SikG.  L.uu.  O  devil!   Iimelf!   did  she  btnmy 

A  pox  of  t1 

Bet.  I're  two  ukIi  deep  health*  in  t<ro  joja  to 
pledge. 
HeaTea  keep  ne  from  a  ■■rieit! 
'     SikO.Tvt.  HumssLow-iraurl 
Ii  the  tbe  jeaVm  cnckold  all  this  coil'i  aboot  T — 
AimI  my  n^  wanhiplid  ■eiting-aum,  is't  joo,  dr? 
Lov.  A  poor,  wTOBg'tl  gendnnaa,  glad  lo  sen* 

lor  kb  own,  sir. 
Sia  O.  TvL  By  my  &itli. 
You've  flerr'd  the  widoir  a  fine  Irid  between  jos. 
Uts.  Lov.  No  nmre  mj  eneinj  bow,  ^  bradMC*s 

.4nd  my  kind  sister. 

Sia  O.  Tm.  Tbere'a  no  starting  bow  from't : 
Tm  her  own  brotber ;  did  not  yo«  know  thm  t 

L.  Gold.  Twaa  Berer  told  me  jet. 

SiB  O.  Twt.  I  ibo^l  yltad  kMtwn^ 

His.  Low.  What  maoef  is't  T  *tia  the  nme  mbb 
si31. 


1 


So  worse  m 


r  riian  be  i 


I'm  bond  to  love 


tc'd*  in  this  a  dmiUe  Parity, 


LIKE  A  WOUAJTs.  127 

Which,  to  your  praise,  shall  to  all  times  be  known, 
Advanc'd  my  brother,  and  restor'd  mioe  own. 
Nay,  somewhat  for  my  wrongs,  like  a  good  sister — 
For  well  you  know  the  tedious  suit  did  cost 
Much  pains  and  fees ;  1  thank  you,  'tis  not  lost — 
You  wish'd  for  love,  and,  faith,  1  have  bestow'd  you 
Upon  a  gentleman  ihai  does  dearly  love  you; 


Tl». 

th 

ampence  I've  road 

nk,  madam, 

u  well— though  I 

e  you; 

and  you  must 

Ilov' 

could  ne 

ver  ease  you  — 

Wkcn 

I  fetch'd  in  my  broth 

r  thus  t 

o  please  you. 

Sir 

O. 

Twi.    Here's   un 

ought ! 

ty  for 

ever    strangely 

L.Got 

0.  1  see,  too  late. 

there  is 

a  heavy  judg- 

Keeps  company  with  extortion  and  foul  deeds. 
And,  like  a  wind  which  vengeance  has  in  chase. 
Drives  back  the  wrongs  into  the  injurer's  face : 
My  punishment  is  gentle;  and  to  shew 
My  thankful  mind  for'i,  thus  I'll  revenge  this. 
With  an  enibracement  here,  and  here  a  kiss. 

[^Embracex  Mistkbss  Low-water  and  kisses 
Beveril. 

Sib  O.  Twi.  Why,  now  the  bells  they  go  trim, 
they  go  trim.— 
1  wish'd  ihee,  sir,  some  unexpected  blessing, 
For  roy  wife's  ransom,  and  'tis  fain  upon  thee. 

Wea.  a  pox  of  this !  my  almanac  ne'er  gulled 
me  till  this  hour :  the  thirteenth  day,  work  for  the 
hangman,  and  there's  nothing  toward  it.  I'd  been 
a  fine  ass  if  I'd  given  iwelvepence  for  a  horse  to 
have  rid  to  Tyburn  to-morrow.  But  now  I  see 
the  error,  'tis  false-ligured ;  it  should  be,  thirteen 
days  and  a  half,  work  for  the  hangman,  for  he 
ne'er  works  under  thirteenpence  halfpenny  ;  beside, 


138  HO   HIT,   NO  HELP 

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

SiaO.  Twr.  Nay,  faith,  sweet  wife,  we'll  make 
no  more  hours  on't  now,  'lis  ns  fine  a  contracting 
lime  as  ever  came  amongst  gentlefolks. — Son  Philip, 
master  Sandfiold,  came  Co  the  book  here. 

PiiiL.  Now  Im  wak'd 
Into  a  thousand  miseries  and  their  lormenis. 

Sat.  And  1  come  after  you,  sir,  drawn  with  wild 
horses;  there  will  be  a  brave  show  on's  anon,  if 
this  weather  continue. 

SiB  O.  Twi.    Come,    wenches,   where    be    these 
younj;  gen[tle]men'8  hands  now? 

L.  Twr.    Poor  gcnileman,  my  son  !     [WiiA.] — 
Some  other  time,  sir, 

SirO.  Twi.  I'll  have't  now,  i'faith,  wife. 

L.  Gold.  What  are  you  making  here? 

Sir  O.  Twi.  Pve  sworn,  sweet  madam, 
My  son  shall  marry  master  Sunset's  daughter. 
And  master  Ssndfield  mine. 

h.  Gold.  So  you  go  well,  sir  ; 
But  what  make  you  this  way  then  ? 

SiaO.  Twi.  This?  for  my  son. 

L.  Gold.  O  back,  sir,  back !  this  is  no  way  for 
him, 

SimsET.       lii„„t 

SikO.Txi.J"""' 

L.  Gold.  O,  let  me  break  an  oath,  to  save  two 

Lest  1  should  wake  another  judgmer 
You  come  not  here  for  him,  sir. 
SmO.  Twi.  What's  the  matter? 


greater 


LIKE  A  WOMAN 


L.  Gold.  Either  give  me  free  leave  to  make  this 

Or  ril  forbid  the  banes.' 

Sir  O.  Twi.  Good  madam,  take  it. 

L.  Gold.  Here,  master  Sandfield,  then 

Sir  0.  Twi.  Cuds  bodkios  1 
L.  Gold.  Take  you  this  maid. 

[^Giving  Jane  to  Sandfield. 
Sand.  You  could  Dot  please  me  better,  madam. 
SiaO.Twi.  Hoyday!   ia  this  your  hot  love  to 

my  daughter,  sir  ? 
L.  Gold.  Come  liither,  Philip;  here's  a  wife  for 
you.        [^Giving  Grace  to  Philip  Twilight. 
Sib O. Twi.  Zouns,  he  shall  ne'er  do  that;  marry 

his  sister! 
L.  Gold,    Had  he  been  rui'd  by  you,  he  had 
married  her. 
But  now  he  marries  master  Sunset's  daughter, 
And  master  Sandfield  yout's :  I've  sav'd  your  oath 

Phil.  O  may  this  blessing  hold! 

Say.  Or  else  all  the  liquor  runs  out. 

Sin  O.  Twi.  What  riddle's  this,  madam  ? 

L.  Gold.  A  riddle  of  some  fourteen  years  of  age 

You  can  remember,  madam,  that  your  daughter 
Was  put  to  nurse  lo  master  Sunset's  wife. 

L.  Twi.  True,  that  we  talk'd  on  lately. 

Sir  O.  Twi.  1  grant  that,  madam. 

L.  Gold.  Then  you  shall  grant  what  follows  r  at 
that  time. 
You  likewise  know,  old  master  Sunset  here 
Grew  backward  in  the  world,  till  his  last  fortunes 
Kais'd  him  to  this  estate. 


>ie,*ot.  i.  p.  4TI. 


130  KO  WlT,  NO  HELP 

Sir  O.  Twi.  Stitl  this  we  know  too. 

L.  Gold.  His  wife,  then  nurse  both  to  her  own 
and  yours. 
And  both  so  young,  of  equal  years,  and  daughters. 
Fearing  the  extremity  of  her  fortunes  then 
.Should  fall  upon  her  infant,  to  prevent  il, 
She  chang'd  the  children,  kept  your  daughter  witli 

her, 
And  sent  her  own  to  you  for  better  fortunes. 
So  long,  enjoin'd  by  solemn  oath  unto't 
Upon  her  deathbed,  I  have  conceal'd  this ; 
Bui  now  so  iirg'd,  here's  yours,  and  this  ii  his. 

Sav.  Whoop,  the  joy  is  come  of  our  side! 

Wea.  Hey!  I'll  cast  mine  almanac  to  the  moon 
too,  and  strike  out  a  new  one  for  next  year. 

Phil,  tl  wants  expression,  this  miraculous  bless- 


n 


ing! 


ind  knock 


Against  yon  silver  ceiling  now  for  joy  ! 

Wea.  By  my  faith,  but  I  do  not  mean  to  follow 
you  there,  so  I  may  dash  out  my  brains  against 
Charles'  wain,  and  come  down  as  wise  as  a  carman. 

Sir  O.  Twi.  I  never  wonder'd  yet  with  greater 
pleasure. 

L.  Twi.  What  tears  have  1  bcstow'd  on  a  \mi 

And  left  her  [here]  behind  nic  ! 

L.  Gold.  This  is  Grace. 
This  Jane  ;  now  each  has  her  right  name  and  place. 

Sun.  I  never  heard  of  this. 

L.  Gold.  I'll  swear  you  did  not,  sir. 

Sir  O.  Twi,  How  well  I've  kept  mine  oath  againsl 
my  will ! 
Clap    hands,    and  joy    go   with    you!    well    said. 


LIKE  A  woman's.  131 

Phil.  How  art  thou  blest  from  shame,  and  I  from 
ruin!  [To  Gbace. 

Sav.  I  from  the  baker's  ditch,  if  I'd  seen  you  in. 
Phil.  Not  possible  the  whole  world  to  match 
again 
Such  grief,  such  joy,  in  minutes  lost  and  won ! 
Bev.  Who  ever  knew  more  happiness  in  less 
compass  ? 
Ne'er  was  poor  gentleman  so  bound  to  a  sister 
As  I  am,  for  the  weakness  °  of  thy  mind ; 
Not  only  that  thy  due,  but  all  our  wealth 
Shall  lie  as  open  as  the  sun  to  man. 
For  thy  employments  ;  so  the  charity 
Of  this  dear  bosom  bids  me  tell  thee  now. 
Mis.  Low.  I  am  her  servant  for't. 
L.  Gold.  Hah,  worthy  sister ! 
The  government  of  all  I  bless  thee  with. 

Bev.  Come,  gentlemen,  on  all  perpetual  friend- 
ship. 
Heaven  still  relieves  what  misery  would  destroy ; 
Never  was  night  yet  of  more  general  joy. 

[^Exeunt  omnes. 

"  weiiknett']  An  evident  misprint;  but  I  know  not  what 
word  to  substitute  for  it :  qy.  "  wittiness "  ?  see  title  of  the 
play. 


Now.  let  me  ac«,  wkst  naiWf  AtA  wt  hnw  mv! 

Hold  &ir  i»o».  ud  I  cwF  H(  [fc*'^  «l  -' 2 ■ 

iBHs.  full  mooB  twi 
inu  b«lw«ei)  fire  awl  aix  tUi  ■ftfimn— ! 
Thahappra>r%ht;  {ftmdi'}  ^dtgj^  At  ktlf»rt 

Sum  Acrr  mmd  ihcrt  a  etamd  or  Iwo  Sufir^d, — 
Tbl't  some  dosea  of  paoden  nd  boir*  amc 
Pickpockets,  ^on  iiny  know  then  bj  that  wUaxit ; 
And  they  do  trell  to  lue  thai  wliile  ifa«y  majr. 
For  Tyburn  crscks  tbe  pipe  nnd  tfoQt  the  nvtic 
What  says  the  destiny  of  tlie  tmw  tltia  cToung  T 
Hah,  [rcddi]  /tar  no  coliwrf  /  bj  mij  trotk,  agreed 

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

all. 
The  planet's  Japiter,  you  should  be  joTial ; 
There's  nothing  Iets°  it  but  the  Sun  i'  the  D<^:         | 
Some  bark  in  comers  that  will  fawn  and  cog,*  | 

Glad  of  tny  frngments  for  their  etnher-week  ; 
The  sign's  in  Gemini  too,  both  hands  should  meet. 
There  should  be  noise  i'  th'  air,  if  all  things  hap, 
Though  I  love  thunder  nhen  you  make  ihe  clap. 
Some  faujis  perhaps  have  slipt,  1  am  to  answer:" 
And  if  in  any  thing  your  revenge  appears, 
Send  me  in  with  all  your  fists  about  mine  ears. 

<■  Jrli]  i.  e.  hinder!. 
'  rug']  See  iiate,  p.  71. 

*  nitiwrr]  Here  aline  (ending  with  Ihe  word  "Cancer") 
hu  dropt  ouC 


THE  INNER-TEMPLE  MASQUE. 


VOL.  V. 


N 


The  Inner' Temple  Masque.  Or  Matqve  of  Heroet.  Presented 
(as  an  Eniertainement  for  many  worthy  Ladies :)  By  Gentlemen 
of  the  same  Ancient  and  Noble  Hovse.  Tho.  Middleton,  London 
Printed  for  John  Browne,  and  are  to  be  sold  at  his  Shop  in  S, 
Dunstanes  Church-yard  in  Fleetstreete.  1619.  4to. 

Ft  was  licensed  —  "  1G19  10  July  The  Temple  Maske.— 
An  1618:"  see  Chalmers's  Suppl.  ApoU  p.  202. 

Langbaine  (Ace,  of  Engl.  Dram,  Poets,  p.  372)  having  said, 
in  bis  notice  of  this  Masque,  that  Mrs.  Behn  "  has  taken  part 
of  it  into  the  City  Heiress,**  we  are  told  in  the  Biographia 
Dramatica,  that  *'  Mrs.  Behn  has  introduced  into  the  City 
Heiress  a  great  part  of  The  Inner-Temple  Masque;*'  and 
Warton  "  believes"  that  the  Masque  "is  the  foundation**  of 
Mrs.  Behn's  play,  Hist,  of  English  Poetry,  vol.  ii.  p.  399  (note). 
Now  the  fact  is,  that  Mrs.  Behn  has  not  borrowed  a  single 
line  of  the  City  Heiress  from  The  Inner-  Temple  Masque !  Lang- 
baine, who  in  his  list  of  Middleton's  dramas  omits  A  Mad 
World,  my  Masters,  applies,  by  mistake,  to  The  Inner-  Temple 
Masque  a  remark  which  he  had  prepared  for  his  notice  of  that 

Slay,  and  which  he  repeats  when  he  mentions  the  comedy  in 
is  Appendix.  He  also  states  that  the  Masque  was  first 
printed  in  1640 — which  is  the  date  of  the  second  edition  (the 
earliest  he  had  seen)  of  ^  Mad  World,  my  Masters — and  hence 
the  Biogr,  Dram,  gives  a  second  edition  of  the  Masque  in 
1640! 


THE  MASQUE. 


This  nothing  owes  to  any  tale  or  story 

With  which  some  writer  pieces  up  a  glory ; 

I  only  made  the  time,  they  sat  to  see, 

Serve  for  the  mirth  itself,  which  was  found  free ; 

And  herein  fortunate,  that's  counted  good, 

Being  made  for  ladies,  ladies  understood. 

T.  M. 


I 


nurAsn. 


Dtt 
Ptm 
AF 
Kim 

ThM 

.    J(im.T«ita«. 

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

.      W.CAUHEinL 

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

n,  ji/«, 

Itan^MrHM*. 

J 


INNER-TEMPLE  MASQUE. 


EtiltT  Doctor  Almanac,  coming  from  tbr  fimerai  of 
Dccmther,  or  ike  Old  Year. 

D.  Al.  I  have  seen  the  Old  Year  fairly  buried ; 
Good  gentleman  he  nas,  but  toward  his  end 
Full  of  diseases :   he  kept  no  good  diet ; 
He  lov'd  a  wench  in  June,  which  we  count  vild," 
And  got  the  laticr  end  of  May  with  child ; 
That  was  his  fault,  and  many  an  old  year  smells 

Enter  Fastino-Dav. 
How  now!    who's  this?''     O,  one  a'  the  Fasting- 

That  follow'd  him  to  his  grave  ; 
I  know  him  by  his  gauntness,  his  thin  chitterlings ; 
He  would  undo  a  tripe-wife.  [Aitde.'] — Fasting-Dayt 
Why  an  so  heavy  ? 

F.-Day.  O,  sweet  doctor  Almanac, 
I've  lost  a  deur  old  master  !  beside,  sir, 
I  have  been  out  of  service  all  this  Kersmas;*^ 
Nobody  minds  Fasting-Day  ; 
I've  scarce  been  thought  upon  a'  Friday  nights ; 
And  because  Kersmas  this  year  fell  upon't, 
The  Fridays  have  been  ever  since  so  proud, 

■  viU]  i.  c.  vile :  a  form  common  in  our  early  wfitrri. 

''  KhB-$  Ihit']  Old  cd.  "  wko-t  I'iB." 

'  JCirmai]  A  corruption  0/  Chriilmai. 


HO 


E  IKXEK-TEXFLE  MAMrl. 


Tb«]r  MCora  mj  compaDj :  the  batcben'  bays 
At  Temple-Bar  tct  their  preat  dogs  opoa  me; 
I  dare  not  walk  abfiMd,  nor  be  teea  jei ; 
The  Ttwj  poulters**  girls  (brow  roiieo  egg*  at  me, 
S»j,  Ptsb-sirect  li>«e*  n>c  e'en  but  fnta  lectb  ovt- 

wsni: 
The  nnrett  kin  I  bare  looka  ihj  apod  me, 
As  if 't  had  (orgM  me.     I  met  PlaMiparridge  mem, 
H)i  faog-iirolii  eoemf ;  he's  plump  and  lN*t7i 
The  onlj  man  in  place.     Sw«et  moxtier  doctor, 
Prefer  ne  to  (be  Sew  Year ;  yon  can  do't. 

D.  Al.  When  can  I  do'i,  air !  yon  rniut  stay  till 
Lent 

F.'Dat.   Till   Lent!    you   kill  my   beait,  sweet 
nnutei  doctor ; 
Tbnist  me  into  Candl«mas-ETe,  I  do  be«eeeb  you. 

D.  Al.  Awb;!  CaDdlenus-Ete  will  never  bear  (liee 
r  these  days,  'tis  k  fraropolc  ;*  iHe  Puritans 
Will  nercT  yield  to't. 

F.-Dai.   Why,  they're  &t  enousb. 

D.  Al.  Here  ronMS  Plnmporrioge. 

Enltr  PLF](POKBIt>GS. 

F.-D*T.  Ay,  be"»  sure  of  welcome  : 
Methinks  be  move*  like  one  of  (be  great  porridge* 

tubs 
Going  to  the  Counter. 

Plcm.  O,  kiltins,  cruel  tight !  yonder's  a  Psating- 
Day,  a  lean,  spiny^  rascal,  with  a  dog  in'i  belly ;  his 
very  bowHi  bark  with  hunger.  Araunt!  thy  breath 
stinks ;  I  do  not  lore  to  meet  (bee  fasting ;  tlrnn 
art  nothing  bat  wind,  thy  siotnach**  full  of  fiult,  as 
if  they  bad  lost  tbeir  way,  and  (boa  made  with  the 


■P^i 


UASQUE.  141 

wrong  end  upward,  like  a  Dutch  maw,  that  dis- 
charges still  into  the  mouth. 

F.-Dav.  Why,  thou  whorson  breakfast,  dinner, 
nunchiona,  supper,  and  bever,*  cellar,  hall,  kitchen 
and  wet-lardcr! 

PiUM.  Sweet  master  doctor,  look  quickly  upon 

That  I  may  break  the  urinal  'bout  his  pate. 

[^Offering  urinal  to  D.  Aluakac. 

D.  Al.  Nay,  friendship,  friendship ! 

Plum.  Never,  master  doctor, 
With  any  Fasting'Day,  persuade  mc  not, 
Kor  any  thing  belongs  to  Enibcr-week  ; 
And  if  1  take  against  a  thing,  I'm  stomachful;'' 
I  was  born  an  Anabaptist,  a  fell  foe 
To  fish  and  Fridays  |  pig's  my  absolute  sweetheart; 
And  shall  I  wrong  my  love,  and  cleave  to  salt-fish  ? 
Commit  adultery  with  an  egg  and  butter? 

D.  Al.  Well,  setting  this  apart,  whose  water's 


1 


this 


ir? 


O,    thereby    hangs    a    tale  ;    my  tnaatei 
Kersmaa'g, 
It  is  his  water,  sir;  he's  drawing  on, 

D.  Al.  Kersmas['B]7  why,  let  me  see ; 
I  saw  him  very  lusty  a'  Twelfth  Night. 

Pluu.  Ay,  that's  true,  sir ;  but  then  he  took  his 

With  Choosing  King  and  Queen  :' 

Has  made  his  will  already,  here's  the  copy. 


lac^Bj]  i.e.  Mubborn. 

ring  Kingand  QuEcn]  See  mucb  concemiaE  ihe  Choosing 
ind  Queen  on  Twolflh  Day,  ia  Brand's  Pap.  Antig. 


tel.  i.  p.  10,  ed.  1813. 


us 


THE  INKSK-TKMn.B  lUMDB. 


D-  At-  And  what  has  he  given  sway  ?  let  nie 
tee.  Plum  broth. 

[Talang  witt/rwi  PLcwpoBaniGK. 

Plvm.  He  could  not  give  anay  much,  sir;  hia 
children  lia»e  so  consumed  him  beforehand. 

D.  Al.  [readt]  The  Uut  will  ami  te*tamtMt  of 
Kertnuu,  irrecocahU.  In  pritm4,  J  girt  and  lietfwealk 
to  my  lecomt  to»  Im-and-l*^  ki*  perpetwU  lodging 
r  tf»e  Kimg't  Batch,  and  hi*  ordinary  ouX  nf  the 
batkcl." 

Plch.  a  iweet  allowaace  for  >  Mcond  brother  ! 

D.  Al.  [rM^]  Ittm,  I  giw<  to  ma/  yotingttt  toiu 
(Jlttk  and  PrimaritU^  tkc  fiUt  eomMomitg  of  nigku 
and  daift,  amd  wiutt  and  rliMm,  logetktr  with  ont 
ucrel  gift,  that  i$,  nevtr  to  give  ertr  mUle  tkay  ktK* 
aptnntf. 

Plum.  And  if  e'er  they  do,  I'll  be  hanged! 

D.  Al.  [mtilt]  For  ihc  poiteinon  of  aU  my  lamtU, 
manort,  manor-homte*.  I  Uart  them /nil  and  thaliy  (0 
my  rldfil  son  Soddy,'^  irAuni,  iJiirtn^  hi*  mimoritif,  I 
coMmil  to  the  ctului/y  of  a  pair  0/  Knarei  and  Onr- 
and-lhirtif. 

Plum.  There's  knaves  enow,  a'  conscience,  10 
coien  one  fool ! 

D.  Al.  [rraiii]  Itrm,  J  girt  to  aty  rldttt  dau^kltr 

I  /■•ouf/n]  A  amine  »l  diet,—"  very  much  lued  in  an  or- 
ilinirj."  My»  Collon  ;  tee  Cvmpltml  <ramnUr,  p.  16*,  od.  ISTt. 

*  Ikthiuktl']  In  wbicti  ihe  brDkramealuid  twvad  froD)  the 
(llBriffi'  tshle  *»«  c»rri«l  lo  ihe  CounKrs,  (ot  Ihe  tue  of  ihe 
poorer  priiontr*. 

I  OUrk  a»i  PriMrdK]  Gudm  it  card* :  rODceming  the 
fermn,  f  Tht  C.*.pl«»  aomttlrr.  p.  90 :  and  for  in  ■cCHml 
.if  the  l»ttpr,  "hich  ia  the  wow  u  Primin,  vide  $in^>  i(r- 
•MrrhM  *»"•  nui.  tf  PlSfi-g  CarJi.  p.  J4S,  Uid  Nuo'i  <!loa. 


-  .Ve<U»]  A  game 
played  in  n»r«  «'y*  "^ 


1  ord*.  whiih  t 


I 


ER-TEMPLE  UA5QUE,  143 

Tickle-me-^ickly,  and  to  her  nster  My-lady'i-kole, 
free  leave  to  M/t  for  themschet,  either  in  court,  city, 
or  country. 

Pluu.  We  thank  him  heartily. 

D.  Al.  [reads]  Item,  I  Uare  lo  their  old  aunt  My- 
Km-has-pigged'  a  litler  of  cotirtesam  lo  breed  up  for 
Shrovetide. 

Plum.  They  will  be  good  ware  in  Lent,  when 
Renh  ia  forbid  by  prodamRtion. 

D.  Al.  [readgj  Item,  I  gice  lo  my  nephew  Gamhoh,^ 
commonly  called  by  the  name  of  Kersmas  Gamliols,  all 
my  cattle,  horme  and  mare,  liul  let  him  shoe  'em  himself. 

Plum.  I  ha'  seen  him  shoe  the  inare^  forty  times 
over. 

D.  Ah.{Teads\  jIIso,  I  bequeath  tomy  cousia-gemian 
fVasiail-bmni,'  born  of  Dutch  parents,  the  privilege  of 
a  free  deniten,  that  is,  to  be  drunk  with  Scotch  ale  or 
English  beer ;  and,  lastly,  I  hare  given,  by  mtrd  of 
mouth,  to  poor  Bimd-man-bvff  a  flnp  with  a  fox-tail. 

Plum.  Ay,  so  has  given  "tm  all,  for  aught  I  aee. 
But  now  what  think  you  of  liis  water,  sir  ? 

*  Tiektc'tnc-quickli)  .  .  .  My-lady' s-holc  .  .  .  ily-toa-kiU' 
piggtd'i  Gamea  at  carJs. 

r  ay  nephiui  Gamboh^  In  The  Mniivt  <f  Chrhlaai,  16IS, 
Ben  J«DK)n  inlroilucFB  Clirisltnaa  and  faU  ivn  cliildreii,  among 
wbom  ii  "GjtUDok,  likt  a  $amhler,  with  a  hoop  atid  bells;  hii 
larch- btattr  armrd  kM  o  CD«-.Iqy  ando  iindiBg-cfoM,"  Woria 
(by  Gifford),  vol.  vii.  p.  274. 

*  ihoe  the  more]  A  ChrUtniiii  aporl: 

"  Of  Blind-man-buire,  and  of  ilie  care 
Thai  yDUng  meB  haie  to  lAow  the  Hart," 

Hetrick's  lUtpiridi,,  &c.  p.  IM,  ad.  104B. 
'  Ifauail-bou'li  Filled  with  spiced  itinearale,8rc.,  and  lued 
oa  NeW'yeai'a  eve,  &c,:  see  Brand's  i*«f).  ^i '17.  vol.  i.  p.  l.anq. 
cd,  1813.  In  ihc  Mamae  by  Jonion  juat  meulioned,  oneofthe 
children  of  ChriBtmas  ii  "  Wabbei,  H*f  a  irral  lempilir,  and 
tangiltr !  lur  fmgi  bearing  a  brgwi  bmel,  dteit  mlh  ribandt  and 
mnury,  b^fm  htr." 


THE  INNEB-TEUPl.E  MAIOUB. 


1 


D.At 

Bill  ne'e 

F.-D« 

I  ihould 

Wtll 

he  may  linger  out  till  CaodletnM,                 | 

r.  Would  he  were  gone 
)e  more  respected. 

lAM. 

Euler  Naw  Yea 

a. 

D.  Ai 

PtUK. 

D.Al. 

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

Mirthondal.ealilifulti« 

him  ;  I'll  begone.              J 
e  fill  all  your  daya!            1 

Look  freshly,  i 

N.  Year.  I  cannot,  master  ilocior, 
My  failier's  death  sets  the  spring  backward  i'  tne 
For  joy  and  cumfort  yet  ;   I'm  now  between 
Sorrow  and  joy,  tbe  winter  and  the  spring  ; 
And  as  time  gathers  freshness  in  its  season. 
No  doubt  affects'  will  be  subdu'd  with  reason. 

D.Al.  You've  a  brave  mind  to  work  on;  use 
my  rules. 
And  you  shall  cut  a  caper  in  November, 
When  other  years,  your  grandfathers,  lay  bed-rid, 


N.  Yeak.  What's  he  that  looks 

shakes  so  ? 
D.  Ah.*  A  Fasting-Day. 
N.Year.   How's  that? 
D.  Al.   a  foolish  Fasting-Day, 


1  piteously  and 


ble  coxcomb,  seeks 
Has  hunted  up  and  down,  has  been  at  court. 
And  the  long  porter'  broke  his  head  across  there ; 

''  qfftcli']  i.  «.  aflectionB,  Feelingi. 

-  D.  AL]  Old  rd.  ■'  Fn.*." 

'  Ihi  lung  porler]  "  Waller  Parsons  born  in  this  Counlywai 
tint  Apprentice  to  a  Smith,  when  be  grew  lo  tall  in  slsture. 
thai  B  hale  wiu  mnde  Tor  him  in  lli«  Ground  lo  Blnnd  ihercJD 
up  to  the  kactt,  so  lo  make  hltn  odeqiiaic  xilh  his  Fctloir- 
work-iuen.  He  afierwardi  was  Porter  lo  King  Joniesi  seeing 
■1  Galea  generally  ire  higher  than  ibe  rest  of  the  Building, 


He  had  rather  see  the  devil ;  for  this  he  says, 
He  ne'er  grew  up  bo  tall  with  fasting- days, 
I  would  not,  for  the  price  of  all  my  almanacs, 
The  guard  had  took  him  there,  they'd  ha'  beat  out 
His  brains  with  bombardB,"     I  bade  him  slay  till 

Lent, 
And  DOW  he  whimpers  ;  he'd  to  Rome,  forsootli. 
That's  his  last  refuge,  but  would  try  awhile 
How  well  he  should  be  us'd  in  Lancashire. 

N.  Year.  He  was  my  father's  servant,  that  he 

D,  At.  'Tis  here  upon  record. 

F.-Day,  I  serv'd  liim  honestly,  and  cost  him  little. 

D.  Al.  Ay,  I'll  be  sworn  for  that. 

F.-Dav.  Those  were  the  times,  sir. 
That  made  your  predecessors  rich  and  able 
To  lay  up  more  for  you ;  and  since  poor  Fasting -days 
Were  not  made  reckoning  on,  the  pamper'd  flesh 
Hai  play'd  the  knave,  maids  have  had  fuller  bellies, 
Those  meals  that  once  were  sav'd  have  stirr'd,  and 

leapt. 
And  begot  bastards,  and  they  must  be  kept ; 

lo  il  waa  liglitly  thai  the  Porter  ahould  be  tnllcr  than  odier 
Percons.  Hit  wiBpropDrdoaabU  in  all  parta,  anil  lind  strength 
equal  Id  heigbt,  Valaiu  lo  his  alrenglli.  Temper  to  liis  valour, 
■o  Ihat  he  diidained  to  do  an  injury  to  any  single  peraon.  Ue 
would  make  nothinK  lu  take  (wo  of  the  ullest  Yeomen  of  ihe 
Guard  (like  the  CiuiTd  and  Liver)  under  his  Arma  at  once, 
and  order  them  an  he  pleased.  Yet  were  bis  Parents  (for 
ought  1  do  understand  to  the  contrary)  but  of  an  ordinary 
nature.  .  .  .  Thi>  Fanoni  died  Anno  Dom.  162-."  Fuller's 
H'arlhki  [p.  *8,  Sltfff<ird-Mrt),  ed.  1662, 

■   Tht  guard  .  .  .  bmnbordij  i.  e.  large  cans :  compare  The 
Martyrtd  Smldier,  1638,  by  "tt.  Shirley : 
"  the  black  Jacks 
Or  Bimbardi  toit  by  thi  King'i  Gvard."     Si^-  ni. 

'  tkal  he  uat,  lir]    Should,  perhaps,  be  given   lo  Doctor 
Almanac. 

TOL.  V.  0 


1-16  THE   IKNER-TEMPLE   UASQUE. 

Better  keep  Fasting-days,  yourself  may  t(>Il  ye,* 
And  for  llie  profit  of  purse,  back,  and  belly. 

D.  Al.  I  never  yei  heard  truth  better  whin'd  our. 

N.Year.  Thou  shall  not  all  be  lost,  nor,   for 
vain-glory, 
Greedily  welcom'd  ;  we'll  begin  with  virtue 
As  we  may  bold  wilh't,  that  does  virtue  right. — 
Set  him  down,  air,  for  Candlemas-Eve  at  night. 

F.-Da*.  Well,  better  late  than  never: 
This  is  my  comfort, — I  shall  come  to  make 
All  the  fat  rogues  go  to  bed  su|)perles8, 
Get  dinners  where  ihey  can.  [£*»(. 

Entm-  Time. 

N.  Year.  How  now  ?  nbat's  he  I 

D.  Al.  It  is  old  Time,  sir,  that  belong'd  to  all 
Your  predecessors. 

N.  Year.  O,  I  honour  that 
Reverend  figure!  may  1  ever  think 
How  precious  tbou'rl  in  youth,  how  rarely 
Redeem'd  in  age ! 

Time.  Observe,  you  have  Time's  service; 
There's  all  in  brief. 

Enter,  /or  the  Jirst  /tntimasque,"  Candlemas-Dat, 
Sit  HOVE -Tuesday,  Lent,  111  Mav-Dav,  Mid- 
BVMMEB-EvE,  and  First  Doo-Dav. 
N.  Year.  Ha,  doctor,  what  are  these  ? 

'  yt]  Olil  ed.  "you." 

■  Anlmnititii']  "  An  Antimasijue,  or,  u  Jonion  elaenbere 
rails  it,  'a  Foil,  or  false  maique,'  is  aomeiliing  directly  oppoaed 
to  ibc  principal  msHjue.  If  ihit  wi«  lofty  and  Bmous,  that 
wu  light  and  ridiculoui.  Il  idmillcd  of  tbc  wildeat  excra- 
vigancie*!  and  il  ia  only  ly  Jantott  thai  atlmpli  arc  imietimri 
nadt  re  cannecl  II,  in  any  digret,  uiilh  tit  main  itory,"  Gifford's 
nnlc  on  B.  Jonson'R  Ifarti,  vol.  lii.  p.  2^1.  The  praise  which 
GiSbrd  would  conliDe  la  Jodsod  may  cerlaioly  be  extended  lo 
Middleioo. 


THE  INKER-TEMPLE 

Time.  The  rabble  that  I  pity;  these  I've  serv'd 

Bui  few  or  none  have  ever  observ'd  me. 
Amongst  this  dissolute  rout  Candlemas-Day  ! 
I'm  sorry  to  see  him  so  ill  associalL'd. 

D,  Al.  Why,  that's  his  cause  of  coming,  to  com- 
plain 
Because  Shrove -Tuesday  this  year  dwells  so  near 

But  'tis  his  place,  he  cannot  be  remov'd. — 
You  must  be  patient,  Candlemas,  and  brook  it. — 
This  rabble,  sir.  Shrove -Tuesday,  hungry  Lent, 
III  May-Day,  Midsummer-Eve,  and  the  First  Dog- 
Day, 
Come  to  receive  their  places,  due  by  custom. 
And  that  they  build  upon. 

N.  Year.  Give  'em  their  charge. 
And  then  admit  'em. 

D.  At.  I  will  do't  in  cone."— 
Stand  forth,  Sh rove-Tuesday,  one  a'  the  sllenc'st 

bricklayers ; 
'Tis  in  your  charge  to  pull  do 
To  set  your  tribe  a-work,  cau! 
And  make  a  dangerous  teak  thi 
And  tickle  Codpiece-Row  ;  ru 
The  poor  players  never  ihriv'd 

'  in  cane}  Qj.  incsnijwnf  (I  e.  immedialc];)  t  —  the  MS. 
hiving  had,  pertiBps,  ■'  iaron."  A  friend  suggests  Ibal  there 
might  bflve  been  aome  abbreviation  ot  eaxtra,  oi  contrariei  ; 
tee  nhal  falloni ;  doctor  AJmanac  charges  ihem  to  do  the  re- 
verie of  oliBt  they  ought  to  da,  for  "  to  bid  'em  sin's  the  nay 
to  make  'em  mend." 

r  pulliavnt  bmidy-kiaut;  Uc ruin  Iht  Coctpii]  The 

apprcaiicea  med  (ai  already  ob«erved,  note.  vol.  iii.  p.  217) 
10  puU  down  brothels  on  Shrove-Tuesday :  concerning  Turr- 
bull  Street,  see  note,  vol.  iv.  p.  3*.  The  rest  of  the  present 
passage,  where  there  is  a  pun  on  the  word  "  leak,"  is  e*- 
plaioed  by  the  follawitig  extract  from  Dekker's  OieUi  Jhna- 


1  bawdy-houses, 
spoil  in  Shored) tch, 
e ;  deface  Turnbtdl, 
I  the  Cockpit;^ 
'tj  a' my  conscience. 


E^ 


H8 


R-TEHFLE  ItASQCS. 


Some  quean  pi«s'd  upon  the  first  brick. — 

For  you,  lean  Lent,  be  sure  you  uiter  first 

Your  rotten  herrings,  and  keep  up  your  best 

Till  thev  be  rotten,  then  there's  no  deceit. 

When  they  be  all  alike.— You,  111  May-Day, 

Be  as  unruly  a  rascal  ss  you  may. 

To  siir  up  deputy  Double-diligence, 

That  comes  perking  forth  with  halberts. — 

And  for  you, Midsummer*  Ere,  that  watches  warmest,' 

Be  but  sufficiently  drunk, and  you're  well  harnesL — 

You,  Dog-Day 

Dog-Dav.  Wow  t 

D.  Al.  a  churlish,  maundering'  rogue! 
You  must  both  beg  and  rob,  curse  and  collogue  ;■ 
In  cooler  nights  the  barn  with  doxies  fill. 
In  harvest  lie  in  haycock  with  your  gill." — 
They  have  all  their  charge. 

N.  Year.  You  have  gi'n't  at  the  wrong  end. 

D.  Al,  To  bid  'em  sin  's  the  nay  to  make  '«in 

For  what  they  are  forbid  they  run  to  headlong; 
I  ha'  cast  their  inclinslions. — Now,  your  service 
To  draw  fresh  blood  into  your  master's  cheeks, 

[/fere  the  first  dance  and  first  Anlinuuqut,  by  these 
six  rude  onei,  n-ho  then  exeunt.     Exit  Time. 

ttarlie,  11118:  "  Sbroue-tuecda;  fallei  on  thit  day.  on  which 
the  prentices  plucked  downe  Ihe  cocke-pit,  and  on  which  they 
did  alnayes  vie  to  rifle  Madame  Le>ke«  boiue  *t  the  vpper 
end  of  Shorditeh.'-    Sig.  c. 

'  wanaeit']  A  friend  nishei  to  read  "warneit." 

'  maunilerlug'i  i.  e.  multering,  grumbling :  (and  in  cant 
language,  begging.) 

*  eoIlBgut'i  "To  Collogue.  To  wheedle  or  coax."  Gro»e"s 
Clati.  Diet,  i^  V-a.1.  Tatigvt,  lu  which  lenae  it  ia  probably  uied 
here:  it  meaas  also — to  talk  closely  with,  (□  ploL 

*■  gOI\  j.  e.  wench. 


THE  INNEB-TEUFLE  UASaCE.  H9 


N.  Year.  What  scornful  looks  the  abusive  vil- 

Upon  the  reverend  form  and  face  of  Time  ! 
Methought  it  appear'd  aorry,  and  went  angry. 
D.  Al.  'Tis  still  your  servant. 

EnUr,  Jot    the   Kcond  Aatimasque,'    Three    Good 

Days,  Three  Bad  Days,  ana  Two  Indifferent 
Days. 

N.  Year.  How  now  ?  what  are  these  ? 

D.  Al.  These  are  your  Good  Days  and  your  Bad 
Days,  sir ; 
Those  your  Indifferent  Days,  nor  good  nor  bad. 

N.  Year.  But  is  here  all? 

D.  Al.  a  wonder  there's  so  many. 
How  these  broke  loose ;  every  one  stops  their  pas- 

sage, 
And  makes  inquiry  after  'em : 
This  farmer  will  not  cast  his  seed  i'  the  ground 
Before  he  look  in  Bretnot ;  there  he  linds 
Some  word''  which  he  hugs  happily,  as,  Plij  the  box, 
Make  half  betimei,  ItfalU  into  thy  mouth  ; 
A  punctual  lady  will  not  paint,  forsooth. 
Upon  hia  critical  days,  'twill  not  hold  well; 
Nor  a  nice  cily-wedlock*  eat  fresh  herring 
Nor  periwinkles, 

Although  she  long  for  both,  if  the  word  be  that  day 
Gape  after  gudgeons,  or  some  fishing  phrase ; 

'  \  wife   will   not   entreat    the   money- 


'  EnUrifar  Iht  leeand  Jiilimaiiiae,Scc.]  This  stage- direction 
{not  in  old  td.)  is  sufilcienl  here,  as  the  pcrsana  who  compose 
the  second  ADlimasque  Are  minutely  deacri bed  in  aaubsequent 


150 


rHEK-tturu  lUMtlR. 


house   uid    gets  lier  huabuid's 


That  lies    i' 

childre 

To  furnish  a  poor  gentleman's  extremes, 
If  ahe  find  XihU  in  a  bag  that  morninK ; 
And  so  of  (houiand  follies :  these  suffice 
To  shew  you  Good,  Bad,  and  Indiflerent  Dajrs  ; 
And  all  have  tlicir  inscriptions — hcie's  Cock-a-hoop, 
This  The  gear  ciillen4,*  and  this  Faial  keart  never; 
These  noted  lilack  for  badness,  fl<idi  in  piti. 
This  Putt  Jar  pudiiiiigi,  this  Put  up  iky  pipes  : 
These  black  and  white,  indilTerenlly  inclining 
Tu  both  their  natures,  Seithrr  full  nor  foMling, 
In  dock  out  mctlU.*' — Now  to  your  nioiion, 
Black  knaves  and  nhite  knaves,  and  you,  parcel- 
Two  hygxicriticBl,  party-colour'd  varleta, 
That  play  o'  both  hands. 

[//rrc  the  ifcimd  dance  and  latt  Antimasmie  by 
eigkt  boift  kabiled  according  lo  ikeir  former 
charaeler* :  Ike  Three  Good  Dats  atlirtd 
all  in  n'kile  garmenU  titling  cloie  lo  ikeir 
bodie*,  their  inieriplioni  on  their  breattt — on 
the  first  Cock  -  a  -  hoop,  on  the  lerond  The 
gear  cotiens,  on  the  third  Faint  heart  never: 
The  TltBEE  Bad  Dats  all  in  black  garmenti, 
their  facet  black,  and  their  intcriptions — an 
Ike  Jlrst  Rods  in  piss,  na  the  leamd  Post 
for  puddings,  oh  the  third  Put  Up  thy  pipes  : 
>  tkt  gtar  toitrns]  i.  e.  ih«  mutter  goM  on  proiperomly : 


.  IJO. 


Sig.  rl,  Hort'u,  rd.  tS»8. 
r  Tairer  BottUi,  p.  125— ITsrtM, 


THE  IKKEB-TEUPLE  UASQUE, 


The  Two  Indifierent  D*ys  in  garmmlt  half 
n-kiie,  half  black,  their  faces  seamednith  that 
parly-colour,  and  their  mscripl'iont — on  the 
frit  Neither  full  nor  fsating,  on  the  second 
In  dock  out  nettle.  These  having  purchased 
a  smile  from  the  cheeks  of  many  a  beauty  by 
their  ridiculous  fgures,  vanith,  proud  of  thai 

D.  Al.  I  see  these  pleasures  of  low  births  and 


our  cheeks  ;  I  pity  you, 
conceal  IVom  you 


Add  little  freshness 

And  can  no  longer  I 

Your  happy  omen. 

1  will  disclose  a  secret  in  astrology,  ^h 

By  the  sneet  industry  of  Harmony,  ^^^ 

Your  white  and  glorious  friend;  ^H 

Even  very  deities  have  conspir'd  to  grace  ^| 

Your  fair  inauguration  ;  here  I  find  it, 

'Tis  clear  in  art, 

The  minute,  nay,  the  point  of  time's  arriv'il, 

Methinks  the  blessings  touch  you;  now  they're  felt, 

{_Al  tvkich  loud  music  heard,  the  first  cloud 
vanishing,  Harhoni  is  discovered,  with 
her  sacred  quire. 

The  First  Song. 
Har.   ising.^ 

Nen  Year,  New  Year,  hark,  harken  to  me! 
I  am  sent  doti'n 
Toeron>n 
Thy  wishes  with  me  : 

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


THE  inXES-TEUFlE  HAMVI. 


Tkj/  tpnug  tkall  ra  all  twttt*  a 

Tky  tmmmfT  tluitt  ir  rUat  m»d  « 

ny  aMnmn  Mwrll  tht  Artnt  ««<  b/l 

ffiiii  com  and /mitt,  ript,  twMt,  aW  mffi ; 

>f  wJ  in  (Ajr  tinier,  wkm  all  »«, 

TAoB  thall  depart  ai  wkilr  ai  t»OK. 

[TAmi  n  itrond  rtoud  faauhatg,  lilt  Mampten 
thmflrrx  art  dueotfrrd,nUi»t  i»  arektt  of 
clotuU,  l>f'ing  Hinf  m  nnmber,  hervet  deijled 
for  titrxt  rirluet .-  the  tamg  goet  on. 
BeMd,  UMd.  Wik.  Urktn  to  me  ! 

Glory'*  come  down 

Tocrowm 
Tkif  trithrt  irilk  me : 
Bright  hrraci  in  lailatg  ioMiMr  tpkt^i, 

I'irftie't  rternal  rprmg, 

By  makiiis;  Time  their  kiig. 
Set,  they're  bryond  time  mtr'd; 
Yet,  in  their  lore  to  human  good. 
In  which  ettate  thrmtflret  onct  ttood, 
Tkey  all  dettmd  to  hart  their  worth 
Shifte  (o  imitation /orth  ; 
And  by  their  motion,  light,  and  loM, 
To  ihew  how  ajler-timtt  thamld  moff. 

[^Then  the  Matipiert  deteenSng  itt  to  their 
Jtrtt  donee, 

Th€  Second  Song. 
Hak.  [ting*] 

Move  on,  more  on,  be  ttiU  the  $ame. 

You  beaaleout  torn  of  brightneu ; 

ton  add  to  honour  spirit  andfiame. 

If  grace  and  whiteneii ; 
Yon  whote  every  little  motion 
ftsji  leant  itrictneu  more  derotion. 


H-TEUPLE  UA3aUC. 


153 


Every  pace  of  that  high  tvorth 
It  treads  a  fair  example  forth. 
Quickens  a  virtue,  makes  a  story 
To  your  onm  heroic  glory ; 
May  your  three-times-thrice  blest  number, 
Raise  meritfrom  his  ancietU  slumber.' 
Move  on,  move  on,  8[C. 
[  Then  they  order  tkemielvei  for  their  second 
dance,  after  which 


The  Third  Song. 
HAB._[«ngO 
See,  nhitherfale  hath  Ud  you,  lamps  of  honour. 
For  goodness  brings  her  oten  reward  upon  her  ; 
Look,  tarn  your  eyes,  and  then  conclude  commending, 
And  say  you've  lost  no  morth  by  your  descending ; 
Behold,  a  heaven  about  you,  spheres  more  plenty, 
Therefor  one  Luna  here  shines  ten,  and  for  one  Fenut 

tn-enty. 
Then,  heroes,  double  bath  your  fame  and  light. 
Each  choose  hti  star,  and  full  adorn  this  night. 
j.^     [^/{t  nihich  the  Masquers  make  choice  of  their  ladies 
and  dance.    Time  re-entering,  thus  closes  all. 
Time.  The  morning  gray 
Bids  come  away; 
Every  lady  should  begin 
To  take  her  chamber,  for  the  stars  are  in. 

{_Then  making  his  honour  to  the  ladies. 
Live  long  the  miracles  of  times  and  years, 
Till  witli  those  heroes  you  sU  fix'd  in  spheres  ! 


THE 


WORLD  TOST  AT  TENNIS. 


-A  Courtly  Masque :    The  Deuice  called,  The  World  tost  at 

Tennis,    As  it  hath  beene  diuers  times  Presented  to  thfi  Content' 

ment  qf  many  Noble  and  Worthy  Spectators :  By  the  Prince  his 

Seruants. 

w       sj     J     *  (Tho:Middleton\ 
Inuented  and  set  \  ^  \^  ^^^^ 

(  William  Rowley 


doume,  By 


) 


London  printed  by  George  Purslowe,  and  are  to  be  sold  at  Christ 
.  4to. 

In  all  the  copies  of  this  Masque  which  I  have  seen,  a  por- 
tion of  the  letter-press  has  been  cut  off  from  the  bottom  of 
the  title-page  by  tne  binder.  Langbaine  (Ace.  of  Engl.  Dram, 
Poets,  p.  374)  ffives  to  it  the  date  1620 :  and  so  the  Biographia 
Dramatica,  which  adds  that  it  was  entered  on  the  book  of  the 
Stationers'  Company  July  4,  in  that  year. 


VOL.  V. 


THE  EPISTLE  DEDICATORY. 


TO  TBB  TBULT  KOBLE 

CHARLES  LORD  HOWARD,  BA.BO!t  or  Efptmoham, 


Tub  Rioiit  Uonouiulblk  MARY  LADY  BFFINGBAH, 

aUtil  Dm^lMrfflU  trmlfgrnrtuumdj-KiidomiSiK'Vu.l.liLli 
COCE  *  me,  Kaiglil,  lard  Uafar  ^IkU  CUf,  tnul  Lanl  Gtntraf 
rflkt  Mililary  t'rret*- 

To  whom  more  properly  may  art  prefer 
Workfl  nf  this  nature,  which  are  high  and  rare* 
Fil  (o  ticllght  K  prince's  eye  and  ear, 
Than  to  ihe  hands  of  auch  a  worthy  pair? 
Imagine  this — mix'd  with  delight  and  state, 

Dcinfi  then  an  cnteriainment  for  the  best — 
Vour  iiutil«  nuptials  coincs  to  celebrate  ; 

And  ihtiugh  it  fall  short  of  the  day  and  feast 
Of  your  iiioit  iiacred  and  united  loves. 
Lot  none  uny  thertforo  it  untimely  moves  : 
It  can,  I  hope,  come  out  of  season  never 
Til  find  your  joys  new — as  at  first,  for  ever. 

Moat  ropectAilly  devoted 

To  both  your  Honours, 

TllO.   MtDDt^TOX.       — 


To  the  weil-toiahifig,  well-readittg  Understander, 

weU-under standing  Reader, 

Simplicity  S.P.D. 


After  most  hearty  commendations,  my  kind  and 
unknown  friends,  trusting  in  Phoebus  your  under- 
standings are  all  in  as  good  health  as  Simplicity's 
was  at  the  writing  hereof;  this  ia  to  certify  you 
further,  that  this  short  and  small  treatise  that  fol- 
lows, called  a  Maiqw,  the  device  further  intituled 
The  World  lost  at  J'fnuM— how  it  will  be  now  loased 
in  the  world,  I  know  not — a  toy  brought  to  the 
press  rather  by  the  printer  than  the  poet,  who 
requested  an  epistle  for  bis  pass,  to  satisfy  his  per- 
users how  hitherto  he  hath  behaved  himself.  First, 
for  his  conception,  he  was  begot  in  Brainford,* 
born  on  the  bank-side  of  Helicon,  brought  up 
amongst  noble  gentle  commons  and  good  scholars 
of  all  sorts,  where,  for  his  time,  he  did  good  and 
honest  service  beyond  the  small  seas :  he  was  fair- 
spoken,  never  accused  of  scurrilous  or  obscene 
language,  a  virtue  not  ever  found  in  scenes  of  the 
like  condition ;  of  as  honest  meaning  reputed,  as 
hia  words  reported ;  neither  too  bitterly  taxing,  nor 
too  soothingly  telling,  the  world's  broad  abuses ; 
moderately  merry,  as  senlentiously  serious ;  never 
condemned  but  for  his  brevity  in  speech,  ever 
wishing  bis  tale  longer,  to  be  assured  he  would 
continue  to  so  good  a  purpose.     Having  all  these 


tinndsomc  qualittet  simply,  and  no  oilier  com- 
pounded with  knavery,  there  is  great  hope  he  shall 
pass  Btill  by  the  fair  way  of  good  report,  ]>erBevering 
in  those  lionest  courses  nhich  may  become  the  son 
of  Simplicity,  who,  though  he  be  now  in  a  masque, 
yet  is  his  face  apparent  enough.  And  so,  loving 
cousins,  having  no  news  to  send  you  at  this  time, 
but  that  Deceit  is  entering  upon  you,  whom  I  pray 
you  have  a  care  to  avoid ;  and  this  notice  1  can 
give  you  of  him, —there  are  some  six  or  eight 
pages  before  him,  the  Lawyer  and  the  Devil  behind 
him.     In  this  care  I  leave  you,  not  leaving  to  be 

Your  kind  and  loving  kinemaD, 

SiMPtlCITI. 


This  our  device  we  do  not  call  a  play, 
Because  ne  break  the  stage's  laws  to -day 


Hath  hit  delight  home  in  the  n 

Thalia's  prize  ;  Melpomene's  ead  style 

Hath  shook  the  tragic  hanil  another  while ; 

The  Muse  of  History  hath  caught  your  eyes. 

And  she  [that]  cliaunis  the  pastoral  psalteries: 

We  now  lay  claim  to  none,  yet  all  present, 

Seeking  out  pleasure  to  find  your  content. 

You  shall  perceive,  by  what  comes  first  in  sight. 

It  was  intended  for  a  royal  night : 

There's  one  hour's  words,  the  rest  in  songs  ;ind 

dances ; 
Lauds  no  man's  own,  no  man  himself  advances. 
No  man  is  lifted  but  by  other  hands ; 
Say  he  could  leap,  he  lights  but  where  he  stands  : 
Such  is  our  fate ;  if  good,  much  good  may't  do  you  I 
If  not,  sorry  we'll  lose  our  labours  wi'  you. 


WORLD  TOST  AT  TENNIS. 


An  IxDUCTiOR  to  the  Matque prepared/or  hiiMajesly'i 
Entertainment  at  Denmark- Hmae. 


Enter  Ric 


D  and  St.  James's. 


St.  Jam.  Why,  Richmond,  Richmond,  nhy  art  so 
heavy  ? 

Rich.  I  have  reason  enough  for  that,  good, 
aaiDted  sister;  am  I  not  built  ivith  stone — fair, 
large,  and  free  stone — some  pan  covered  with  lead 

St.Jam.  All  this  is  but  a  light-headed  under- 
standing now ;  I  mean,  why  so  melancholy  ?  thou 
lookest  muBtily,  methinks. 

Rich-  Do  I  sof  and  yet  I  dwell  in  sweeter  air 
than  you,  sweet  St.  James  :  how  three  days  warmiDg 
has  spirited  you !  you  have  sometimes  your  vaca- 
tions as  other  of  your  friends  have,  if  you  call 
yourself  to  mind. 

St.  Jam.  Thou  never  sawest  my  new  gallery  and 
my  tennis- court,  Richmond. 

Rich.  No,  but  1  heard  of  it,  and  from  mtience  it 

St.  Jam,  Why,  from  whence  came  it  ? 
Rich.  Nay.lawfully  derived,  from  the  brick-kilns, 
as  thou  didst  tbyseIC 


164 


D  TOST  4T  TEXXIS. 


St.  Jam.  Thou  breedett  crickeU,  I  think,  and  that 
will  serve  for  the  anagram  to  a  critic.  Come,  I 
knon  thy  grief; 

Tliou  fear'st  that  our  late  rival,  Denmark-House, 
Will  take  from  our  regard,  and  vre  shall  want 
The  noble  presence  of  our  princely  mailer 
In  his  BO  frequent  visitation, 
Which  we  were  wont  so  fully  to  enjoy. 

Rich.  And  is  not  that  a  cause  of  sorrow  then? 

St.  Jam.  Rather  a  cauie  of  joy,  that  we  enjojr 
So  fair  a  fellowship.     Denmark  !  why,  she's 
A  stalely  palace  and  majestical, 
Ever  of  courtly  breeding,  but  of  late 
Built  up  unto  a  royal  height  of  state. 
Rounded  with  noble  prospects;  by  her  side 
The  silver-footed  Thamesis  doth  slide. 
As,  though  more  faintly,  Richmond,  does  by  thee. 
Which  I,  denied  to  touch,  can  only  see. 

EtOer  DsHHAUc-HooB. 
Rich.  Who's  this  ? 
St.  Jam.  Tib  she  herself,  i'faith ;  cornea  with 

DsK.-H.  Ye're  welcome,  most  nobly  welcome ! 

St.  Jau.  Hark  you  now,  Richmond ;  did  not  I 
tell  thee  'twas 
A  royal  house  7 

Dem.-H.  Why,  was  there  any  doubt 
or  OUT  kind  gratulation  ?  1  am  proud 
Only  to  be  in  fellowship  with  you, 
Co-mate  and  servant  to  so  great  a  master. 

St.  Jam.  That's  Richmond's  fear  thou'lt  rob  us 
both.  ihoH  hnst  such  an  enticing  face  of  thine  own. 

Dek.-H.  O  let  not  that  be  any  difference! 
When  wc  do  serve,  let  us  be  ready  for't. 
And  ClU'd  at  his  great  pleasure  j  the  round  year 


In  her  circumfereiit  arms  will  fold  us  all. 


And  give  us  all  employment  seasonable. 


la 


I  for  colder  hours,  when  the  bleak  air 


Bites  with  a 


tooth :  when 


has  sear'd. 


I 


And  autumn  all  discolour'd,  laid  all  fallow, 

Pleasure  taken  house  and  dwells  within  doors, 

Then  shall  my  towers  smoke  and  comely  shew : 

But  when  again  tlic  fresher  mom  appears. 

And  the  soft  spring  renews  her  velvet  head, 

St.  James's  take  my  blest  inhabitants, 

For  she  can  better  entertain  them  then, 

In  larger  grounds,'  in  park,  sports,  and  delights : 

Yet  a  third  season,"  with  the  western  oars, 

Calls  op  to  Richmond,  when  the  high-heated  year 

Is  in  her  solsticy ;  then  she  affords 

More  sweeter -breathing  air,  more  bounds,  more 

pleasures ; 
The  hounds'  loud  music  to  the  flying  stag. 
The  feaiher'd  talented  to  the  falling  bird, 
The  bowman's  twelve-score  prick*'  even  at  the  door. 
And  to  these  I  could  add  a  hundred  more. 
Then  let  not  us  strive  which  shall  be  his  homes, 
But  strive  to  give  him  welcome  when  he  comes. 

Rich,  By  my  troth,  he  shall  be  welcome  to  Rich- 
mond whensoever  he  comes. 

■  /n  larger  groundi,  &c.]  Old  ed. 
"  In  Isr^r  bounds,  in  Packe,  sporta,  delights,  and  graunds." 
In  altering  tUa  corrupted  line  I  have  prefeiied  retaining  the 
word  "grounda"  rather  than  "bounds,"  because  the  lalter 
pretentlj  occurs. 

^  ftt  a  third  ittum]  Old  ed.  "  A  third  Beaton  yet." 
'  faJnfer]   i.  e.  hawk.      Oui  early  poets  repeatedly  uie 
laUnl  tor  taloin 

"  His  laUnli  red  with  blixid  of  martheied  foules." 

Drayton's  OtcU,  1004.  sig.  d  a. 

Set,  too,  the  qulbbie  in  Shskeepeare'a  Lom'j  Labour'i  Lull, 
MI  iv,  *c.  2.  "  ir  a  lattnl  be  a  claw,"  &c. 
'  prick]  i.  e.  the  point  or  mark  in  the  centre  oS  the  buiti. 


IM  TBK  WOtUl  TOST  AT  TKinn*. 

St.  Jim.  And  to  St.  Janwa't,  i'faiib.  al  nidn^hl. 

Deh.-H.  MeaDtime  'lis  fit  I  give  hiin  weleome 
hitiicr ; — 
But  first  to  jrou,  my  royal,  royal'at  guen,* 
And  I  could  wish  your  banquet  were  a  feast  i 
Howe'er.  your  welcome  is  moct  botinteooa. 
Which,  I  beseech  joti.  take  •«  gractooi. — 
To  you,  my  owner,  master,  and  m;  lord. 
Let  me  the  second  unto  you  afford. 
And  then  from  you  to  nil ;  for  it  is  re«i 
That  gives  indeed  what  I  but  seem  to  do. 
I  was  from  ruin  rais'd  by  a  fair  band, 
A  royal  hand ;  in  that  state  let  me  stand 
For  ever  now  :  to  bounty  I  was  bred, 
Hy  cups  fuU-brimm'd  and  my  free  table*  apread 
To  hundreds  daily,  even  witliout  my  door ; 
I  had  an  open  hand  unto  the  poor, 
I  knoTT  1  shall  eo  still ;  then  shall  their  praycra 
Pass  by  the  porter's  Iccys,  clinih  op  each  stain. 
And  knit  and  joint  my  new  re-edified  fratnea, 
That  I  shall  able  be  lo  keep  your  names 
Unto  eternity  :  Denmark-House  shall  keep 
Her  high  name  now  till  Time  doth  fall  asleep 
And  be  no  more.     Meantime,  welcome,  welcome. 
Heartily  welcome  !  but  chiefly  you,  great  sir ; 
Whate'cr  lies  in  my  power,  command  me  all. 
As  freely  as  you  were  at  your  Whitehall.    ^Exemtt. 

'  nfattt  jnfii]  Mif  mnn  Queen  Anne;  but  more  pro- 
bablr,  I  thioli.  bei  brother,  the  king  of  Denmirk,  wba  Tinted 
Emiiad  tvicr,  in  160S  and  in  ISU.  "  In  tbe  reign  of  King 
Junes  I-  the  bcnuc  before  ai  [Somenet-hDiue]  became,  Ipw 
facSo,  B  rofal  midence  on  the  part  of  the  Queen,  and  even 
changed  ill  aame  \  and  it  appean  that  her  Majealr  repaired 
it,  at  her  own  chaiw,  for  the  reception  of  her  brother  Chris- 
dan  IV.,  kia|t  of  Denmark,  wbo  liiiied  England  k.a.  1606, 
frnn  which  time  it  is  said  that  the  Queen  affected  to  call  it 
Dtmmark-Himit."  CuHalia,  P.  IF.  p.  63,  b;  Peggt ',  who,  arter 
■on  on  ibis  lubjecl,  chooses  to  rely  on  tbe  statement  of  the 


E  WORLD  TOST  AT  TENNIS. 


A  COURTLY  MASQUE,  &c. 


Enter  a  Soldier  and  a  Schvlar. 


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

eom- 


ScHO.  Soldier,  ta-ra-ra-r 
lookest  3s  if  thou  hadst  lost  i 

Sol.  No,  but  I  have  lost 
you  take  me  a  tnaiinding'  but 
manding,  let  'em  shew  me  the  House  of  Correction. 

ScHo.  Why,  thou  wert  not  maunding,  wert  thou? 
there's  martial  danger  in  that,  believe  it. 

Sol.  No,  sir ;  but  1  was  bold  to  shew  myself  to 
some  of  my  old  and  familiar  acquaintance,  but 
being  disguised  with    my  wants,    there's    nobody 

ScBo.  Faith,  and  that's  the  worst  disguise  a  man 
can  walk  in ;  thou  wert  belter  have  appeared  drunk 
in  good  cloilies,  much  better:  there's  no  super- 
fluities shame  a  man,  —  as  to  be  over-brave,**  over- 
bold, over -swearing,  over -lying,  over- whoring; 
these  add  still  to  his  repute  :  'tis  the  poor  indi- 
gence, the  want,  the  lank  deficiency,  —  as  when  a 

continuslon  of  Stow"*  Survgy  of  Lonion  —  thai  on  Shrove- 
Tuesday.  1616,  Queen  Anne  having  fcnsled  King  Jaiaet  at 
Somerset. House,  he  then  changed  il(  Dsme,  and  appointed  it 
to  be  Ibenceforlh  called  Denmark- Uoiue,  p.  So;  see  also 
Nichols's  Pr*g,  ^f  K.  Jama,  vol.  iii.  p.  233. 

WhcD  this  Maaque    was   originally  produced   aa  a  royal 


I  kno 
dedicated  were  not  i 
(by  Btydges).  vol,  iv. 
an  evident  alluBian  ii 


The  o 


1  102C 
p.  277.    Towards  the 
tbe  wars  in  the  Pslai 


t  ColHcii 


1  Pf/reg 


168 


TBI  WOkLD  TOST  AT  TZSBU. 


nun  cannot  be  brsTe,  dares  not  be  Md,  ia  afraid 
to  awear,  wants  tnaietenuice  far  a  lie,  and  tnoney 
i>  give  a  nhore  ■  supper;  thii  is  poaprr 

MM  $alU  ett :  Day,  he  shall  never  be  rich  with 
;  ncitlier,  nhicb  it  anotber  wonder,  because 
I  BMnj  b^^ars  are  rich. 

Sol.  O  caniiM  faetmlia .'  (kis  dog-eloquence  of 
thine  will  make  thee  somewhat  one  day,  scholar : 
couldst  tliou  turn  but  this  prose  into  rhyme,  there 
were  a  pitiful  living  to  be  picked  out  of  it. 

ScHO.   I  could  nuke  ballads  for  a.  Deed. 

Sol,  Very  well,  sir,  and  I'll  warrant  thee  tbou 
shall  never  want  subject  lo  write  of:  one  hangs 
himself  to-day,  another  drowns  himself  to. morrow, 
a  sergeant  stabbed  next  day ;  here  a  pettifogger  »' 
the  pillory,  a  bawd  in  the  cart's  note,  and  a  pander 
in  the  tail ;  Aic  antier,  kiec  rir,  fuhiont,  6ct)oas, 
felonies,  fooleries ;  —  a  hundred  havens  has  the 
balladmonger  to  uafllc  at,  and  new  ones  stilt  daily 
discovered. 

Scuo.  Prithee,  soldier,  no  further  this  way;    1 

rrticipate  more  of  Heraclitua  than  Deraocritut ; 
could  rather  weep  the  sins  of  the  people  than 
aing  'em. 

Sol.  Shall  1  set  thee  down  a  course  to  live  f 
ScBO.  Faith,  a  coarse  living,  1  think,  must  serve 
my  turn ;  but  why  hast  thou  not  fomid  out  thioe 
own  yet  7 

Sol.  Tush,  that's  resolv'd  on,  beg  ;  when  there's 

I  shall  be  brave  again,  hugg'd  and  belov'd : 

We  are  like  winier-garmencs,  in  the  height 

And  [the]  hot  blood  of  summer,  put  off,  thrown  by 

For  moths'  meat,  never  so  much  as  thought  on; 

Till  the  drum  strikes  up  siorms  again,  and  then. 

Come,  my  well-lined  soldier,  (with  valour, 


fraia 
oney  J 


THE  WOULD  TOST  AT  TENNIS. 


16! 


Not  valure,)*  keep  me  warm  ;  O,  I  love  thee  ! 

We  shall  be  Irimm'd  and  very  well  briish'd  ihcn  ; 

If  we  be  fac'd  with  fur  'tia  tolerable. 

For  we  may  pillage  then  and  steal  our  prey. 

And  not  be  hang'd  for't;  when  the  least  fingering 

In  peaceful  summer  chokes  us.     A  soldier, 

At  the  best,  is  even  but  the  forlorn  hope 

Unto  his  country,  sent  desperately  out, 

And  never  more  expected ;  if  he  come. 

Peace's  war,  perhaps,  the  law,  providently 

Has  provided  for  him  some  house  or  lands, 

May  be  suspens'd  in  wrangliog  controversy, 

And  he  be  hir'd  to  keep  possession. 

For  there  may  be  swords  drawn ;  he  may  become 

The  abject  second  lo  some  stinking  baily  : 

O,  let  biro  serve  the  pox  6rst,  and  die  a  gentleman  ! 

Come,  1  know  my  ends,  but  would  fain  provide  for 

ihee; 
Canst  thou  make 

Scuo.  What  ?  I  have  no  handicraft,  man. 

Sol.    Cuckolds,   make    cuckolds ;    'tis  a  pretty 
trade 
[n  a  peaceful  city;  'tis  women's  work,  man, 
And  they're  good  paymasters. 

.ScHO.   I  dare  not ;   'tis  a  work 
Of  supererogation,  and  the  church 
Forbids  it. 

Sol.  Prithee,  what  is  Latin  for 
.\  cuckold,  scholar  ?  1  could  never  learn  yet. 

ScHo.  Faith,  the  Latins  have  no  proper  word  for 


Thaie 


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


•  valsrt]  Or  rather  telan 


170 


THt  VOKLD  TOtr  AT  TtXITIS. 

D  scholar! ; 


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

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

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

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

ScHO.  ni  make  it  proof  from  your  experience: 
A  commander's  a  commander,  captain  captain; 
But  having  no  soldiers,  where'*  the  command  t 
Such  are  we,  all  doctors,  no  disciples  now ; 
Every  man's  his  own  teacher,  none  learns  of  others. 
You  have  not  heard  of  our  mechanic  rabbies. 
That  shall  dispute  in  their  own  tongues  backwird 

and  forward 
With  all  the  learned  fathers  of  Oie  Jews  r 

Sol.  Mechanic  rabbies*  what  might  tboae  be  f 

ScHO.  I'll  sheif  you,  sir — 
And  they  are  men  are  daily  to  be  seen  — 
There's  rabbi  Job  a  venerable  silk-weaver, 
Jehu  a  throwster'  dwelling  i'  the  Spttalfields, 
There's  rabbi  Ahiroelceh  a  leamtKl  cobbler. 
Rabbi  Lazaru*  a  superslichious*  tailor; 
These  shall  hold  up  their  shuttles,  needles,  awls. 
Against  the  gravest  Levite  of  the  land. 
And  give  no  ground  neither. 

Sol.  That  I  believe: 
They  have  no  ground  for  any  thing  they  do. 

Scito.  You  understand  right ;  and  these  men,  bj 
practique, 

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


J.prrpar 


THE  WOEID  TOST  AT  TENNIS. 


Have  got  the  theory  of  all  the  arts 

At  their  lingers'  ends,  and  in  ihal  they'll  live  ; 

Howe'er  they'll  die  I  know  not,  for  they  change 

Sol.  This  i»  strange;  how  come  they  to  attain 
this  knonledge  1 

ScHo.  As  boys  learn  arithmetic, —  practice  with 
counters. 
To  reckon  sums  of  silver  ;  so,  with  their  tools, 
They  come  to  grammar,  logic,  rhetoric, 
And  all  the  sciences ;  as,  for  example, 
The  devout  weaver  sits  viithin  his  loom, 
And  thus  he  makes  a  learned  syllogism, — 
His  woof  the  major  and  his  narp  the  minor. 
His  shuttle  then  the  brain  and  firm  conclusion, 
Makes  him  a  piece  of  stuff  that  Arisioile, 
Ramus,  nor  all  the  logicians  can  take  a'  pieces. 

Sol,  This  has  some  likelihood. 

Scuo.  So  likewise,  by 
His  deep  instructive  and  his  mystic  tools, 
The  tailor  comes  to  be  rhetorical : 
First,  on  the  spread  velvet,  satin,  stuff,  or  cloth, 
He  chalks  out  a  circumferent  periphrase," 
That  goes  about  the  bush  where  the  thief  stands; 
Then  comes  his  shears  in  shape  of  an  eclipsis. 
And  takes  away  (he  other's'  too  long  tail ; 
By  his  needle  he  understands  ironia. 
That  with  one  eye  looks  two  ways  at  once  ; 
Metonymia  ever  at  his  fingers'  ends; 
Some  ttall  his  pickadilM  synecdoche, 
But  I  think  rather  that  should  be  his  yard, 
Being  but  pars  pro  loto ;  and  b 


1  by  metaphor 


'  ptrlphrait^  Old  ed.  "  Paraplin 


im]  Old  ed.  " 
-■i]  Old  ed.  " 


I  pictadiU]  i.  e.  collir  with  at 


m 


ms  WOKLD  TOiT  AT  TESVU. 


All  know  the  cellaridge  under  the  sbop-bovd 

He  calls  hi*  hell,  Dot  that  it  is  ■  place 

Of  spirits'  abode,  but  that  from  that  abyss 

Is  no  recovery  or  redempiion 

To  any  owner's  hand,  KJiBtever  foils. 

I  could  run  further,  Hcre't  not  tedious. 

And  place  the  stiff-toed  cobbler  iu  his  form ; 

But  let  them  mend  themselves,  for  yet  all's  naught, 

They  now  learn  only  never  to  be  taught. 

Sol-  Let  them  alone ;  bow  shall  we  learn  to  live  ? 

ScHO.  Without  book  is  most  perfect,  for  with 
'em 
We  shall  hardly  :  thou  may'at  keep  a  fence-school, 
Tis  a  noble  science. 

Sol.  I  had  rather  be  i'  the  crown-office : 
Tliou  mayesi  keep  school  too,  and  do  good  aerrice, 
To  bring  up  chUdrcn  for  the  next  age  better. 

Sciio.  'Tis  a  poor  living  that's  pick'd  out  of  boys' 
buttocks. 

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


yci. 
Hftrk,  what  sounds  are  these  f 


IMus 


Ther 


Pallas  deteendt, 

.  Ha  \  there's  somewhat  more  i 
H  in  sight  a  presence  glorious,^ 
e  thar  ' 


Sol.  An  amazing  one! 
Scholar,  if  ever  thou  couldst  conjure,  speak  now. 

Sciio.  In  name  of  all  tlie  deities,  what  art  thou  t 
Thy  shino  is  more  than  sub-celestial, 
'Tis  at  llic  loast  heavenly -angelical. 

P*i.  A  patroness  unto  ye  both,  yo  ignorant 

Mglvrimul  Old  ed,  "glorious 


K  WORLD  TOST  AT  TEN  SIS. 


173 


mdeaerving  ravourites  of  my  fame. — 
You  are  a  soldier ! 

Sol.   Since  these  arms  could  wield  arms, 
I  have  profess'd  il,  brightest  deily, 

Pai,.  To  thee  I  am  Bellooa.— Vo.i  are  a  aeholar  ? 

ScHo.  In  that  poor  pilgrimage,  since  I  could  go, 
I  hitherto  have  n-alk'd. 

Pal.  To  thee  I  am  Minerva  ; 
Pallas  to  both,  goddess  of  arts  and  arms, 
Of  arms  and  arts,  for  neither  have  precedence, 
For  he's  the  complete  man  partakes  of  both, 
The  soul  of  arts  join'd  with  the  flesh  of  valour. 
And  he  alone  participates  with  me  : 
Thou  art  no  soldier  unless  a  scholar, 
Nor  thou  a  scholar  unless  a  soldier, 
Ve've  noble  breedings  both,  worthy  foundationB, 
And  will  ye  build  up  rotten  battlementB 
On  such  fair  groundsels?  that  will  ruin  all. 
Lay  wisdom  on  thy  valour,  on  thy  wisdom  valour. 
For  these  are  mutual  co-incidents. — 
What  seeks  the  soldier? 

Sol.  My  maintenance. 

Pal.  Lay  by  thine  arms  and  take  the  city  then. 
There's  the  full  cup  and  cap  of  maintenance. — 
And  your  grief  is  want  too  t 

ScHO.  I  want  all  but  grief 

Pal.  No,  you  want  most  what  most  you  do  pro- 
fess i 
Where  read  you  to  be  ricji  was  happiest? 
He  had  no  bay  from  Phffibus,  nor  from  rae, 
That  ever  wrote  so,  no  Minerva  in  him; 
My  priests  have  taught  that  poverty  is  safe, 
Sweet  and  secure,  for  nature  gives  man  nothing 
At  his  birth  ;  when  life  and  earth  are  wedded, 
There's  neither  basin  held  nor  dowry  given ; 
At  parting  nor  is  any  garner  slor'd. 


Wardrobe  or  warehouse  kept,  for  their  retom : 
Ulerefore  ihall,  then,  man  count  hia  Dijriadi 
Of  gold  and  silver  idols,  since  ihriAy  nainTC 
Will  nothing  lend  but  she  will  have't  again, 
And  life  and  labour  for  her  interest  T 
My  priests  do  teach, — seek  thou  thyself  within. 
Make  thy  Riiad  wealthy,  thy  CMiscience  knowing,' 
And  those  shall  keep  thee  company  from  hence. 
Or  would  you  wish  to  emulate  the  gods. 
Live,  as  you  may  imagine,  careless  and  free. 
With  joys  and  pleasures  crown'd,  and  thosefterttal  ? 
This  were  to  far  exceed  'em  ;  for  while  earth  last*. 
The  deities  themselves  abate  their  fulness. 
Troubled  with  cries  of  ne'er- con  ten  ted  man  ; 
Man  then  to  seek  and  find  it ;   all  that  hope 
Fled  when  Pandora's  fatal  box  flew  ope. 

Sol,  Lady  divine,"  there's  yet  a  competence 
Which  we  come  short  of. 

Pal.  Thai  may  as  well  be  caus'd 
From  your  own  negligence  as  our  slow  blessings; 
But  I'll  prefer  you  to  a  greater  power. 
Even  Jupiler  himself,"  father  and  king  of  gods, 
With  whom  I  may  well  join  in  just  compUuni. 
These  Uller  ages  have  despoii'd  my  fame ; 
Minerva's  slurs  are  all  ruin'd  now  : 
I  had  a  long-ador'd  Palladium, 
Offerings  and  incense  fuming  on  my  shrine ; 
Rome  held  me  dear,  and  old  Troy  gave  roe  wof- 

All  Greece  renown'd  me,  till  the  Ida-prize 
Join'd  me  with  wrathful  Juno  to  destroy  'em. 
For  we  are  better  ruin'd  than  profan'd: 

'  rvneinci  tm*™^]  Old  (d.  "  knotting  conscience." 

•■  Ladj,  dimu]  Old  ed.  ■■  Diuiiie  Lady.'' 

•  Umti(fl  This  word  should,  perhaps,  be  thiomi  out. 


THE  WORLD  TOST  AT  TBKKtS. 

Now  let  the  latter  ages  count  the  gains 
They  got  by  wanton  Venus'  sacrifice  ; 
But  I'll  invoke  great  Jupiter. 

ScMo.  Do,  goddess, 
And  re-erect  the  ruins  of  thy  fame. 
For  poesy  can  do  it. 

Pal.  Ahitonaiil," 
Imperial-crown'd,  and  thunder-armed  Jove, 
Unfold  thy  fiery  veil,  the  flaming  robe 
And  superficies  of  thy  better  brightness  ; 
Descend  from  (hine  orbicular  chariot, 
Listen  the  plaints  of  thy  poor  votaries  I 
'Tis  Pallas  calls,  thy  daughter,  Jupiter, 
Ta'en  from  thee  by  the  Leranian  Mulcibcr, 
A  midwife-god  to  the  delivery 
Of  thy  most  sacred,  fertile,  teeming  brain. — [il/unc. 
Hark! 

These  sounds  proclaim  his  willing  sweet  descent; 
If  not  full  blessings,  expect  some  content. 

Jupiter  descends 

Jlt,  What  would  our  daughter? 

Pal.  Just-judging  Jove, 
Y-ineditate"  the  suit  of  humble  mortals. 
By  whose  large  sceptre  all  their  fates  are  sway'd, 
Adverse  or  auspicious. 

Jve.  'Tis  more  than  Jupiter 
Can  do  to  please  'em  :  unsatisfied  man 
Has  in  his  ends  no  end ;  not  hell's  abyss 
Is  deeper-guird  than  greedy  avarice  ; 
Ambition  finds  no  mountain  high  enough 
For  his  aspiring  foot  to  stand  upon  : 

"  .*WMi>aB(]  i.  e.  thundering  from  on  high. 
'   r-mdltalt]  The  light  reading,  1  presume ;  old  ed.  "  I 
meditate." 


17fi 


tAb  wobld  tost  X 


One  drinks  out  all  his  bleitings  into  lurfnu, 
Aoother  throns  'em  out  as  all  were  his. 
And  the  gods  bound  for  prodigal  supply : 
What  is  he  lives  content  in  any  kind! 
That  long-incensed  nature  is  now  ready 
To  turn  all  back  into  the  fruitless  chaos. 

Pal.  These  are  mo  noble  virtues,  tny  dread  ai 
Both  arts  and  arms,  well-wishers  unto  Pallas. 

Jcr.  How  can  it  be  but  they  have  both  abua'd, 
And  would,  for  their  ills,  make  our  justice  guilty  t 
Shew  them  their  shames,  Minerva  ;  what  the  Tonne 

.0,1,1.  '^  ' 

In  her  unstable  youth,  did  then  produce ; 
She  should  grow  graver  now,  more  sage,  more  wise, 
Know  concord  and  the  harmony  of  goodncM ; 
But  if  her  old  age  strike  with  harsher  notes. 
We  may  then  think  she  is  too  old,  and  dotes. 
Strike,  by  white  art,  a  thcomsntic  power. 
Magic  divine — not  the  devil's  horror. 
But  the  delicious  music  of  the  spheres — 
The  thrice-lhree  Worthies  summon  hack  to  life ; 
There  let  'em  see  what  arts  and  arms  commixt — 
For  they  had  both — did  in  the  world's  broad  ftoe: 
Those  that  did  propagate  and  beget  their  fames. 
And  for  posterity  left  lasting  names. 
Pal.  I  shall,  great  Jupiter. 

[Munc,  and  tk'tt  Song  at  an  invocation  to  thf 
Nine  MuKi,  mho,  in  the  linif,  are  diieoverrd, 
nith  the  Nine  WorthieM,  on  the  upper-ttaee  :"* 
lorrard  the  concltuion  they  descend,  each  nor- 
thy  led  by  a  Muse,  the  mottjpTojper  end  per- 
tinent to  the  pernm  0/ the  Worthy,  at  Titt- 
paicHORE  mth  David,  Ubania  irifA  Josbuii, 


Tlu:  Ftrit  Song. 

Muses,  usher  in  those  stales,' 
And  amongst  'em  choose  your  mates ; 
There  wants  not  one,  nor  one  to  spare. 
For  thrice  three  both  your  numbers  are: 
Learning's  mistress  /air  Calliope, 
Load  Euterpe,  sneel  Terpsichore, 
Soft  Thalia,  sad  Melpomene, 
Pleasant  Clio,  large  Erato, 
High  aspiring-ey'd  Urania, 
Honey-lingued*  Polyhymnia, 
Leave  amhile  your  Thespian  tprings. 
And  usher  in  those  more  than  kings ; 
We  call  them  fVorthies,  'tis  their  due. 
Though  long  time  dead,  still  litre  by  you. 
[Enter  at  the  three  several  doors  the  Nine 
Worthies,  three  after  three,  whom,  as  they 
enter,  pAttAs  describes. 
Pal.  These  three  were  Hebrews  ; 

This  noble  duke*  was  he  at  whose  command 

Hyperion  rein'd  his  fiery  coursers  In, 

And  fixed  stood  over  Mount  Gilboa; 

This  Maitathias'  son,"  the  Maccabee, 

Under  whose  arm  no  less  than  worthies  fell ; 

This  the  most  sweet  and  sacred  psalmograph  :' 

These,  of  another  sort,  of  ranch  less  knowledge, 

'  italei]  i.  e.  petion*  of  digilily. 

■  Hmey-lingutd ]  i.e.  Honej-lcngued. 

'  duktl  i.  e.  general,  commander. 

■'  And  in  lyke  wyie  dakt  JosHt  the  gcnle." 
Hawei'B  Pailime  ef  PUaiart,  aig.  C  c  ii.  ed, 


178  THE  WOULD  TOST  AT  TESItlt. 

Little  less  valour,  a  Macedonian  Lorn,* 

Whom  afterwards  the  world  could  scarcely  bear 

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

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

And  lo  the  present  more  familiar. 

Great  Charles  of  France^  and  the  bra»e  Bulloin 

duke;* 
And  ihia  is  Britain's  glory,*  king'd  thirteen  times. — 
YeVe  fair  aspects :  more  to  express  Jove's  power. 
Shew  you  have  motion  for  a  jovial  hour. 

[The  Nine  Worthiei  dance,*'  and  then  exetml, 
Jup.  Were  not  these  precedents  for  all  future 


agei 


ScHo.    But  none  attains  their  glories,    king  of 
stars ; 
These  are  the  fames  are  follon'd  and  pursu'd. 
But  never  overtaken. 

Jup.  The  fate's  below. 
The  god's  arras  are  not  ehorten'd,  nor  do  we  shine 
With  fainter  influence ;  who  conquers  now 
Makes  it  his  tyrant's  prize,  and  not  his  honour'si 
Abusing  all  the  blessings  of  the  gods  ; 
Ijcarnings  and  arts  are  theories,  no  practiques, 
To  understand  is  all  they  study  to ; 
Men  strive  to  know  too  much,  too  little  do. 

Sol.  Plaints  arc  not  ours  alone,  great  Jupiter ; 

"  a  Maadaiiian  torn]  i.  e.  Alexander  the  GreiL 

•  TVpy'i  be4l  leUier]  i.  o.  Hector. 

r  Charlti  ^  Franai  i.  e.  ChirlemagDe. 
■  BulhiH  duke"]  L  e.  Oodltey  of  Bouillon. 

*  BHIain'igltiry]  i.e.  Arthur. 

''  Tht  Nine  tforlhiti  dance,  Kc]  Q)i.  (lid  ihe  autbon  ioleDj 
them  ID  dance  with  Ihe  Muieit  but  in  the  preceding  atage- 
direciion  (which  I  hsie  gWcn  i>  it  aiaadi  in  old  cd.)  the 
«  uf  the  laller  ia  not  marked. 


17! 


See,  Time  himself 
Time.  Who  has 
Who  more  wrong'd  than  Ti 


Enter  Jiiitz. 
■omes  weeping. 

!  Time  passes 


With  a  regardleBs  eye  at  best;  the  worst 

Expect  him  with  a  greedy  appetite  ; 

The  landed  lord  looks  for  his  quarter-day. 

The  big-bellied  usurer  for  his  teeming  gold, 

That  brings  him  forth  the  child  of  interest. 

He   that,    beyond    the   bounds   of  heaven's    large 

ble».ing, 
Hath  made  a  fruitless  creature  to  increase. 
Dull  earthen  minerals  to  propagate  ; 
These  only  do  expect  and  entertain  me, 
But  being  come,  they  bend  their  plodding  heads, 
And  while  they  count  their  bags  they  let  me  pass, 
Yet  instant  wish  me  come  about  again  ; 
Would  Time  deserve  their  thanks,  or  Jove  their 

He  must  turn  time  only  to  quarter-days. 

O,  but  my  wrongs  they  arc  innumerable  ! 

The  lawyer  drives  me  off  from  term  to  term, 

Bids  me — and  I  do't — bring  forth  ray  Alethe, 

My  poor  child  Truth,  he  sees  and  will  not  see  her ; 

What  I  could  manifest  in  one  clear  day, 

He  still  delays  a  cloudy  jubilee  : 

The  prodigal  wastes  and  makes  me  sick  with  sur- 


feits . 
The  drunkard,  strong  in  wine, 
And  sets  me  lopsy-turvy  on  n 
Waking  my  silent  passage  in  t 
With  revels,  noise,  and  thundt 
And  snorting  on  my  bright  mi 
And  when  they  think  I  pass  loo  slowly  by, 


night 

clapping  oaths. 


-found  vapo 

r  to  e 

xpel  me, 

out :  ask  'em 

but  V 

hy  they  do 

St  can  speak 

yet  til 

s  can  say, 

to  drive  the 

ime  a 

way. 

oral),  wome 

n  do  hale  me ! 

cssion  on  th 

irche 

eks 

rcular    hours 

day 

,    months. 

ISO  THE  WOBLD 


They  have 
They  Bfflok 
And  he  tha 
I  take  this 
O.  but  the 
I  cannot  aei 
With    all   my  circular    hours,  days,    months,  and 

But  'tis  wip'd  ofTwith  gloss  and  pencilry  ; 
Nothing  so  hateful  as  gray  hairs  and  lime, 
Rather  no  hair  at  all.     'Tis  sin's  autumn  now 
For  those  fair  trees  that  were  more  fairer  cropt, 
Or  they  fall  of  themselves,  or  will  be  lopt : 
Even  Time  itself,  lo  number  all  his  griefs, 
Would  waste  himself  unto  his  ending  date. 
How  many  would  eternity  wish  here, 
And  that  the  sun,  and  time,  and  age,  might  stand. 
And  leave  their  annual  distinction,— 
That  nature  were  bed-rid,  all  motion  sleep! 
Time  having  then  such  foes,  has  cause  to  weep. — 
Redress  it,  Jupiter.  [£xif, 

Jtip.    I   tell  thee,  glorious   daughter,    and   you, 
things 
Shut  up  in  wretchedness,  the  world  knew  once 
His  age  of  happiness,  blessed  times  own'd  him. 
Till  those  two  ugly  ills,  Deceit  and  Pride, 
Made  it  a  perish'd  substance.     Pride  brought  in 
Forgetfulness  of  goodness,  merit,  virtue, 
And  plac'd  ridiculous  officers  in  life. 
Vain-glory,  fashion,  humour,  and  such  toys. 
That  shame  to  be  ptoduc'd  ; 
The  frenzy  of  apparel,  that's  run  mad. 
And  knows  not  wiere  to  settle  :  masculine  painting, 
And  the  five  Starches,  mocking  the  five  senses, 
All  in  their  difierent  and  ridiculous  colours; 
Which,  for  their  apish  and  fantastic  follies, 


THE  WORLD  T08T  AT  TENNIS. 


I 

With 


ofthci 


us,  nntl  will  Tit  'i 


[_Miuic  Mtriking  up  a  light  fantattie  air,  the  Five 
Starches,  While,  Blue,  YelloK,  Green,  and 
Red,  all  properly  habited  to  erpreti  their 
affected  colours,^  come  dancing  in :  and  ajler 
a  ridiculous  tlrain,  White  Starch  challenging 
precedency,  standing  upon  her  right  by  anti- 
quity, out  of  her  just  anger  presents  their 
pride  to  them. 
WjiiTB  S.  What,  no  respect  amongst  yoii  ?  must 

In  your  forgetrul  duties?  jet''  before  me! 
Take  place  of  me  ? — You,  rude,  presumptuous  gos- 
sip, 
Pray,  who  am  I !  not  1  the  primitive  Starch  ? 
You,  blue-ey'd  frokin,*  looks  like  6re  and  brlm- 

You,  caudle- col  our,  much  of  tlie  complexion 
Of  high  Sh  rove-Tuesday  batter,"  yellow-hammer; — 
And  you,  my  tanzy-face,  that  shews  like  pride 
Serv'd  up  in  sorrel-sops,  green-sickness  baggage ;  — 
And  last,  thou  Red  Starch,  that  wear'st  all  thy 

blushes 
Under  thy  cheeks,  looks  like  a  strangled  moon-calf, 
With  all  thy  blood  settled  about  thy  neck, 
The  ensign  of  thy  shame,  if  ihou  hadst  flny, — 
Know  I'm  Starch  Protestant,  thon  Starch  Puritan 
With  the  blue  tiostril,  whose  tongue  lies  i'  thy  nose. 

Blue  S.  Wicked  interpretation! 

Yel.  S.  I  ha'  known 


^  K(]  i.  e.  I 


E.  the  colours  wUitb  they  nffecl ;  com- 


IBS 


THE  womiA  To*T  *T  TtTnca, 


A  fthile-tc'd  hypocriie,  hJtj  unctitj — 

A  jellow  ne'er  came  oc«  Iict — and  tfa'aa  beea 

But  ibc  devil's  pnnk*  not  nglin' ;  m  ber  miad 
Wean  vrltow.  hugi  ■^  if  ber  haabnkd'*  tnde 
CcHild  bear  it,  iherc's  the  spile ;  bat  noce  the  cu 

Wear  ber  own  Hiicn  yellow,  yet  sbe  shews 

Her  love  lo't,  and  makes  him  wear  veltow  boae-* 


OaiEK  S.  I  as  7 
Red  S.  And  I  a 


The  world  can  bring  npoa  u 


J  censures,  all  the  argnoMnts 


e  applied. 


i'  the  colour,  but  tbe  pride. 
Tm  OTHEB  SriWTHES.  Oracle  Yellow! 

[  TJLe  Sl^rciet  damrt,  mul  exttmt. 
Jvr.  Tb««  are  the  rouDgcsi  daughters  of  Deceit^ 
With  which  the  precious  lime  of  life's  begyird, 
Pool'd,    and   abus'd;    111  shew    you   ilra^ht    tbeii 

failtrr. 
Hb  sbspes,  his  labours,  tlial  has  vex'd  the  world 
FroiD  age  to  age, 

And  lost  it  from  his  first  and  simple  stale 
To  ihr  foul  centre  where  it  now  abides: 
Look  back  but  into  times,  bere  shall  be  shewn 
How  manv  strange  removes  the  world  has  known. 
[LomI  Mwnc  aoioidn^,  JcFtTca  Uartt  kit  ttttte .-' 
amd  to  (Aew  lie  itntngt  rrmor^t  of  the  mtrU, 


i  pbrtfttw  aad  oBDopy  uadn  which  the  enMmaari 


THE  WORLD  TOST  AT  TENNIS.  133 

places  ike  orb  whote  Jigurc  it  heart  in  the 
midst  of  the  stage ;  to  which  Simplicity,  &y 
onler  of  time  having  Jirst  access,  enters. 

Pal.  Who's  this,  greal  Jupiter? 

Jup.  Simplicity, 
He  that  had  first  possession  ;  one  that  stumbled 
Upon  tlie  world  and  never  minded  it. 

Siu.  Hah,  hah!  I'll  go  sec  how  the  world  looks 
since  I  slept  aside  from't;  there's  such  heaving  and 
shoving  about  it,  such  toiling  and  moiling; — now  1 
stumbled  upon't  when  I  least  thought  on't.  {Takes 
up  the  orb.'\  Uds  me!  'tis  altered  of  one  side  since 
I  lefl  it:  hah,  there's  a  milkmaid  got  with  child 
since,  methinks ;  what,  and  a  shepherd  forsworn 
himseir?  here's  a  foul  corner :  by  this  light,  Subtlety 
has  laid  an  egg  too,  and  will  go  nigh  to  hatch  a 
lawyer;  this  was  well  foreseen,  I'll  mar  the  fashion 
on't ;  so,  the  egg's  broke,  and  't  has  a  yolk  as  black 
as  buckram.  What's  here  a'  (his  side  ?  O,  a  dainty 
world!  here's  one  a-sealing  with  his  tooth,  and, 
poor  man,  he  has  but  one  in  all ;  I  was  afraid  he 
would  have  left  it  upon  the  paper,  he  was  so 
honestly  earnest.  Here  are  the  reapers  singing, 
I'll  lay  mine  ear  to  'em. 

Enter  Deceit,  like  a  ranger. 
Deceit.  Vender's  Simplicity,  whom  I  hate  deadly. 
Has  held  the  world  too  long ;  he's  but  a  fool, 
A  toy  will  coBen  him  :  if  1  once  fasten  on't, 
I'll  make  It  such  a  nursery  for  hell. 
Planting  black  souls  in't,  it  shall  ne'er  be  fit 
For  Honesty  to  set  her  simples  in.  [^j4side. 


chair  wai  placed,  e 

B.  JoHBon'a  Iforks.  vol,  ii.  p.  334.     Here,  perUapa,  it  mea 

■be  michiag  in  whicb  Jupiter  had  deiceuded :  see  p.  175. 


184 


T  AT  TEKNia. 


SiH.  Whoop,  here's  the  cozeniag'st  rascal  In  a 

Tlie  master- villain  ;  has  the  thunder's  property, 
For  if  he  come  but  near  the  horTest-folkB, 
His  breath's  so  strong  that  he  sours  all  their  bottles. 
If  he  should  but  blow  upon  the  world  now,  the 
stain  would  never  get  out  again;  I  warrant,  if  he 
were  ript,  one  might  find  a  swarm  of  usurers  in  his 
liver,  a  cluster  of  scriveners  in  his  kidneys,  and  his 
very  puddings  stuft  with  bailiffs.  [Aiide. 

Dec.  1  must  speak  fair  to  the  fool.  [Atide, 

Sim.  He  makes  more  near  me.  [.liiide. 

Dec.  'Las,  who  has  put  that  load,  that  carriage, 
On  poor  Simplicity  ?  had  they  no  mercy  ? 
Pretty,  kind,  loving  worm;  come,  let  me  help  it. 

Sim.  Keep  off,  and  leave  your  cogging.^ — Foh, 
how  abominably  he  smells  of  controversies,  schisms, 
and  factions !  niethinks  1  smell  forty  religions  ti 


s  full  o 


eyes  look 
[Atide. 


■nder  thing, 


gether  in  him,  and  ne'er  a  good 
like  false  lights,  cozening  trap-' 
Dec.  The  world,  sweetheart, 
troubles. 
No  match  for  thee ;  thou  art  a 
A  harmless,  quiet  thing,  a  gentle  fool, 
Fit  for  the  fellowship  of  ewea  and  ran 
Go,  take  thine  ease  and  pipe ;  give  me  the  burdi 
The  clog,  the  torment,  the  heart-break,  the  world] 
Here's  for  thee,  lamb,  a  dainty 


Siu.  Pox  a'  your  pipe!   if  I  should  dance  atter 
your  pipe,  1  should  soon  dance  to  the  devil. 

Dec.  I  think  some  serpent,  sure,  has  lick'd  him 

And  given  him  only  crai^  enough  to  keep, 


•  CBgi^il  •■  •■  wheedling. 


^B 

THE  WOBLD  TOST  AT  TENNIS. 

186                 ^ 

And  go  no  farlhcr  with  liitn ;  all  ihe  rest 

1 

1 

1  must 

seek  other  course  ;  for  1  have  learn'd 

or  ray 

infernal  sire  not  to  be  lazy. 

1 

Faint, 

ar  discourag'd,  at  the  tenth  repulse: 

1 

Methinbs  ihai  world  Simplidiy  now  hugs  fast,                           | 

Doesl 

ok  as  ifi  should  be  Deceit's  at  last. 

1 

[/iside,  and  exit.                   1 

Sim. 

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

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

knaver 

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

ainly                 H 

yiUany 

is  infectious,  and  in  the  greater  perse 

nthe                 ■ 

greate 

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

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

Hark. 

the   reapers  begin    to  sing !    they're 

come                   1 

nearer 

niethinka,  too. 

The  SecomI  Song. 
Happy  times  me  live  to  tee, 
WhoM  master  is  Simplicity; 
This  it  the  age  where  blessings  JUm, 
In  joy  we  reap,  in  peace  me  tons ; 
We  do  good  deeds  without  delay. 

i 

We  prmaite  and  me  keep  our  day ; 

^^^1 

We  love  for  virtue,  Ttotfor  nealth. 

We  drink  no  healths,  but  all  for  health  ; 

We  ting,  we  dance,  me  pipe,  we  play. 

Out  work's  continual  holyday  ; 

We  live  in  poor  contented  sort. 

Yet  neither  beg  nor  come  at  court. 

Siu 

These  reapers  have  the  merriest  lives 

they 

haven 

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

tabor, 

and  get  children  with  a  pipe. 

Enter  a  King  tvith  Deceit. 

De 

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

you; 

A    iijii  iwdlfnMtlyi 


IMd^ 


[.*«*■- 


IlVBOilaraf! 


So.  ikn'i  a  I 

I  Jtaow  MK  what  ta  uj  to't. 

KivA.  WkM's  tky  Mae! 

Soi.  Yoa  aisT  raid  it  in  mjt  iookM,  Skiiplidty. 

Kne.  WkM  nak'tt  ibos  wiA  m>  gnu  a  efaarne 
■boutbc*! 
Rcsip  i(«pn>iBe,Mkd  W  bj  fboL 

Suf.  Traik,  that's  tbe  wajr  to  be  TtMU-  Tool  in- 
deed; 
Bat  kliall  I  have  tbe  privilege  to  ibol  freelj  T 

Kiao.  A*  ever  taHiy  had. 

fSiMruciTT  fi(«t  tie  art  l»  King, 

Sim.  I'm  glad  I'ln  rid  on'i. 

Dec.  Pra*.  let  me  ease  your  majesty. 

KiKo.  Tlioa  !  hence, 
Ba*e  kycophani,  Jnainuatirig  hell-hound! 
Lay  not  a  finger  on  it,  as  thou  lov'st 
Th«  itaie  or  ihy  whole  body :  all  <hy  filthy 
And  ratien  llalleries  stink  i'  my  rememhrance. 
And  nothing  la  to  loathsome  as  thy  presence. 

KiM.  Sure  ihis  will  prove  a  good  prince  !  Ijltide. 

Dec.  Still  repula'd ! 
1  muit  find  ground  to  thrive  on.      [v<rirfe,  and  exil. 

Sim.  I'ray,  remember  now 


THE  WORLD  TOST  AT  TENKIS.  187 

You  bad  the  vorld  from  me  clean  as  a  pick, 
Only  a  little  smutted  a'  one  side 
With  a  bastard  got  against  it,  or  sucb  a  toy  ; 
No  great  corruption  nor  oppression  in'l. 
No  knavery,  tricks,  nor  cozenage. 

KiNQ.  Thou  say'st  true,  fool ;  the  world  baa  a 

Siu.    Make   as   few   laws   as  you  can  then  to 
trouble  it. 
The  fewer  the  better ;   for  always  the  more  laws 

you  innke. 
The  more  knaves  thrive  by't,  mark  it  when  you 

Kino.  Thou'at  counsel  i'  thee  loo  I 

Sim.  a  litile,  "gainst  knavery;  I'm  such  an  enemy 

Tbat  it  comes  naturally  from  me  to  confound  it. 

Kino.  Look,  what  are  those  1 

Siu.  Tents,  tents  ;  that  part  o'  the  world 
Shews  like  a  fair  ;  but,  pray,  take  notice  on't. 
There's  not  a  bawdy  booth  amongst  'em  all ; 
You  have  'em  while  and  honest  as  I  had  'em. 
Look  tbat  your  laundresses  pollute  'em  not, 

KiKO.  How  pleasantly  the  countries  He  about, 
Of  which  we  are  sole  lord !      What's  that  i'  the 
middle  ? 

SiHP.    Looks  like  a  point,    you   mean,  a  very 


King.  Ay,  that,  that, 

■  'Tia  the  beginning  of  An 


iterdam ;  they  say 


the  first  brick  there  was  laid  with  fresh  cheese  a 
cream,  because  morlar  made  of  lime  and  hair  v 
wicked  and  committed  fornication. 

Kino.  Peace;  who  are  these  approaching? 

Siu.  Blustering  fellows: 
The  first's  a  soldier,  be  looks  just  like  March. 


188 


THE  WORLD  T 


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

Dec.    Captain,  'tis  you  that   have   the  bloody 
sneais, 
You  venture  life  and  limbs  ;  'tis  you  that  taste 
The  stings  of  thirst  and  hunger. 

L.-Cap.  There  thou  hast  nain'cl 
Afflictions  sharper  ihon  the  enemy's  swords. 

Dec,  Yet  lets  another  carry  away  the  world, 
or  which  by  right  you  are  the  only  master ; 
Stand  curtsying  for  your  pay  at  your  return — 
Perhaps  with  wooden  legs — to  every  groom. 
That  dares  not  look  foil  right  upon  a  sword, 
Nor  upon  any  wound  or  slit  of  honour. 

L.-Cap.  No  more  ;  I'll  be  myself:  1  that  uphold 
Countries  and  kingdoms,  must  I  halt  downright. 
And  be  propt  up  with  part  of  mine  own  strength. 
The  least  part  too?  why,  have  not  I  the  power 
To  make  myself  stand  absolute  of  myself, 
That  keep  up  others  J 

Kino.  How  cheers  our  noble  captain  t 

L.-Cap.  Our  own  captain, 
No  more  a  hireling :  your  great  foe's  at  hand, 
Seek  your  defence  elsewhere,  for  mine  shall  fail 


iih  death  and  danger 
the  world  kept  from  me; 


nd  in  that  agony, 
le,  forc'd  to  wade 


I'll  not  be  fellow-yok'd 

All  my  life-tinue,  and  ha 

March  in  the  heat  of  si 

A  furnace  girt  about  me. 

With  so  much  fire  within 

Through  a  cool  river,  pre  _ 

The  very  pains  of  hell,  now  scorch'd,  now  shivering, 

To  call  diseases  early  into  my  bones. 

Before  I've  age  enough  to  entertain  'em  : 

No,  he  that  has  desire  to  keep  the  world. 

Let  him  e'en  take  the  sour  piiins  to  defend  it. 


THE  WORLD  TOST  AT  TENNIS.  189 

KiNOt  Stay,  man  of  merit,  it  belongs  to  thee) 

\_Gives  the  orb  to  Land-Ca^tm. 
I  cheerAilly  resign  it ;  all  my  ambition 
Ib  but  the  quiet  calm  of  peaceful  days. 
And  that  fair  good  I  know  thy  arm  will  raise. 

L.^Cap.  Though  now  an  absolute  master,  yet  to 

Ever  a  faithful  servant,  \_Exit  King. 

Dec.  Give't  me,  sir,  to  lay  up;  I  am  your  trea- 

In  a  poor  kind. 

L.-Cap.  In  a  false  kind,  I  grant  thee: 
Hon  niany  vild-l  complaints,  from  time  to  time. 
Have*  been  put  up  against  thee  ?  they  have  wearied 

me 
More  than  a  battle  sixteen  hours  a-ligliting; 
I've  beard  (he  ragged  regiment  so  curse  thee, 
I  look'd  next  day  for  leprosy  upon  thee, 
Or  puffs  of  pestilence  as  big  as  wens. 
When  thou  wouldst  drop  asunder  like  a  thing 
Inwardly  eaten,  thy  akin  only  whole  : 
AvaunI,  defrauder  of  poor  soldiers'  rights. 
Camp-caterpillar,  hence !  or  I  will  send  thee 
To  make  their  rage  a  breakfast. 

Dec.  Is  it  possible? 
Can  I  yet  set  no  footing  in  the  world? 
I'm  angry,  but  not  weary  :  I'll  hunt  out  still ; 
For,  being  Deceit,  I  bear  the  devil's  name. 
And  he's  known  seldom  to  give  o'er  his  game. 

[_AiiJe,  and  exit. 

Sim.  Troth,  now  the  world  begins  to  be  in  huck- 
sters' handling  :  by  this  light,  the  booths  are  full  of 
cutlers  !  and  yonder's  two  or  three  queans  going 


*  Han]  01ded.'"UM." 


190  TBI  waau)  tost  at  mnns. 

to  victHil  ibe  camp ;  hab !  •ronld  I  wwe  irlnpt,  if 
jonder  be  not  a  panon's  daogbtn  with  «  xri^er 
betwecD  her  Icgi,  bag  and  baggage ! 

Sol.  Now  'tis  the  soldier'*  tine  ;  great  Jupiter, 
Now  gtre  rae  leave  to  enier  od  mj  fortuees. 
The  world's  oor  own. 

Jdf.  Stay,  begnil'd  thing  :  thia  tine 
la  many  ages  discrepant  from  thine ; 
ThU  was  the  leaaon  when  descn  was  stoopt  to. 
By  greatness  stoopt  to,  and  acknowledg'd  greaieat; 
But  in  thy  time  now  desert  stoops  itself 
To  every  baseness,  and  makes  saints  of  shadows  : 
Be  patient,  anil  ob serve  how  times  are  wrought. 
Till  it  comes  down  to  ibine,  (bat  rewards  nought. 
IChambcrt'  that  t^mitkiM. 

kt^%  }  ^'^  •  "^"'"  ^'^  ■'^"'  ' 

Enter  a  Sea-Captain,  Kith  Deceit  at  a  purter. 

S.-Cap.  Be  ready,  if  !  call,  to  give  fire  to  the 
ordnance. 

StM.  Bless  lis  all !  here's  one  spits  fire  as  he 
comes ;  he  will  go  nigh  to  mull  the  world  with 
looking  on  it:   how  his  eyes  sparkle! 

Dxc.    Shall   the  Land- Cap  tain,   sir,   usurp  your 
right  ? 
Yours,  that  try  thousand  dangers  to  his  one. 
Rocks,  shelves,  gulfs,  quicksands,  hundred,  hundred 

horrors. 
That  make"  the  landmen   tremble  when   they're 

(old, 
Besides  the  enemy': 


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

■  maiti  Old  ed.  "  makea." 


THE  WORI.B  TOST  AT  TESNIS.  191 

Purser,  no  more;  I'm  vex'd,  I'm  kindleil. — You, 
Land-Captain,  quick  deliver. 

L.-Cap.  Proud  salt-rover. 
Thou  hast  the  salutation  of  a  thier. 

S.-Cap.  Deliver,  or  I'll  thunder  thee  a-piecea, 
Make  night  within  this  hour,  e'en  at  high  noon, 
Belch'd  from  the  cannon :  dar'st  expostulate 
With  me  f  my  fury  ?  what's  thy  merit,  land-worm, 
That  mine  not  centuples  ? 
Thy  lazy  marches  and  safe- footed  battles 
Are  but  like  dangerous  dreams  to  my  encounters; 
Why,  every  minute  the  deep  gapes  for  me. 
Beside  the  fiery  throats  of  the  loud  fight ; 
When  we  go  to't  and  our  fell  ordnance  play, 
'Tia  like  the  figure  of  a  latter  day  : 
Let  me  but  give  the  word,  night  begins  now, 
Thy  breath  and  prize  both  beaten  from  thy  body : 
How  dar'st  thou  be  so  alow  1  not  yet  ?  then 

L.-Cap.  Hold  !        [Gires  the  orb  to  Sea-Captam. 

Dec.  I  knew  'twould  come  at  last.  [Ande, 

S.-Cap.  For  this  resign, 
Part  thou  shalt  have  still,  but  the  greatest  mine; 
Only  to  us  belongs  the  golden  sway  ; 
Th'  Indies  load  uk,  thou  liv'st  but  by  thy  pay. 

Dec,  And  shall  your  purser  help  you  ? 

S.-Cap.  No,  in  sooth,  sir  : 
Coward  and  cozener,  how  many  sea-battles 
Hast  thou  compounded  to  be  cabled  up  ? 
Yet,  when  the  fights  were  ended,  who  so  ready 
To  cast  aick  soldiers  and  dismember'd  wretches 
Over-board  instantly,  crying,  Away 
With  things  without  arms  !  'tis  an  ugly  sight ; 
When,  troth,  thine  own  should  have  been  off  by 

right ; 
But  thou  lay'st  safe  within  a  wall  of  hemp, 
Telling  the  guns,  and  numbering  'em  with  farting. 


Leave  me,  and  s|>eedily ;  I'll  hsre  thee  ra 
Into  a  culverin  else,  and  lliy  rear"  flesh 
Shot  all  into  poach'd  eggs. 


Destruction  plays  in  me 
That  I  would  purchase  il 


Lich  plcasanl 
w.  ,  any  pa 

I  worthy:   1  i 


Both  to  defend  and  enrich  majesty. 

Sim.  Hoyday  !  I  can  see  nothing  n 
Hark  a'  the  n      ' 


hipa; 


The  Third  Song. 

Hey,  the  irorliTi  oart,  rve  hate  got  the  time  by  chance: 
Let  uf  then  carouse  and  ting,  Jar  the  eery  haute  doth 
skip  and  dance 

That  tee  do  hok  liee  in  ; 
JVe  have  the  merriett  live$, 
We  have  the  fruitfuU'tt  nivei 

Of  all  men; 
We  never  yet  came  home. 
But  the  fir  it  hour  we  come 

We  find  them  all  tcith  child  agen." 

\_A  thout  within  :  enter  two  Marinern  with 
pipe  and  can,  dancing  severally  fig  lunt 
Jot  joy  the  world  is  come  into  their 
hands ;   then  exeunt. 
Sim.  What  a  crew  of  mad   rascah  are   ihese ! 
they're  ready  at  every  can   to  fall  into  the  had- 
docks' mouths  :  the  world  begins  to  love  lap  now. 


THE   WORLD  TOST  AT  TENNIS.  193 

Enter  a  Flamen,  mth  Deceit  like  a ." 

Flah.  Peace  and  the  brightness  of  a  holy  love 
Reflect  their  beauties  on  you  I 

S.-Cap.  Who  is  this? 

L.-Cap.  a  reverend  shape  ! 

S.-Cap,  Some  scholar. 

L.-Cap.  A  divine  one! 

S.-Cap.  He  may  be  what  he  will  for  me,  fellow- 
captain, 
For  I've  seen  no  church  these  five-and- 1  wenly  years, — 
I  mean,  as  people  ought  to  see  it,  inwardly. 

Flau.  I  have  a  virtuous  sorrow  for  you,  sir. 
And  'tis  my  special  duty  to  neep  for  you; 
For  to  enjoy  one  world  aa  you  do  there, 
And  be  forgetful  of  another,  sir — 
O,  of  a  better  millions  of  degrees!  — 
It  is  a  frailty  and  intirinity 
That  many  tears  must  go  for, —  all  too  little. 
What  ia't  to  be  the  lord  of  many  battles. 
And  suffer  to  be  overrun  within  you  ? 
Abroad  to  conquer,  and  be  slaves  at  home? 
Remember  there's  a  battle  to  be  fought, 
Which  will  undo  you  if  it  be  not  thought; 
And  you  must  leave  that  world,  leave  it  betimes. 
That  reformation  may  weep  off" the  crimesr 
There's  no  indulgent  hand  the  world  should  hold. 
But  a  strict  grasp,  for  making  sin  so  bold  ; 
We  should  be  careless  of  it,  and  not  fond  ; 
Of  things  so  held  there  is  the  best  command. 

S.-Cap.  Grave   sir,   I  give   thy  words   their  de- 
serv'd  honour, 
And  to  thy  sacred  charge  freely  resign 
Alt  that  my  fortune  and  the  age  made  mine. 

[Gives  the  orb  to  Flamen. 

»  fl ]  So  olJ  ed. 


THE  WORLD  TOST  AT  TENNIS,  195 

devil's  ai  home  ?  These  greal  rich  men  must  take 
their  ease  i'  their  inn:P  they'll  waJk  you  a  long 
mile  or  two  to  gel  a  siomach  for  their  victuals,  but 
not  a  piece  of  a  furlong  lo  get  an  appetite  to  their 
[_FlouT'uh. 


prayi 

Re-enter  King 


Ik  a  Lawyer,  and  Deceit  as  a 

pettifogger. 
Law.  No  more,  the  case  is  clear. 
SiK.  'Slid,  who  have  we  here  ? 
Law.  He  thai  pleads  for  the  world  must  fall  to 

Roundly. —  Most  gracious  and  illustrious  prince. 

Thus  stands  the  case,— the  world  in  Greek  is  cosmoi, 

In  Latin  mundus,  in  law-French  la  monde ; 

We  leave  the  Greek,  and  come  to  the  law-French, 

Or  glide  upon  the  Latin ;  all's  one  business : 

Then  unde  mundu*  ?  shall  we  come  to  that  7 

Nonne  derivatur  a  munditia  ? 

The  word  cleanness,  mundus  quasi  mundus,  clean  ; 

And  what  can  cleanse  or  mundify  the  world 

Better  than  law,  the  clearer  of  all  cases, 

The  sovereign  pill,  or  potion,  that  expels 

All  poisonous,  rotten,  and  infectious  wrongs 

From  the  vex'd  bosom  of  the  commonwealth  ? 

There's  a  familiar  phrase  implies  thus  much— 

I'll  put  you  to  your  purgation,  —  thai  is. 

The  law  shall  cleanse  you.    Can  the  sick  world  then, 

ToBl  up  and  down  from  time  to  time,  repose  ilself 

In  a  physician's  hand  belter  improv'd  ? 

Upon  my  life  and  reputation. 

In  all  the  courts  1  come  at,  be  assur'd 

I'll  make  it  clean. 

'  r  their  ink]  i.  e.  in  their  own  bouie :  concerning  tliit 
provpTbial  expreiiion,  lee  Dole*  on  Shakeipcare'i  Btitru  If. 
(riril  Pari),  act  iii.  ic.  3. 


19fi  THB  WOILS  TftCT  AT  TSinais. 

Sim.  Ym,  elesn  »w*]r,  1  wamni  you ; 
W«  >IwlU  ne'er  aec't  iftaiD. 

Law.  I  grant  mj  fiii»  are  bitter,  mj,  and  «NtIjr, 
But  Aeu  effect*  arc  rare,  diTtDc,  and  whoUgoiiie ; 

CtfpMX  pott  f,  and  an  A'c  exiat  rtgmo : 
1  grant  iberc'*  bitter  egrinKNij''  in  'em. 

And  it  works  precioiulr  :  who  ejects  injaries, 

M^ea  'era  bejcli  forth  m  Tomit,  but  the  Uw  T 

Who  clear*  the  widow's  use.  and  after  gets  h«r. 

If  she  be  wealthj,  but  the  adeocate  ! 

Tbeo,  lo  coodnde, 

If  jrou'll  hare  mmatAa  m  ammdc  dean,  firm. 

Give  hiu  to  me,  I'll  scour  bim  every  term. 

Flam.  I  pan  with't  gUdly,  talte't  into  ihy  trust, 
[(iir«t  tite  orb  lo  Laityer, 
So  will  it  thrive  as  thy  JRtent  is  just. 

Dtc.  Pity  your  tramplcr.^  sir,  your  poor  solicitor. 

Law.  Thee  F  infamy  to  our  profession. 
Which,  without  wTODg  lo  truth,  next  the  divine  one, 
Is  the  most  grsTo  and  hooonrable  function 
That  giTM  m  kiBgdooo  Uesi :  but  thou,  the  poison, 
DiaeaM  thM  grows  doae  to  the  heart  of  law. 
And  KMk'u  T«sti  nnsurer*  think  the  sound  part 

pcriih'd : 
Thou  fonl  <>cUpse,  that,  interposit^  equity. 
Ax  ihodark  earth  the  mooo.  mak'M  the  world  judge 
That  blackness  aitd  comptioa  hare  poasess'd 
Tint  silver  shine  of  justice,  when  "its  only 
The  snwke  ascetMling  from  thy  poisonous  ways, 
Caaena)CPt  domurss  and  filteen-ipftn  delays : 
Yet  hold  thee,  lake  the  uuck  on*t,  that's  thine  own. 


THE  WOELD  TOST  AT  lENN 


107 


ind  all ;  but  the  fair  fame  and  honour 

d  men's  prayers  and  nisheit, 


The  devil  a 

Ofrightef 

Which  is  thai  glorious  portion  of  the  world 

The  noble  lawyer  strives  for, — that  thy  bribery, 

Thy  double-handed  gripe,  shall  never  reach  to : 

With  fat  and  filthy  gain  thy  lust  may  feasi, 

But  poor  men's  curses  beat  thee  from  the  rest. 

Dec.  I'll  feed  upon  the  muck  on't,  that  awhile 
Shall  satisfy  my  longings  ;  wealth  is  known 
The  absolute  step  to  all  promotion. 

Kino.  Let  this  be  call'd  the  sphere  of  harmony, 
In  which,  being  met,  let's  all  move  mutually. 
Law,  \    Fair  love  is  i'  the  motion,  kingly 

Plah.,  ^e.j  love! 

[/n  Ihii  last  dance,  a>  an  ease  to  memory,  all  the 
former  revwvet  come  close  together;  (Ae  Devil 
entering,  aims  with  Deceit  at  the  irorld ;  but 
the  rrorld  remaining  now   in  the  Lanyer't 
poisession,  he,  expressing  his  reverend  and 
noble  acknowledgment  to  the  absolute  pomer  if 
majesty,  resigns  it  loyally  to  its  royal  govern- 
ment; Majesty  lo  Valour,  I'alour  to  Lore  again, 
Law  to  Religion,  Religion   to  Sovereignty, 
where  itfrmly  and  fairly  settles,  the  Lam  con- 
founding Deceit,  and  the  Church  the  DEVit. 
Flam.  Times  suffer  changes,  and  the  world  has 
been 
Vex'd  with  removes  ;  but  when  bis  glorious  peace 
Firmly  and  fairly  settles,  here's  his  place, 
Truth  his  defence,  and  majesty  his  grace. — 
We  all  acknowledge  it  belongs  to  you- 

S."„.,.*j0"'!"°J°»."i'' 

[They  all  deliver  the  orb  up  to  the  King. 

Flam.  Regis  ad  exemphm  totus  componitur  orbis, 

Which  shews, 


108  THE  WORLD  TOSI  AT  TENNIS. 

That  if  ihe  world  form  iiself  by  the  king, 
'Tin  fit  the  former  should  comtnand  the  thing. 

Dec.  This  is  no  place  for  iia. 

Devil.  Depart,  away ! 
I  thought  all  these  had  been 
No  court  of  virtues,  but  a  guard  of  devils. 

lExeunt  Deceit  and  the  Devil. 

King.  How  blest  am  I  in  subjects !  here  are  those 
That  make  all  kingdoms  happy, — worthy  Soldier, 
Fair  Churchman,  and  thou,  uncorrupted  Lawyer, 
Virtue's  great  miracle,  that  hast  redeem'd 
All  justice  from  her  ignominious  name. 

Sim.  You  forget  me,  sir. 

King.  What,  Simplicity! 
Who  thinks  of  virtue  cannot  forget  tliee. 

Sim.  Ay,  marry,  my  masters,  now  it  looks  like  a 
brave  world  indeed ;  how  civil1y'<  those  fair  ladies 
go  yonder !  by  this  hand,  they  are  neither  trimmed, 
nor  trussed,  nor  poniarded  /  wonderment  I  O,  yon- 
der's  a  knot  of  fine,  sharp- needle -bearded  gallants  ' 
but  that  they  wear  stammel'  cloaks,  tnethinks,  in 
stead  of  scarlet:  'slid,  what's  he  that  carries  ou 
two  custards  now  under  the  porter's  long  nose 
O,  he  leaves  a  bottle  of  wine  V  the  lodge,  and  all' 
pacified ;  cry  mercy. 

KiKo.  Continue  but  thus  watchful  o'er  yourselvCE 
1  einillt/']  i.  G.  soberly,  plainly  drcil :  compare  yo\.  iv.  p.  SOS, 

'  poniarded]  Poniitrdg,  or,  as  ihey  were  generally  called, 
knives,  were  formerly,  sayg  CifTard,  "  vorn  at  all  times  by 
every  woman  in  England;"  see  note  on  B.  Jonson'a  H'wki, 
voL  r.  p.  221. 

'  ncedlt-beardtd  gallanti]  Taylor,  the  urnler-poel,  in  a  pas- 
sage concerning  tlie  "  alrange  and  variable  cut"  ofbeirdr 
inentiom  "  Some  sharpe  Sicleiio  foihion,  dagger  like."  Su 
tvrbiit  Ftagitlim,  p.  3i-^Warket,  I(i30. 

'  uamtHtt\  i.  e.  ■  kind  of  red,  coaner  and  cheaper  than 


r  AT  TENNIS. 


19! 


That  the  great  cunning  enemies,  Deceit, 
And  his  loo-mighty  lord,  beguile  you  rot, 
And  ye're  the  precious  ornftments  of  state, 
The  glories  of  the  world,  fellows  to  virtues, 
Masters  of  honest  and  well-purchaa'd  fortunes. 
And  T  am  fortunate  in  your  partnership; 
But  if  you  ever  make  your  hearts  the  houses 
Of  falsehood  and  corruption,  ugh'ness  itself 
Will  be  a  beauty  to  yoti,  and  less  pointed  at: 
Spots  in  deformed  faces  are  scarce  noted, 
Fair  checks  are  stain'd  if  ne'er  so  little  blotted. 
L*w.  lEver  the  constant  servants  to  gtcnt 

Flak.,4c|  virtue! 

Kino.  Her  love  inhabit  yoti ! 

l^Exeunt  all  except  Jupitek,  Pallas,  SoldleT, 
and  Scholar. 
Jiip.  Now,  sons  of  vexation, 
Envy,  and  discontent,  what  blame  lay  you 
Upon  these  times  now  ?  which  does  merit  most 
To  be  condemn'd,  your  dulness  or  the  age? 
If  now  you  thrive  not,  Mercury  shall  proclaim 
You're  undeservers,  and  cry  down  your  lame. 
Be  poor  still,  scholar,  and  thou,  wretch  despis'd. 
If  in  this  glorious  time  thou  canst  not  prosper. 
Upon  whose  breast  noble  employments  sit. 
By  honour's  hand  in  golden  letters  writ; 
Nay,  where  the  prince'  of  nobleness  himself 
Proves  our  Minerva's  valiant'st,  hopefull'st  son, 
And  early  in  his  spring  puts  armour  on. 
Unite  your  worths,  and  make  of  two  one  brother. 
And  be  each  one  perfection  to  the  other  ; 
Scholar  and  soldier  must  both  shut  in  one. 
That  makes  the  absolute  and  complete  man : 
So,  now  into  the  world;  which,  if  hereatler 

'  Ihr  prince]  i.  e.  Charlet 


200  THE  wosu)  nwT  AT  TSjrxn. 

Yov  erer  tax  of  (onl,  •^ruefol  crimes. 
Your  dnlnie**  I  iBtDii  ponuli.  not  the  times. 

«^    j  BoooitT  lo  nuglity  JDpit«  I 

[Jt^rrrtk  amJ  Paiaas  atcemL 

Sol.  The  world 
Is  IB  ■  good  butd  now,  if  it  bold,  brotber. 

ScBO.  I  hope,  for  raaoy  agea. 

Soi-  tmre  thee  well,  then ; 
111  over  ]ronder*  to  the  most  glorioiu  w«rs 
That  e'er  fam'd  Chrisiian  kingdom. 

ScBo.  And  ni  settle 
Here,  tti  a  land  of  a  most  glorious  peice 
Tliat  eter  made  joy  fruitful,  where  the  head 
Of  him  that  rulei,  to  learning's  fair  renowu, 
la  doubly  dccbt  with  laurel"  and  a  crown, 
And  both  most  worthily. 

Sol.  Give  me  thy  hand, 
Prosperiiy  keep  with  thee  ! 

ScHo.  And  the  glory 
Of  noble  actions  bring  while  hair*  upon  thee! 
Present  our  with  with  reverence  to  this  place. 
For  here't  must  be  confirm'd,  or  't  has  no  grace. 

[_Exeunt  seceraUy. 

<  ril  mrr  gander.  Sec]  He  meant  to  ihe  Palilinale  :  gmt       1 
enlhuiiuni  «a«  felt  in  tbe  came  of  the  unrorlunnle  Queen  of 
HnheTniiL     Some  pataiee*,  gierbipi,  were  inserted  bete  sub-         1 
*ei]ilenli)>  to  (he  origins  production  of  the  Masque  :  cee  note, 
11.  167. 

*  dfckl  with  laurtf]  James  was  iccustomeil  to  receire  lUch 
incrnae. 

"  There  he  beholds  a  hijth  and  iclonoiis  Throne, 
Whur«  siu  a  King  hy  Laurtll  Carlanda  knonne. 
I.ikg  hriK'n  Apollo  in  the  Muies  qiiirei." 

Sir  J.  Ueaumonl't  Boiwartli-field,  p.  S,  ed.  1839. 
See  aliu  II.  Jonson't  tVerk;  vol.  viii.  p.  15*,  and  CiSbrd'i 


THE  WORLD  TOST  AT  TENNIS. 


201 


EPILOGUE. 


Gentlemen, 

We  must  confess  that  we  have  vented  ware 
Not  always  vendable :  masques  are  more  rare 
Than  plays  are  common ;  at  most  but  twice  a-year 
In  their  most  glorious  shapes  do  they  appear ; 
Which,  if  you  please  accept,  we'll  keep  in  store 
Our  debted  loves,  and  thus  entreat  you  more  ; 
Invert  the  proverb  now,  and  suffer  not 
That  which  is  seldom  seen  be  soon  forgot. 


PART  OF  THE  ENTERTAINMENT 


TO  KING.  JAMES,  &c. 


The  Magn^ent  Entertainment :  Giuen  to  King  James,  Queene 
Anne  his  totfe,  and  Henry  Frederick  the  Prince,  vpon  the  day  of 
his  Maiesties  Tryumphant  Passage  (from  the  Tower)  through  his 
Honourable  Citie  (and  Chamber)  of  London,  being  the  15.  of 
March.  1603.  As  well  by  the  English  as  by  the  Strangers:   With 
the  speeches  and  Songes,  deliuered  in  the  seuerall  Pageants, 
Mart,     Templa  Deis,  mores  populis  dedit,  otiaferro, 
Astra  suis,  Calo  sydera,  serta  Joui. 
Tho,  Dekker, 
Imprinted  at  Ltmdon  by  T,  C,  for  Tho,  Man  the  yonger.    1604. 
4to. 

Of  this  pageant  (which  is  reprinted  in  Nichols's  Prog,  of 
King  James,  vol.  i.  p.  337f)  Middleton  wrote  only  the  speech 
of  Zeal  (see  p.  210) ;  but  in  order  to  make  that  speech  in- 
telligible, I  have  given  a  portion  of  the  prose  description 
which  precedes  it. 


VOL.  V. 


PART  OF  THE 
ENTERTAINMENT  TO  KING  JAMES, 


Our  next  arch  at  triumph  wbh  erected  above  the 
Conduit  in  Fleet  Street,  into  which,  as  into  the 
long  and  beauteous  gallery  of  the  city,  his  Majesty 
being  entered,  afar  oiF— as  if  it  had  been  some 
swelling  promontory,  or  rather,  some  enchanted 
castle  guarded  by  ten  thousand  harmless  spirits — 
did  his  eye  encounter  another  tower  of  pleasure 

Presenting  itself, 
Fourscore  and  ten  foot  in  height,  and  firty  in 
breadth  ;  the  gate  twenty  foot  in  the  perpendicular 
line,  and  fourteen  in  the  ground  line  :  the  two  pos- 
terns were  answerable  to  these  that  are  set  down 
before  :  over  the  posterns,  viz.  up  in  proportionable 
measures,  two  turrets  with  battlements  on  the  tops. 
The  middest  of  the  building  was  laid  open  to  the 
world,  and  great  reason  it  should  be  so,  for  the 
Globe  of  the  world  was  there  seen  to  move,  being 
filled  with  all  the  degrees  and  states  that  are  in  the 
land  ;  and  these  were  the  mechanical  and  dead 
limbs  of  this  carved  body.  As  touching  those  that 
had  the  use  of  motion  in  it,  and  for  a  mind  durst 
have  spoken,  but  that  there  was  no  stuff  fit  for 
iheir  mouths, 

The  principal  and  worthiest  was  Astr«a  (Jus- 
tice), Bitting  aloft,  as  being  newly  descended  from 


SOS 


r*XT  OV  TBS 


I 


bMTCD,  gloriously  animl,  mil  her  gimeiitt  being 
ihickly  strewed  with  sun;  a  ctowd  of  con  on 
her  hemd,  a  silver  veD  corniag  her  eyes.  HsTtng 
told  you  ihai  her  Dame  was  Jintice>  I  hope  you 
will  not  put  me  to  describe  what  properties'  she 
held  in  her  hands,  sitheoee^  every  painted  cloth* 
can  inform  you. 

Directly  under  ber,  in  a  cant''  by  herself,  wu 
AxBTB  (Virtue),  enthroived,  her  garments  white, 
her  head  crowned :  and  under  her,  Fobtdna,  ber 
foot  tieadine  on  the  Globe  that  moved  beneath  her, 
intinuting  that  bis  Majesty's  fortune  wu  above  the 
world,  but  his  virtues  above  his  fortuoe. 

iHTTDtA, 

Envy,  UDbandsomely  attired  all  iti  black,  her  hair 
of  the  same  colour,  filleted  about  with  snakes, 
stood  in  a  dark  and  obscure  place  fay  herself,  near 
unto  Virtue,  but  making  shew  of  a  fearfulneu 
to  approach  ber  and  the  light,  yet  itill  and  anon 
casting  her  eyes  sometimes  to  the  one  side  beneath, 
where,  on  sereral  greeces,*  sat  the  Four  Cnrdtnal 

rJcsTiTii,  "1 

yj        J  FOETITDDO,  I 

■     I  TEKfEaAMTtA, 


and  sometimes  throwing  a  distorted  and  repining 
countenance  to  the  other  opposite  seat,  on  which 
his  Majesty's  Pour  Kingdoms  were  advanced. 


:o  bcT  chancier — ■  thos- 


{Ekoland, 
Scotland, 

all  of  lliem  in  rich  robes  and  mantles  ;~  crowns  on 
their  heads,  and  sceptres  with  penciled^  acutclieona 
in  their  hands,  lined  with  the  coaia  of  the  particular 
kingdoms.  For  very  madness  that  she  beheld  these 
glorious  objects,  she  stood  feeding  on  the  heads  of 
adders. 

The  Fouft  Elements,  in  proper  shapes.^  arti- 
ficially and  nptly  expressing  their  qualities,  upon 
the  approiich  of  his  Majesty  went  round  tn  a  pro- 
portionable and  even  circle,  touching  that  cantle*^ 
of  the  Globe  (which  was  open)  to  the  full  view  of 
his  Majesty:  which  being  done,  they  bestowed 
themselves  in  such  comely  order,  and  stood  so  as 
if  the  eronie'  had  been  held  up  on  the  tops  of  their 
fingers. 

Upon  distinct  ascensions,  tieaily  raised  within 
the  hollow  womb  of  the  Globe,  ^vere  placed  all  the 
states  of  the  land,  from  the  nobleman  to  the  plough- 
man, among  whom  there  was  not  one  word  to  be 
heard,  for  you  must  imagine,  as  Virgil  snith, 


a./ja« 


that  it  n 


rge,  rcdeunt  SalHrnla  regna, 

r  the  golden  world,  in  which  there 


dravne  a  Kose,"  &c. 


—  haviag  pttiiih,  Bmall   flogt, 

r  passage  of  Ihil  pHgpanl  ;   " 

indei  ptnfild  Shieldes  i    vpoii  thf  Ural 


All  the  tongues  that  neat  in  l1 
toDgue  of  Zeal,  whose  personage 
Vi.  Bourne,  one  of  the  servants 
PriDce ; 

And  thus  went  his  Speech. 
The  populous  globe  of  this  oor  English  isle 
Seem'il  lo  move  backward  at  the  funeral  pile 
Of  her  dead  female  majesty ;  all  iiates, 
From  nobles  down  to  spirits  of  meaner  fates, 
Alov'd  opposite  to  nature  and  to  peace, 
As  if  these  men  had  been  th'  Antipodes: 
But  see  the  virtue  of  a  regal  eje, 
Th'  aliractive  wonder  of  man's  majesty ! 
Our  Globe  is  drawn  in  a  right  line  agen,' 
And  now  appear  nen'  faces  and  new  men. 
The  ElemenlB,  Earth,  Water,  Air,  and  Fire. 
Which  ever  elipt*  a  natural  desire 
To  combat  each  with  other,  being  at  first 
Created  enemies  lo  fight  their  worst. 
See,  at  the  peaceful  presence  of  their  King, 
How  quietly  they  mov'd  without  their  sting! 
Earth  not  devouring,  Fire  not  defacing. 
Water  not  droirning,  and  the  Air  not  chasing. 
But  propping  the  quaint  fabric  that  here  stands, 
Without  the  violence  of  their  wrathful  hands. 

Mirror  of  times,  lo,  where  thy  Fortune  sits. 
Above  the  world  and  all  our  human  wits, 
But  thy  high  Virtue  above  that  I  what  pen, 
Or  art,  or  brain,  can  reach  thy  virtue  then! 
At  whose  immortal  brightness  and  true  light 
Envy's  infectious  eyes  have  lost  their  sight ; 
Her  snakes,  not  daring  to  shoot  forth  their  stings 
'Gainst  such  a  glorious  object,  down  she  flings 


ESTEBTAISMENT  TO  K 


■211 


Their  forks  of  venom  into  her  own  maw, 
Whilst  het  rank  teeth  the  glittering  poisons  chaw  ; 
For  'tis  the  property  of  En»y's  blood 
To  dry  away  at  every  kingdom's  good, 
Especially  when  she  had  eyes  to  view 
These  four  main  virtues  figiir'd  all  in  you, — 
Justice  in  causes,  Fortitude  'gainst  foes, 
Temperance  in  spleen,  and  Prudence  in  all  those: 
And  then  so  rich  an  empire,  whose  fair  breast 
Contains  four  kingdoms,  by  your  entrance  blest; 
By  Brute  divided,  but  by  you  alone 
All  are  again  united  and  made  one; 
Whose  fruitful  glories  shine  so  far  and  even. 
They  touch  not  only  earth,  but  they  kiss  heaven. 
From  whence  Astrsea  is  descended  hither, 
Who  with  our  last  queen's  spirit  ded  up  thither. 
Foreknowing  on  the  earth  she  could  not  rest, 
Till  you  had  tock'd  her  in  your  rightful  breast : 
And  therefore  all  estates,  whose  proper  arts 
Live  by  the  breath  of  majesty,  had  hearts 
Burning  in  holy  zeal's  immaculate  fires, 
Willi  quenchless  ardours  and  unstain'd  desires, 
To  see  what  they  now  see,  your  powerful  grace 
Refleciing  joys  on  every  subject's  face; 
These  painted  flames  and  yellow  burning  stripes 
Upon  this  robe,  being  but  as  shows  and  types 
Of  that  great  zeal :  and  therefore,  in  the  name 
Of  this  glad  city,  whither  no  prince  e'er  came 
More  lov'd,  more  long'd  for,  lowly  I  entreat. 
You'd  be  to  ber  as  gracious  as  you're  great ; 
So  with  reverberate  shouts  our  Globe  shall  ring, 
The  music's   close   being    thus  —  God    save    oui 
King! 


If  there    be  any  glory    i 


he  ' 


I  by   writing 


SIS         rAcr  01  nn  txTKiruxMtitT,  he. 

Utcae  lisM,  1  do  Twdj  bestow  it,  u  lu»  dnc,  no 
Tbo.  Hiddletoa,  in  whoM  bcmio  Hitj  mtn  begoUra, 
Ukm^  tltej  wcicdclmml  Iwre:  fMK  mk  MNyeri- 


THE  TRIUMPHS  OF  TRUTH, 


AND 


THE  ENTERTAINMENT  AT  THE  OPENING 
OF  THE  NEW  RIVER. 


I 


Thi  Triumpht  qf  Tralh.  A  Soltimily  vaparalleld far  Call,  Art, 
md  Magnificence,  at  iht  Cmfirmalim  and  EUabliilmunt  iff  thai 
Wartky  md  Inu  NobtytBinded  Gtathman,  Sir  ncmai  Middlt- 
lim,Knighl:  in  !*»  Himoralilt  Offiet  of  hU  Maialitt  Lieutltnant, 
Iht  Lord  MaioT  qf  Ike  thrice  Famont  Ciity  nf  Landm.  Taking 
Blgimitg  at  hit  Lord-Mpi  going,  and  proceeding  afltf  hii  Re- 
tune  from  reieiuing  fie  Oaik  o/Uaiarally  at  Weilnituter,  ok 
Ih*  Memi0  next  i^tr  Simon  and  ludei  day,  October  29.  1S13. 
AH  the  Shoves,  Pagtanli,  CharioU;  Morning,  Noone,  and  Night- 
THumpke:  Directed,  Written,  and  redeem'd  into  Farmt,  Jron 
the  Ignorance  cf  lotne  /ormer  timet,  and  their  Common  Writer, 
By  Thopiai  Uiddlctan.  Shetcing  alio  hii  Lordihipi  Bntertaine- 
ntnt  f-pon  Micharlmai  day  loll,  being  the  dog  of  hit  Eltetion,  al 
that  mott  Famous  and  Admired  Worke  <tf  the  AHNninf  Stream*, 
from  Amuiell-Hiad  into  the  Ceileme  al  liVmgton,  being  Iht  tola 
CotI,  Indaitry  and  Inanition  of  the  Worthy  Mr.  Hugh  Middletm 
1^  London,  Galdimilli.  London,  Printed  by  Nichalas  Okti.  1613. 
410. 

Of  ihi*  pageant  there  is  an  earlier  edition  by  the  same 
printer  »nd  with  the  ume  date,  but  wanting  tbe  EntertaiQ- 
menc  al  the  Nen  River  tiead. 

Tht  Triumph!  of  Truth,  St,  ii  reprinled  in  NichoI»"s  Pro- 
grtutt  i^K.  Jamei,  voL  ii.  p.  fi79. 


To  the  great  expeclatwn  of  tirtue  and  yoodnem,  and 
most  mrrthi/  of  all  those  costt  and  tumours  tchich  the 
noble  Fellmcship  and  Society  qfOrocerx,  and  general 
lotv  of  the  vhoU  City,  in  full-heaped  bounties  bettene 
itpon  him,  the  truly  generous  and  Judicious  Sik 
Thomas  Middlkton,  Knight,  Lord  Mayor  of  the 
honourable  Cily  of  London. 

As  often  as  we  shall  fix  our  tlioiighis  upon  tlie 
Almighty  Providence,  so  often  iliey  return  to  our 
capacities  laden  with  admiration,  either  from  the 
divine  works  of  his  mercy  or  those  incomprehensible 
of  his  justice:  but  here  to  instance  only  hi»  omni- 
potent mercy,  it  being  the  health  and  preservation 
of  all  his  works;  and  lirst,  not  only  in  raising,  but 
also  in  preserving  your  lordship  from  many  great  ■ 
and  incident  dangers,  especially  in  foreign  coun- 
tries, in  the  time  of  your  youth  and  travels;  and 
now,  with  safety,  love,  and  triumph,  to  establish 
you  in  this  year's  honour,  crowning  the  perfection 
of  your  days,  and  the  gravity  of  your  life,  with 
power,  respect,  and  reverence  :  next,  in  that  my- 
self, though  unworthy,  being  of  one  name  with 
your  lordship,  notwithstanding  all  oppositions  of 
malice,  ignorance,  and  envy,  should  thus  happily 
live,  protected  by  part  of  that  mercy  —  as  if  one 
fate  did  prosperously  cleave  to  one  name — now  to 
do  service  to  your  fame  and  vvorthiness,  and  my 
VOL.  v.  u 


sift 

pen  only  to  be  employed  in  these  bounteoui  and 
honourable  triumphs,  being  but  shadows  to  those 
eternal  glories  that  stand  ready  for  deaervers;  to 
which  I  commend  *'"■  •'""•-  "f  your  justice,  re- 
maining ever, 


my  obsen-ance, 

UOMAB   Ml 


% 


THE  TRIUMPHS  OF  TRUTH. 


Sbakch  all  chroDiclce,  hiatorieB,  records,  in  what 
language  or  letter  soever ;  let  the  inquisitive  man 
waste  the  dear  treasures  of  his  time  and  eyesight, 
he  shall  conclude  his  life  only  in  this  certainty, 
that  there  ia  no  subject  upon  earth  received  into 
the  place  of  his  government  with  the  like  state  and 
magnificence  as  is  the  Lord  Mayor  of  the  city  of 
London.  This  being,  then,  infallible— like  the  mis- 
treu  of  our  triumphs — and  not  to  be  denied  of  any, 
how  careful  ought  those  gentlemen  to  he,  to  whose 
discretion  and  judgment  the  weight  and  charge  of 
such  a  business  is  entirely  referred  and  committed 
by  the  whole  Society,  to  have  all  things  corre- 
spondent to  that  generous  and  noble  freeneas  of 
and  liberality;  the  streams  of  art  to  equal 
se  ofboimty;  a  knowledge  that  may  take  the 
e  height  of  such  an  honourable  solemnity, — the 
miserable  want  of  both  which,  in  the  impudent 
common  writer,  hath  often  forced  from  me  much 
pity  and  sorrow;  and  it  would  heartily  grieve  any 
understanding  spirit  to  behold,  many  times,  so  glo- 
rious a  fire  in  bounty  and  goodness  offering  to 
match  itself  with  freezing  Art,  sitting  in  darkness, 
with  the  candle  out,  looking  like  the  picture  of 
Black  Monday." 


220  THE  TftfVMFHS  OF  TBUTB, 

But,  to  Speak  iruili,  «vhicli  m&ay  beside  myself 
can  afBrm  upon  knowledge,  a  care  that  bach  been 
seldom  equBikil,  and  not  easily  imitated,  hath  been 
faithfully  shewn  in  the  nhole  course  of  this  busi- 
ness, both  by  the  wardens  and  committees,  men  of 
much  understanding,  industry,  and  carefulness,  little 
weighing    the   greatness   of  expense,   so  the  cost 


or  1605  and  1611,  and  perhaps  olhrrs  at  which  po  copies  an 
known  lo  exiit.  TliDijg:h  he  tbii  year  (ind  (he  tail,  when 
Dckber  was  einplojed)  loil  the  uffice  uf  author,  be  did  not 
Idh  thai  of  Bupplyiiig  Ibe  apparel],  &r.,  nhtch  wosbia  busineu 
u  a  draper,  and  to  which  omce  only  Middlecon  teems  to  have 
CODBidered  him  competent  [lee  p.  245].  This  virulent  alUck, 
however,  appears  to  hire  experienced  no  greater  attfotion 
than  such  violence  deserved,  since  Munday  wai  employed  in 
the  three  following  years."  Nichols.  —  The  iuKripnon  on 
Anlhony'i  tomb  declarci  that  he  waa  ■  "  ciliien  and  draper :" 
but  I  am  not  sure  (hat  he  furnished  "  the  appirell  and  por- 
lera  "  for  Tht  Triamphi  oj  Tmlh  in  the  lalter  capacity  ;  rather, 
perhaps,  in  conoeigueiice  of  being  keeper  of  liir  proprrlUi  of 
the  pageaDta.  In  the  reniarka  pretixed  to  Munday's  Dwnfatt 
nflhe  Earl  of  HuHlingtim  (Suppl.  vol.  to  Dodiley'a  OW /•%.)■ 
I  am  surprised  lo  find  Mr.  ColliGr  doubling  if  Middleion 
alludes  lo  him  here :  and  I  can  anl^  suppose  tliat  nbeu  Mr.  C. 
wrolG  those  remarka,  big  rccollectioa  of  Ibe  presenl  passage 
was  somewliat  imperfect. 

The  play  Just  menlioiied  is  evidence  that  Munday's  powers 
ivere  far  from  contempiible.  The  ill  will  which  the  dramatists 
appear  to  have  borne  towards  him  was,  perhaps,  called  forth 
b;  the  extravagant  encomium  of  Meres,  who,  in  the  PalladU 
rani'a,  IS98,  Fiad  chosen  to  term  him  "  our  beat  ptoller," 
fol.  283.  With  respect  to  the  comedy  called  Tht  Can  it 
alltrett,  in  which  he  i>  ridiculed  under  tho  name  of  AdIdiuo 
Balladino,  there  has  been  a  queition  among  critics,  whether 
it  it  the  work  of  Ben  Jonson.  CiBord  pronounced  it  to  ba 
an  early  production  of  that  poet ;  Bad  be,  I  am  confident, 
would  not  have  changed  his  opinion  even  if  he  had  lived 
lo  see  the  copy,  wiihoul  any  aullior'a  name  on  the  title-page, 
which  some  years  ago  was  added  lo  the  collection  of  the  Duke 


might  purchase  perfection,  so  fervent  halh  been 
their  desire  to  excel  in  that,  which  is  a  learned  and 
virtuous  ambition,  and  so  unfeignedly  pure  the 
loves  and  aflections  of  the  whole  Company  to  his 
lordship,  if  any  shall  imagine  that  I  set  fairer 
colours  upon  their  deserts  than  they  upon  them- 
selves, let  them  but  read  and  conceive,  and  their 
own  understandings  will  light  tliem  to  the  acknow- 
ledgment of  their  errors.  Fi 
behold  love  and  bounty  opening  n 
earlier  than  some  of  former  year 
first  appearing  of  his  lordship,  t 
taste  of  the  day's  succeeding  glory;  and  thus  the 
form  of  it  presents  itself:  — 

At  Soper-Lane  end  a  senate-house  erected,  upon 
which  musicians  sit  playing  ;  and  more  to  quicken 
time,  a  sweet  voice  married  to  these  words  : 


,  they  may  her 
with  the  morning 
rs,  ready,  at  ili 
I  give  his  ( 


The  Smig. 

Mother  of  many  honourable  sons, 
Think  not  the  glasM  too  sloKly  runs 
That  in  Time's  hand  is  set. 
Because  thy  northy  ton  appears  not  yet : 
Lady,  be  pleas'd,  the  hour  grotvi  on. 
Thy  joy  mil  be  complete  anon  ; 

2%ou  xhalt  behold 

The  man  enrolfd 
In  htmovr's  books,  whom  virttte  rahei ; 

Love-circled  round. 

His  triumphs  crotm'd 
With  all  good  wishes,  prayers,  and  praises. 

What  greater  comfort  to  a  mother's  heart, 
Than  to  behold  her  son's  desert 


I  TBI  TKICICFBS  or  TStlTtl. 

G*  ktad  t>  kmmd  nti  btv, 

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

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


Akrt  tbn  Bircrl  kit  hath  liberallv  spent  itself,  at 
ibv  (int  •ppcaring  of  the  Lord  Mayor  from  Guild- 
h«U  in  tbe  tnoming.  a  iruinpei  placed  upon  that 
tc«ffald  M>unds  fonh  his  welcome;  then,  after  a 
sUain  or  two  of  muaic,  a  grave  fetoinine  shape  pre- 
aeitts  itself  from  beliind  a  silk  curtain,  Tepresenting 
London,  aiiir«d  like  a  reverend  mother,  a  long 
while  hair  naturallv  (lowing  on  either  side  of  her ; 
on  her  bead  a  model  of  steeples  and  turrets ;  her 
habit  crinuun  silk,  near  to  the  honourable  garment 
of  the  cil<r :  her  left  hand  holding  a  key  of  gold: 
who,  after  a  comely  grace,  equally  mixed  with 
comfort  and  reverence,  sends  from  her  lips  this 
motherly  salutation : 

The  ^jxech  of  Lokdok. 

llonoiiT  and  joy  salute  thee!  I  am  rais'd 
In  comfort  and  in  love  to  see  thee,  glad 
And  hnppy  in  thy  blessings  ;  nor  esteem 

*  jtlltitd]  Old  eds.  "  Allends." 

'  ll'hal  gtiattr.  Sc. 

.  .  .  hU  kauomr't  cmfirtaaliBit]  Thit  second  iliuila  ii 
1101  rppTinml  by  Nicliols,  The  old  ed.  omiw  ii  in  ihii  pUce, 
bat  gives  it  afm^irds  with  the  musical  notes  of  tbe  song. 


THE  TRIUMFUS 


223 


I 


My  words  the  less  'cause  1  8  woman  speak) 

A  woman's  counsel  is  not  always  weak, 

1  am  thy  mother ;  at  that  name  I  know 

Thy  heart  does  reverence  to  me,  as  becomes 

A  SOD  of  honour,  in  whose  soul  burn*^  clear 

The  sacred  lights  of  divine  fear  and  knowledge  ; 

I  know  (hat,  at  this  instant,  all  the  works 

Of  motherly  love  in  me,  shewn  to  thy  youth, 

When  it  was  soft  and  helpless,  are  summ'd  up 

In  thy  most  grateful  mind  :  thou  well  remember'st 

All  my  dear  pains  and  care ;  with  what  afiection 

I  cherish['d]  thee  in  my  bosom,  watchful  gtill 

Over  thy  ways ; 

Set  wholesome  and  religious  laws  before 

The  footsteps  of  thy  youth  ;  shew'd  thee  the  way 

That  led  thee  to  the  glory  of  this  day, — 

To  which,  with  tears  of  the  most  fruitful  joy 

That  ever  mother  shed,  I  welcome  thee : 

O,  I  could  be  content  to  take  my  part 

Out  of  felicity  only  in  weeping, 

Thy  presence  and  this  day  are''  so  dear  to  me  ! 

Look  on  my  age,  my  honourable  son. 

And  then  begin  to  think  upon  thy  office.; 

See  how  on  each  side  of  me  hang  the  cares 

Which  1  beslow'd  on  thee,  in  silver  hairs ; 

And  now  the  faith,  the  love,  the  zealous  fires 

With  which  I  cheer'd  thy  youth,  my  age  requires. 

The  duty  of  a  mother  !  have  shewn. 

Through  all  the  riles  of  pure  affection, 

wealth,  in  honour. 
Brought   thee   to   what  thou   art,   thou'st  all   from 


4 


SS4  THE  TRIUMPHS  OF  TBCTH. 

Now  to  thy  charge,  ihy  government,  thy  cares, 
Thy  mother  in  her  age  submits  her  years : 
Aod  though  — 10  my  abuDilant  grief  I  speak  it. 
Which  now  o'erflowg  my  joy — some  Bona  I  have 
Thankless,  unkind,  and  disobedient, 
Rewarding  all  my  bounties  with  neglect, 
And  will  of  purpose  wilfully  retire 
Thcimclvefl  from  doing  grace  and  service  t 
When  they've  got  all  ihey  can,  or  hope  for,  fro 

me, — 
The  thankfulness  in  which  thy  life  doth  move 
Did  ever  promise  fairer  fruits  of  love, 
And  now  they  shew  themselves;  yet  they  have  all 
My  blessing  with  them,  so  the  world  sh^l  see 
Tis  their  unkindness,  no  defect  in  me. 
But  go  thou  forward,  my  ihrice-honour'd  son 
In  ways  of  goodness ;  glory  is  hest  won 
When  merit  brings  it  home ;  disdain  all  titles 
Purchas'd  with  coin,  of  honour  take  thou  hold 
By  thy  desert,  let  others  buy't  with  gold; 
Fix  thy  moat  serious  thought  upon  the  weight 
Thou  goest  to  undergo,  'tis  the  just  government 
Of  this  fam'd  city, — me,  whom  nations  call 
Their  brightest   eye;    then  with   great   ca' 

fear 
Ought  1  to  be  o'erseen,  to  be  kept  clear : 
Spots'  in  deformed  faces  are  scarce  noted, 
Fair  cheeks  are  stain'd  if  ne'er  so  little  blotted. 
See'st  thou  this  key  of  gold  ?  it  shews  thy  charge:  j 
This  place  is  the  king's  chamber  ;  nil  pollution, 
Sin,  and  uncleanness,  must  be  lock'd  out  here. 
And  be  kept  sweet  with  sanctity,  faith,  and  fear : 
I  see  grace  take  etfect, — heaven's  joy  upon  her ! 
'Tis  rare  when  virtue  opes  the  gate  to  honour. 

■  Spolt,  &c.]  We  have  had  tbii  couplet  before,  p.  199. 


My  ble 

Aodon 


be  upon  tliee,  son  and  lord, 
ions  all,  ihat  obey  my  word! 


Then  making  her  honour,  as  before,  the  Waits 
of  the  city  there  in  service,  his  Lordship,  and  the 
worthy  Company,  are  led  forward  toward  the  water- 
side, where  you  shall  End  the  river"^  decked  in  the 
richest  glory  to  receive  him ;  upon  whose  crystal 
bosom  stand''  five  islands,  artfully  garnished  with 
all  manner  of  Indian  fruit-trees,  drugs,  spiceries, 
and  the  like ;  the  middle  island  with  a  fair  castle 
especially  beautified. 

But  makiog  haste  to  return  to  the  cily  again, 
where  triumph  waits  itt  more  splendour  and  mag- 
nificence, the  first  then  tliat  attends  to  receive  his 
Lordship  off  the  water  atBaynard's-Castle,is  Truth's 
Angel  on  horseback,  his  raiment  of  white  silk  pow- 
dered with  stars  of  gold ;  on  his  head  a  crown  of 
gold,  a  trumpeter  before  him  on  horseback,  and 
Zeal,  the  champion  of  Truth,  in  a  garment  of  flame- 
coloured  silk,  with  a  bright  hair  on  his  head,  from 

'  Ihi  rivtr.  Sic.']  "SlrThoinHiMiddleloti.^acer.flndaiayar 
in  1613,"  My»  Ucrbprl,  in  hia  Hittoty  1/ the  Twelve  Great 
Livrt)  Campania  of  London,  "  wai  nearly  the  Aral  who  at- 
tempted BQ  emljlciBalical  and  scenic  repreieniacion  of  hia 
company,  in  a  water  tpeciacle,  consisting  (in  imitation  of  the 
pageant  mentioned  to  have  been  exhibited  by  Sic  John  Weill 
Id  Henry  VI.*}  of  '  five  ialands,  artfully  garnished  with  all 
manner  of  Indian  fruit  trees,  druggea,  ipiceriea,  and  the  like; 
the  middle  iiland  having  a  faire  casile  especiall;  beautified  1' 
the  l&tter  probably  aliuaive  to  the  newly- eslabli abed  East 
India  Company's  forti,  and  wlioce  adventures  had  contributed 
■    □  enlarge  (he  sphere  of  the  grDnera'  trade."  loL  i. 


M 


p.  500. 


.d]  Old  eda.  "atandi." 


■  See  Herbert*!  work,  vol.  i 


THE  Turirrus  OF  tkcth. 

which  ahoot  Gre-beams,  following  close  after  biin, 
mounted  nlike,  his  right  hand  holding  a  flsmiog 
scourge,  intimating  thereby  that  as  he  is  the  n 
nifester  of  Trulli,  he  is  likenise  the  chastiser 
Ignorance  and  Error. 

The  laliUaiitm  of  the  Akoel. 
I  have  nithin  mine  eye  my  blessed  charge : 
Hail,  friend  of  Truth  !  safety  and  joy  attend*  theej 
I  am  Truth's  Angel,  by  my  mistress  sent 
To  guard  and  guide  thee.     When  thou  took'at  thy 

I  stood  on  thy  right  hand,  though  to  thy  eye 
In  visible  form  I  did  not  then  apuear ; 
Ask  but  thy  soul,  "twill  tell  thee  I  stood  near; 
And  'twas  a  time  to  lake  care  of  thee  then, 
At  such  a  marriage,  before  heaven  and  men, 
Thy  faith  being  wed  to  honour ;   close  behind  th< 
Stood  Error's  minister,  that  siill  sought  to  blii 

And  wrap  his  subtle  mists  about  thy  oath. 
To  hide  it  from  the  nakedness  of  Troth, 
Which  is  Truth's  purest  glory;  but  my  light. 
Still  as  it  shone,  expell'd  her  blackest  spite; 
His  mists  fled  by,  yet  all  1  could  devise 
Could  hardly  keep  them  from  some  people's  eyeOp^ 
But  thine  they  flew  from :  thy  care's  but  begun, 
Wake  on,  the  victory  is  not  half  yet  won; 
Thou  wilt  be  still  assaulted,  thou  shalt  meet 
With  many  dangers  that  in  voice  seem  sweet. 
And  ways  most  pleasant  to  a  worldling's  eye ; 
My  mistress  has  but  one,  but  that  leads  high. 
To  yon  triumphant  city  follow  me, 
Keep  thou  to  Truth,  eternity  keeps  to  thee. 

•  affmf]  Old  eds.  "  ittcndi." 


I 


I 


Oa  boldly,  man  of  honour !  thou  shalt  win  ; 

I  am  Truth's  champion,  Zeal,  the  scourge  of  sin. 

The  trumpet  then  sounding,  the  Ange!  and  Zeal 
rank  themaelves  just  before  his  Lordship,  and  eon- 
duct  him  to  Paul's-Chain,  where,  in  the  aoutli  yard, 
Error  in  a  chariot  with  his  infernal  ministers  at- 
tends to  assault  him,  his  garment  of  ash-colour 
silk,  his  head  rolled  in  a  cloud,  over  which  stands 
an  owl,  a  mole  on  one  shoulder,  a  bal  on  ihe  other, 
all  symbols  of  blind  ignorance  and  darkness,  mists 
hanging  at  his  eyes.  Close  before  him  rides  Envy, 
his  champion,  eating  of  a  human  heart,  mounted 
on  a  rhinoceros,  attired  in  red  silk,  suitable  to  the 
bloodiness  of  her  manners ;  her  left  pap  bare,  where 
a  anake  fastens ;  her  arms  half  naked ;  holding  in 
her  right  hand  a  dart  tincted  in  blood. 

The  greeting  o/"Erbob. 

Art  come?  O  welcome,  my  triumphant  lord. 

My  glory's  sweetheart!  how  many  millions 

Of  happy  wishes  hath  my  love  told  out 

For  this  desired  minute  I  I  was  dead 

Till  I  enjoy'd  thy  presence,  I  saw  nothing, 

A  blindness  thicker  than  idolatry 

CloTe  to  my  eyeballs  ;  now  I'm  all  of  light. 

Of  fire,  of  joy,  pleasure  runs  nimbly  through  me; 

Lei's  join  together  both  in  state  and  triumph, 

And  down  with  beggarly  and  friendless  Virtue, 

That  bath  so  long  impoverish'd  this  fair  city  ; 

My  beasts  shall  trample  on  her  naked  breast, 

Under  my  chariot-wheels  her  bones  lie  prest. 

She  ne'er  shall  rise  again.     Great  power  this  day 


THt  THrirPH»  OF  TIUTB. 


U«  given  into  tliy  hand  ;  make 


wills 


;,  lord, 


e  sword ; 
I  thetn  all  now  whom  thy  heart  envies, 
Let  nni  thy  conscience  come  into  thine  eyea 
This  twelvemonth,  if  thou  lov'st  revenge  or  gain  ; 
I'll  teach  thee  to  cast  miais  to  blind  the  plain 
And  simple  eye  of  man  ;  lie  ahall  not  knon't. 
Nor  see  thy  wrath  when  'tia  upon  his  throat ; 
All  shall  be  carried  with  such  art  and  wit. 
That  what  thy  lust  acts  shaU  be  counted  fit : 
Then  for  attendanu  that  may  best  observe  thee, 
I'll  pick  out  sergeanla  of  my  band  to  serve  iheej 
Here's  Gluttony  and  Sloth,  two  precious  slaves. 
Will  tell  thee  more  than  a  whole  herd  of  knaves; 
The  worth  of  every  office  to  a  hair. 
And  who  bids  most,  and  how  the  markete  arc, 
Let  them  alone  to  smell ;  and,  for  a  need. 
They'll  bring  thee  in  bribes  for  measure  and  light 

bread ; 
Keep  thy  eye  winking  and  thy  hand  wide  ope. 
Then  thou  shall  know  what  wealth  is,  and  the  scope 
Of  rich  authority  ;  ho,  'tis  sweet  and  dear ! 
Make  use  of  time  (hen,  thou'st  but  one  poor  year. 
And  that  will  quickly  slide,  then  be  not  nice : 
Both  power  and  profit  cleave'  to  my  advice  ; 
And   what's  he  locks    his    ear   from    those   aweel 

charms, 

to   meet   gain  with   wide  •  stretcli'il 


There 


IS? 


s  a  poor,  thio,  threadbare  thing  call'd  Truth, 
1  give  thee  warning  of  her  ;   if  she  speak, 
Stop  both  thine  ears  close ;  most  professions  break 
That  ever  dealt  with  her  ;  an  unlucky  thing, 
She's  almost  sworn  to  nothing:  I  can  bring 

*  rlcow]  Old  ed«  "cleaues." 


A  thousB 

id  of 

our  parish 

besid 

es  queans, 

That  ne'e 

rkDev 

whatTru 

th  men 

nt,  nor  ever  means; 

Some  I c 

uldc 

[ill  out  her 

B,  e'en 

in  this  throng. 

If  I  would  shell 

my  child 

en,  ar 

d  how  strong 

I  were  in 

factio 

n.     'U., 

poor  a 

mple  stray ! 

Sbe-B  all 

ler  lifetime  find 

ngou 

one  way ; 

Sh'as  but 

one  fooliah  way. 

straight  on,  right  forward, 

And  yet 

he  makes  a  toil 

on'i,  a 

nd  goes  on 

With  care  and  fear,  forsooth,  when  I  c 

Over  a  hundred  with  delight  and  pleasure. 

Back-nays  and  by-ways,  and  fetch  in  my  treasure 

Af^r  the  wishes  of  my  heart,  by  shifts, 

Deceits,  and  slights  -."^  and  I'll  give  thee  those  gifts ; 

I'll  shew  thee  all  my  corners  yet  untold, 

The  very  nooks  where  beldams  hide  their  gold, 

In  hollow  walls  and  chimneys,  where  the  sun 

Never  yet  shone,  nor  Truth  came  ever  near  ; 

This  of  thy  life  I'll  make  the  golden  year ; 

Follow  me  then. 

Envy. 
Learn  now  to  scorn  thy  inferiors,  those'  most  love 

thee. 
And  trifih  to  eat  their  hearts  that  sit  above  thee. 

Zeal,  stirred  up  with  divine  indignation  at  the 
impudence  of  these  hell-hounds,  both  forces  their 
retirement,  and  makes  way  for  the  chariot  wherein 
Truth  his  mistress  sits,  in  a  close  garment  of  white 
satin,  which  makes  her  appear  thin  and  naked, 
figuring  thereby  her  simplicity  and  nearness  of 
that  embrace  her;  a  robe  of  white 
it,  filled  with  the  eyes  of  eagles, 
r  deep  insight  and  height  of  wisdom  ; 
tified  head  a  milk-white  dove. 


heart  to  thoa 
silk  cast  ov( 
shewing  her 


'  ilighh]  i. 


,  irtilicei). 


■  mml}  Old  ed>,  " 


and  on  each  shoulder  one,  die  sacred  embteins  of 
puriiy,  meekness,  and  innocency ;  under  her  feet 
Kcrpenis,  in  ihat  she  tTeads  down  alt  aubilety  and 
fraud ;  her  forehead  empaled  with  a  diadem  of  start, 
the  witness  of  her  eternal  descent ;  on  her  breast  a 
pure  round  crjstal,  shewing  the  brightnega  of  her 
thoughts  and  actions ;  a  tun  in  her  right  hand,  than 
which  nothing  is  truer :  a  fan,  filled  all  with  stat^ 
in  her  left,  with  which  she  parts  darkness,  and 
strikes  away  the  Ttpours  of  ignorance.  If  you 
hearken  to  Zeal,  her  cfaampion,  after  his  holy  anger 
is  past  against  Error  and  his  crew,  he  will  give  it 
you  in  better  terms,  or  at  least  more  amoothTy  and 
pleasingly. 

Bold  furies,  back  I  or  with  thii  scourge  of  fire, 

Whence  sparkles  out  religious  chaste  dettre, 

I'll  whip  you  down  to  darkness  :  this  a  place 

Worthy  my  mistress ;   her  eternal  grace 

Be  the  full  object  to  feast  all  these  eye*, 

But  thine  the  first— he  that  feeds  here  is  wiae 

Nor  by  the  naked  plainness  of  her  weeds 

Judge  thou  her  worth,  no  bumish*d  gloM  Truth 

That  crown  of  stars  shews  her  descent  from  heaven  ; 
Thai  robe  of  white,  fill'd  all  with  eagles'  eyes 
Her  piercing  sight  through  hidden  mysteries  ; 
Those  milk-white  doves  her  spotless  innocence; 
Those  serpents  at  her  feet  her  victory  shews 
Over  deceit  and  guile,  her  rankest  foes; 
And  by  that  crystal  mirror  at  her  breast 
The  deamesB  nf  her  conscience  is  exprest ; 
And  shewing  that  her  deeds  all  darkness  shun. 
Her  right  hand  holds  Trutli's  symbol,  the  bright 


4 


THE  TRIUMPHa  OF  ■ 

A  &n  of  stars  she  in  lier  other  i 
With  which  she  chase th  away  I 


I 


The  leords  q/' Truth. 

Man,  rais'd  by  faith  and  love,  upon  whose  head 
Honour  sita  fresh,  lei  not  thy  henrt  be  led, 
In  ignorant  nays  of  insolence  and  pride. 
From  her  tliat  to  this  day  hath  been  thy  guide ; 
I  never  ahew'd  tliee  yet  more  paths  than  one. 
And  thou  hast  found  sufBcient  that  alone 
To  bring  thee  hither  ;  then  go  forward  still. 
And  having  most  power,  first  subject  thy  will ; 
Give  the  first  fruits  of  justice  to  thyself, — 
Then  doat  thou  wisely  govern,  though  that  elf 
Of  sin  and  darkness,  still  opposing  me, 
Counsels  thy  appetite  to  master  thee. 
But  call  to  mind  what  brought  thee  to  this  day, — 
Was  falsehood,  cruelty,  or  revenge  the  way? 
Thy  lust  or  pleasures  ?  people's  curse  or  hate  1 
These  were  no  ways  could  raise  thee  to  this  state, 
The  ignorant  must  acknowledge  ;  if,  then,  from  me. 
Which  no  ill  dare  deny  or  sin  control. 
Forsake  rae  not,  that  can  advance  thy  soul : 
I  see  a.  blessed  yielding  in  thy  eye ; 
Thou'rt  mine;  lead  on,  thy  name  shall  never  die. 

These  words  ended,  they  all  set  forward,  this 
chariot  of  Truth  and  her  celestial  handmaids,  the 
Graces  and  Virtues,  taking  place  next  before  his 
lordship;  Zeal  and  the  Angel  before  that,  the 
chariot  of  Error  following  as  near  as  it  can  get;  alt 
passing  on  till  tbey  come  into  Paul's-Churchyard, 
where  stand  ready  the   live   islands,   those  dumb 


232  THE  TKirurBB  OF  TKCm, 


glories  (hat  I  sp&ke  of  before  upon  die  water :  upon 
tJie  heighth  of  iheM  five  iilands  sit  five  persons, 
representing  the  Fire  Senses,'' — Uttu,  Audiltu,  Toe- 
tui,  Guttut,  Olfactia,  or,  Seeing,  Hearing,  Touching, 
Tasting,  Smelling ;  at  their  feet  their  proper  em- 
blems,—  aquila,  cemu,  afaneut,  limia,  canif,  an 
eiLgle,  a  hart,  a  spider,  an  ape,  a  dog. 

No  sooner  can  your  eyes  take  leave  of  these,  but 
they  may  suddenly  espy  a  strange  ship  making  to- 
ward, and  that  which  may  raise  greater  astonish- 
ment, it  having  neither  sailor  nor  pilot,  only  upon 
a  white  silk  streamer  these  two  words  art  in  letters 
of  gold,  leritate  gubemoT, —  I  am  steered  by  Trutli. 
The  persons  thai  are  contained  within  ihis  little 
vessel  are  only  four  ;  a  king  of  the  Moors,  his 
queen,  and  two  attendants,  of  their  own  colour ; 
ihe  rest  of  iheir  followers  people  of  the  castle  that 
stands  in  the  middle  island,  of  which  company  two 
or  three  on  the  top  appear*  to  sight.  This  king 
seeming  much  astonied  at  the  many  eyes  of  such  a 
multitude,  utters  his  thoughts  in  these  words  : 


The  tperck  of  that  KiRO. 
I  see  amaaement  set  upon  the  faces 
Of  these  white  people,  wonderii^  and  lUangej 
Is  it  at  met  does  my  complexion  draw 
So  many  Christian  eyes,  that  never  law 

'  liu  Fm  SntHi]  "  Tb«  S«D>r.i  were  penooited 
King's  Entry  into  Landoa  in  1603,  and  arc  Tppmmced 
the  engnting  of  the  Arch  rrreitd  >l  Soper-Lane  end.  in 
Harnaon'i  Atvhcs.  Jonlan  iniroduccd  then  again  in  the 
Lonl  MaroT*!  P^aot  of  1^1  (sec  iinl.  ilag.  vol.  xcv.  L 
131).  11  ihi  lame  time  aauriog  the  Gronn'  Company  in  hi> 
prtfaiory  addms.  '  thai  in  tbcie  Thumphi  there  ii  nething 
deiignHt,  wiitlcn,  said,  or  sung,  that  «v«r  »a  presented  in 
anj  ihov  till  ihii  prcKOt  diTl'"     NicBOLi. 

•  -p<w]  Oldods." ■ 


1 

l«t  d»^^" 


THE  TRIUMPHS  OP  TRUTH. 

A  king  so  black  before  ?  no,  now  I  see 

Their  entire  object,  they're  all  racnnt  to  tliee, 

Grave  city-governor,  my  queen  and  I 

Well  honour'd  with  ihe  glances  that  [pass]  by. 

I  must  confess,  many  wild  thoughts  may  rise. 

Opinions,  common  murmurs,  and  fix'd  eyes, 

At  my  BO  strange  arrival  in  a  land 

Where  true  religion  and  her  temple  stand ; 

I  being  a  Moor,  then,  in  opinion's  lightness, 

As  far  from  sanctity  ns  my  face  from  whiteness. 

But  I  forgive  the  judgings  of  th'  unwise, 

Whose  censures  ever  quicken  in  their  eyes, 

Only  begot  of  outward  form  and  show  ; 

And  I  think  meet  to  let  such  censurers  know, 

However  darkness  dwells  upon  my  face, 

Trurh  in  my  soul  sets  up  the  light  of  grace; 

And  though,  in  days  of  error,  I  did  run 

To  give  all  adoration  to  the  sun, 

The  moon,  and  stars,  nay,  creatures  base  and  poor. 

Now  only  their  Creator  I  adore. 

My  queen  and  people  all,  at  one  time  won 

By  the  religious  conversation 

Of  English  mercbanis,  factors,  travellers, 

Whose  Trulh  did  with  our  spirits  hold  commerce, 

As  their  affairs  with  us;  following  their  path. 

We  all  were  brought  to  the  true  Christian  faith ; 

Such  benefit  in  good  example  dwells, 

It  oh  hath  power  to  convert  infidels  ; 

Nor  could  our  desires  rest  till  we  were  led 

Unto  this  place,  where  those  good  spirits  were  bred;    i 

And  sec  how  we  arriv'd  in  blessed  time 

To  do  that  mistress  service,  in  the  prime 

Of  these  Iier  spotless  triumphs,  and  t'  attend 

That  honourable  man,  her  late-sworn  friend. 


If  .ny  . 


nder  at  the 


afea 


Of  this  small  vessel,  which  all  weathers  drivf 


According  to  tlieir  rages,  where  Bp])cars 
Nor  mariner  nor  pilot,  arm'd  'gainst  fears. 
Know  this  came  hither  from  man's  guidaoce  free," 
Only  by  Truth  steerM,  as  our  souls  must  be : 

;  of  her  fair  templrs  stands  ! 

irs,  bow  low,  and  kUs  your  handJ>£, 


AndB. 
DorcA 


!  where  o 
rencc.Mo 


Her  goodnesses  are  such, 
We  cannot  honour  her  and  her  house  loo  much. 

All  in  the  ship  ami  those  in  the  castle  bowing 
iheir  bodies  to  the  temple  of  Saint  Paul ;  but  Error 
smiling,  betwixt  scorn  and  aiig«r,  to  see  sueh  a 
devout  humility  lake  hold  of  that  cotnplexion, 
breaks  into  these : 

Error. 
What,  have  my  aweet-Iac'd  devils  forsook  r 
Nay,  then,  ray  charms  will  have  enough  to  do. 

But  Time,  sitting  by   the    frame  of  Truth  1 
daughter's  chariot,  atiired  agreeable  to  hia  i 
dition,  with  his   hour-glass,    wings,   and  i 
knowing  best  himself  when  it  is  fittest  to 
goes  forward  in  this  manner : 

This  Time  hath  brought  t'  effect,  for  on  thy  day  I 
Nothing  but  Truth  and  Virtue  shall  display 
Their  virgin  ensigns;  Infidelity, 
Barbarism,  and  Guile,  shall  in  deep  darkness  lie.  | 
O,  I  could  ever  stand  still  thus  and  gaze ! 
Never  turn  glass  again  ;  wish  no  more  days. 
So  this  might  ever  last ;  pity  the  light 
Of  this  rich  glory  must  be  cas'd  in  night ! 


id«! ! 

4 


I 


TUE  TRIUMPHS  OF   TRUTH.  335. 

But  Time  must  on;  I  go,  'lis  so  decreed. 

To  bless  my  dauglilcr  Truth  and  all  her  seed 

With  joys  immortal,  triumplis  never  ending; 

And  as  her  liand  lifts  me,  to  thy  ascending 

May  it  be  always  ready,  worthy  son  I 

To  hasten  which  my  hours  shall  quickly  run. 

See'st  thou  yon  place  ?°  thither  I'll  weekly  bring 

thee. 
Where  Truth's  celestial  harmony  thou  shalt  hear  ; 
To  which,  I  charge  thee,  bend  a  serious  ear.— 
Lead  on,  Time's  smit  attendants  ! 


Then  the  6ve  islands  pass  along  into  Cbeapside, 
the  ship  next  after  them  ;  the  chariot  of  Truth  still 
before  his  lordship,  and  that  of  Error  still  chased 
before  it ;  where  their  eyes  meet  with  another  more 
subtle  object,  planting  itself  close  by  the  Little  Con- 
duit, which  may  bear  this  character, — the  true  form 
and  fashion  of  a  mount  triumphant,  but  the  beauty 
and  glory  thereof  overspread  with  a  thick,  sul- 
phurous darkness,  it  being  a  fog  or  mist,  raised 
from  Error,  enviously  lo  blemish  that  place  which 
bears  the  title  of  London's  Triumphant  Mount,  the 
chief  grace  and  lustre  of  the  whole  triumph.  At 
the  four  corners  sit  four  monsters,  Error's  disciples, 
on  whom  hangs  part  of  the  mist  for  their  clothing, 
holding  in  their  hands  little  thick  clubs,  coloured 
like  their  garments;  the  names  of  these  four  mon- 
'■ters,  Barbarism,  Ignorance,  Impudence,  Falsehood; 
who,  at  the  near  approaching  of  Truth's  chariot, 
are  seen  a  little  to  tremble,  whilst  her  deity  gives 
life  to  these  words  : 


'  yan  plact]  "  Saint  FinrE  Croas."     Marg,  Noli 


IHI  TBIUHniS  OF  TflUTII. 


ll'TB. 


WliBt's  herf  7  tlic  mist  of  Error  1  dare  bis  spite 

Stain  ihiB  Triumpliani  Mount,  where  our  delight 

Halh  been  divinely  fis'd  so  many  ages? 

Dare  darkness  now  breathe  forth  her  insolent  rag«i. 

And  hang  in  poisonous  vapours  o'er  the  place 

From  whence  we  receiv'd  love,  and  return'd  grae 

I  see  if  Truth  a  while  hut  turn  her  eyes, 

Thick  are  the  mists  that  o'er  fair  cities  risi 

We  did  expect  to  receive  welcome  here 

From  no  deform'd  shapes,  but  divine  and  clear; 

Instead  of  monsters  that  this  place  attends. 

To  meet  with  goodness  and  her  glorious  friends  ;  I 

Nor  can  they  so  forget  me  to  he  far. 

I  know  there  stands  no  other  envious  bar 

But  that  foul  cloud  to  darken  this  bright  day. 

Which  with  this  fan  of  stars  I'll  chase  away.— 

Vanish,  infectious  fog,  that  I  may  see 

This  city's  grace,  that  takes  her  light  from  me  I 

At  this  her  powerful  command  the  [mists]'  vanish 
[and]  give  way ;  [the]  cloud  suddenly  rises  and 
changes  into  a  bright-spreading  canopy,  stuck  thick. 
with  stars,  and  beams  of  gold  shooting  forth  round 
aboutit,thcmount  appearing  then  most  rich  in  beaaly 
and  glory,  the  four  monsters  falling  flat  at  the  foot 
of  the  hill  :  that  grave,  feminine  shape,  figuring 
London,  sitting  in  greatest  honour  :  next  above 
her,  in  the  most  eminent  place,  sits  Religion,  the 
model  of  a  fair  temple  on  her  head  and  a  burning 
lamp  in  her  hand,  the  proper  emblems  of  her  sanc- 
tity, watchfulness,  and  seal ;  on  her  right  hand  sits 
Liberality,  her  head  circled  with  a  wreath  of  g'  " 


plied  by  Nicholi. 


]  Thia  and  the  other  words  ia  bracket*  w 


THE  TRIUMPHS  0?  TRUTH,  237 

in  her  hand  a  cornucopia,  or  horn  of  abundance, 
out  of  nhich  rusheth  a  seeming  flood  of  gold,  but 
no  way  flowing  to  prodigality ;  for,  as  the  sea  is 
governed  hy  the  moon,  so  is  that  wealthy  river  by 
her  eye,  for  bounty  must  be  led  by  judgment ;  and 
hence  is  artfully  derived  the  only  diflTerencc  be- 
tween prodigality  and  bounty, — the  one  deals  her 
gills  with  open  eyes,  the  other  blindfold :  on  her 
led  side  sits  Perfect  Love,  his  proper  seat  being 
nearest  the  heart,  wearing  upon  his  head  a  wreaih 
of  white  and  red  roses  mingled  together,  the  an- 
cient witness  of  peace,  love,  and  union,  wherein 
consists  the  happiness  of  this  land,  bis  right  hand 
holding  a  sphere,  where,  in  a  circle  of  gold,  is  con- 
tained all  the  Twelve  Companies'  arms,  and  there- 
fore called  The  Sphere  of  true  Brotherhood,  or 
AnmUui  Avuyris,  the  Ring  ofLove:  upon  his  left 
hand  stand  two  billing  turtles,  expressing  thereby 
the  happy  condition  of  mutual  love  and  society: 
on  either  side  of  this  mount  are  displayed  the  cha- 
ritable and  religious  works  of  Loudon^ — especially 
the  worthy  Company  of  Grocers — in  giving  main- 
tenance to  scholars,  soldiers,  widows,  orphans,  and 
the  like,  where  are  placed  one  of  each  number : 
and  on  the  two  heights  sit  Knowledge  and  Modesty, 
Knowledge  wearing  a  crown  of  stars,  in  her  hand 
a  perspective  glass,  betokening  both  her  high  judg- 
ment and  deep  insight :  the  brow  of  Modesty  circled 
with  a  wreath  all  of  red  roses,  expressing  her  bash- 
fulness  and  blusbings,  in  her  hand  a  crimson  banner 
filled  with  silver  stars,  figuring  the  white  purity  of 
her  sharaefastnesa  ;  her  cheeks  not  red  with  shame 
or  guilt,  but  with  virgin  fear  and  honour.  At  the 
back  of  this  Triumphant  Mount,  Chastity,  Fame, 
Simplicity,  Meekness,  have  their  seats;  Chastity 
wearing  on  her  head  a  garland  of  white  rosea,  in 


when  lUa  ligbt 

Tbeo  to  lb;  dwige,  With  nwraet,  I  eowiifA  f 

That  woithjr  fOB  of  miM,  d?  vinwrnc  Men* 

Whom,  on  mj  Ion  aod  bksMng,  1  reqaire 

Xo  obterTe  thee  fahlifttUy,  and  his  dnire 

Xo  imitate  thy  irill,  and  there  lie  bounded ; 

For  power's  a  dangerons  sea,  which  must  he  aonQded 

With  truth  and  justice,  or  man  soon  nins  on 

'Gaifst  rocks  and  aheWea  of  diuolulion. 

Xhen,  that  thou  may'st  the  difference  e*eT  know 

"Xwixt  Truth  and  Error,  a  few  words  shall  shew: 

The  many  ways  that  to  blind  Error  slide 

Are  in  the  entrance  broad,  hell-mouth  is  wide; 

But  when  man  enters  far,  he  finds  it  then 

Close,  dark,  and  suait,  for  bell  returns  no  men : 


But  the  one  sacred  way  which  Truth  directs, 
Only  at  entrance  man's  alTection  checks. 
And  is  there  strict  alone  ;  to  which  place  throngs 
All  world's  afflictions,  caluinnies,  and  wrongs; 
But  having  past  those,  then  thou  lind'st  a  way 
In  breadth  whole  heaven,  in  length  eternal  day; 
Then,  following  Truth,  she  brings  thee  to  that  way  : 
But  first  observe  what  works  she  here  requires, 
Religion,  knowledge,  sanctity,  chaste  desires ; 
Then  charity,  which  bounty  must  express 
To  scholars,  soldiers,  widows,  Tatherless  : 
These  have  been  still  my  works,  they  must  be  thine ; 
Honour  and  action  must  together  shine, 
Or  the  best  part's  eclips'd  :  behold  but  this, 
Thy  Tery  crest  shews  bounty,  here  'tis  put; 
Thou  giv'st  the  open  hand,  keep  it  not  shut. 
But  to  the  needy  or  deserving  spirit 
Let  it  spread  wide,  and  heaven  enrols  that  merit. 
Do  these,  and  prove  my  hopeful,  worihy  son; 
Yet  nothing's  spoke  but  needfully  must  be  done; 
And  so  lead  forward. 

At  which  words  the  whole  Triumph  moves,  in 
his  richest  glory,  toward  the  cross  in  Cheap;  at 
which  place  Error,  full  of  wrath  and  malice  to  see 
hia  mist  so  chased  away,  falls  into  this  fury : 

Error. 
Heart  of  all  the  fiends  in  hell ! 
Could  her  beggarly  power  expel 
Such  a  thick  and  poisonous  mist 
Which  1  set  Envy's  snakes  lo  twist? 
Up,  monsters !  was  her  feeble  frown 
Of  force  lo  strike  my  officers  down  1 
Barbarism,  Impudence,  Lies,  Ignorance, 
All  your  hell-bred  heads  advance, 


£40  TitE  TBicupns  or  tedth. 

And  once  again  with  rotten  darkness  shroud 

This  Mount  Triumphant :  drop  down,  sulphurous 

At  which  the  mist  falls  again  and  hangs  over  all 
the  beauty  of  the  mount,  not  a  person  of  glory 
seen,  only  tlie  four  monsters  gather  courage  again 
and  take  their  seats,  advancing  their  cluhs  above 
their  heads  ;  which  no  sooner  perceived,  but  Truth 
in  her  chariot,  making  near  to  the  place,  willing 
still  to  rescue  her  friends  and  servants  from  the 
powers  of  Ignorance  and  Darkness,  makes  use  of 
these  words : 

TauTH. 
Dare  yet  the  works  of  ugliness  appear 
'Gainst  this  day's  brightness,  and  see  us  so  near  ? 
How  bold  is  sin  and  hell,  that  yet  it  dare 
Rise  against  us  !  but  know,  perdition's  heir, 
'Tia  idle  to  contend  against  our  power: 
Vanish  again,  foul  mist,  from  honour's  bower! 

Then  the  cloud  dispersing  itself  again,  and  all 
the  mount  appearing  glorious,  it  passeih  so  on  to 
the  Standard,^  about  which  place,  by  elaborate  action 
from  Error,  it  falls  again,  and  goes  so  darkened  till 
it  comes  to  St.  Laurence-Lane  end,  where,  by  the 
former  words  by  Truth  uttered  being  again  chased 
away,  London  thus  gratefully  requites  her  good- 
Eternity's  bright  sister,  by  whose  light 
Error's  infectious  works  still  fiy  my  sight, 
Receive  tby  servant's  thanks.— Now,  Perfect  Love. 
Whose  right  hand  holds  a  sphere  wherein  do  move 

'  Iht  Slmidiird}  See  note,  vol.  i,  p.  M8. 


THE  TBIUMPUS  OP  TRUTH,         241 

Twelve  blesi  Societies,  whose  helov'd  increase 
Styles  it  the  Bing  of  Brotherhood,  Faith,  and  Peace, 
From  thy  harmonious  lips  let  them  all  taste 
The  golden  counsel  that  makes  healtli  long  last. 

Perfect  Love  then  standing  up,  holding  in  bia 
right  hand  a  sphere,  on  the  other  two  billing  tur- 
tles, gives  these  words : 

Perfect  Love. 
First,  then,  I  banish  from  this  feast  of  joy 
All  excess,  epicurism,  both  which  destroy 
The  healths  of  soul  and  body ;  no  such  guest 
Ought  to  be  welcome  to  this  reverend  feast, 
Where  Truth  is  mistress ;  who's  admitted  here 
Must  come  for  virtue's  love  more  than  for  cheer. 
These  two  white  turtles  may  example  give 
How  perfect  joy  and  brotherhood  should  live ; 
And  they  from  whom  grave  order  is  expected. 
Of  rude  excess  must  never  be  detected  : 
This  is  the  counsel  wliich  that  lady  calls 
Golden  advice,  for  by  it  no  man  falls : 
He  that  desires  days  healthful,  sound,  and  blest. 
Let  moderate  judgment  serve  him  at  his  feaal : 
And  so  lead  on  ;  may  perfect  brotherhood  shine 
Still  in  [this]  sphere,  and  honour  still  in  thine  ! 

This  speech  so  ended,  his  lordship  and  the  Com- 
panies pass  on  to  Guildhall ;  and  at  their  returning 
back,  these  triumphs  attend  to  bring  his  lordship 
toward  Saint  Paul's  church,  there  to  perform  those 
yearly  ceremonial  rites  which  ancient  and  grave 
order  hath  determined  ;  Error  by  the  way  still  busy 
and  in  action  to  draw  darkness  oflen  upon  that 
Mount  of  Triumph,  which  by  Truth  is  as  oflen 


242  THE  TBinrraB  o?  racrn. 

dispersed :  then  all  returning  homewards,  full  of 
beauty  and  brightness,  this  mount  and  the  chariot 
of  Truth  both  placed  near  to  ibe  entrance  of  his 
lordship's  gale  near  Leadenhall,  London,  the  lady 
of  that  mount,  6rst  gives  utterance  to  these  words  : 


London. 

Before  the  day  sprang  from  the  morning's  womb 

I  rose,  my  care  was  earlier  tbaji  the  light, 
Nor  would  it  rest  till  I  now  brought  thee  home, 
Marrying  to  one  joy  both  thy  day  and  night; 
Nor  can  we  call  this  night,  if  our  eyes  count 
I'hc  glorious  beams  that  dance  about  this  mount; 
Sure,  did  not  custom  guide  'em,  men  would  say 
Two  noons  were  seen  together  in  one  day. 
The  splendour  is  so  piercing :  Triumph  seems 
As  if  it  sparkled,  and  to  men's  esteems 
Tlirew  forth  his  thanks,  nrapt  up  in  golden  flames, 
As  if  he  would  give  light  to  read  their  names, 
That  were  at  cost  this  day  to  make  him  shine. 
And  be  as  free  in  thanks  as  they  in  coin. 
But  see.  Time  checks  me,  and  his  scythe  stands 

To  cut  all  off;  no  state  on  earth  is  steady ; 
Therefore,  grave  son,  the  time  that  is  to  come 
Bestow  on  Trutli ;  and  so  thou'rt  welcome  home. 

Time,  standing  up  in  Truth's  chariot,  seeming  to 
make  an  oflTer  with  his  scythe  to  cut  offthe  glories 
of  the  day,  growing  near  now  to  the  season  of  rest 
and  sleep,  his  daughter  Truth  thus  meekly  atayg 
his  hand : 

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


I 


THB  TKIUUPHS  OF  TKVTH.  243 

The  power  that  heaven,  love,  and  the  city's  choice, 

Have  all  conferr'd  on  tliee,  with  mutual  voice, 

As  it  is  great,  reverend,  and  honourable, 

Meet  it  with  equal  goodness,  strive  t'  excel 

Thy  foimer  self;  as  tliy  command  exceeds 

Thy  last  year's  state,  so  let  new  acts  old  deeds  ; 

And  as  great  men  in  riches  and  in  birth — 

Heightening  their  bloods  and  joining  earth  to  earth — 

Bestovr  their  beat  hours  and  most  serious  cares 

In  choosing  out  fit  matches  for  their  heirs. 

So  never  give  thou  over  day  or  hour, 

Till  with  a  virtue  thou  hast  matcb'd  this  power  ; 

For  what  is  greatness  if  not  join'd  with  grace? 

Like  one  of  high  blood  that  hath  married  base. 

Who  seeks  authority  with  an  ignorant  eye. 

Is  like  a  man  seeks  out  his  enemy ; 

For  where*  before  his  follies  were  not  spread. 

Or  his  corruptions,  tlien  they're  clearly  read 

E'en  by  the  eyes  of  all  men ;  'tis  so  pure 

A  crystal  of  itself,  it  will  endure 

No  poison  of  oppression,  bribes,  hir'd  law. 

But  'twill  appear  soon  in  some  crack  or  flaw : 

Howe'er   men    soothe    their    hopes   with    popular 

breath, 
If  not  in  life,  they'll  find  that  crack  in  death. 
1  was  not  made  to  fawn  or  stroke  sin  smooth  ; 
Be  wise  and  hear  me,  then,  that  cannot  soothe  : 
I've  set  thee  high  now,  be  so  in  example, 
Made  thee  a  pinnacle  in  honour's  lemple. 
Fixing  ten  thousand  eyes  upon  thy  brow ; 
There  is  no  hiding  of  thy  actions  now. 
They  must  abide  the  light,  and  imitate  me. 
Or  be  thrown  down  to  fire  where  errors  be. 
Nor  only  with  these  words  thy  ear  1  feed. 
But  give  those  part  that  shall  in  time  succeed, 
t  uAerc]  I.  e.  whereni. 


iAi  THS  TBIUlfPHS  OF  TBOia. 

To  tliee  in  present,  and  to  them  to  come, 
ThaE  Truth  may  bring  you  all  with  honour  home 
To  these  your  gates,  and  to  those,  afler  these, 
or  which  your  own  good  actions  keep  the  keys. 
Then,  as  Uie  loves  of  thy  Society 
Hare''  flow'd  in  bounties  on  this  day  and  thee. 
Counting  aD  cost  too  little  for  true  art. 
Doubling  rewards  there  where  they  found  desert. 
In  thankfulness,  justice,  and  rirtuous  care, 
Perfect  their  hopes, — those  thy  requitals  are  ; 
With  fatherly  respect  embrace  'em  all. 
Faith  in  thy  heart  and  Plenty  in  thy  hallt 
Love  in  thy  walks,  but  Justice  in  thy  state. 
Zeal  in  thy  chamber.  Bounty  at  ihy  gate: 
And  GO  to  thee  and  these  a  blecsM  ^^t  ;— 
To  thee,  fair  City,  peace,  my  grace  and  l^htt 

Trumpets  sounding  triumphantly.  Zeal,  die 
champion  of  Truth,  on  horseback,  his  head  circled 
with  strange  fires,  appears  to  his  mistress,  and 
thus  speaks: 

See  yonder,  lady.  Error's  chariot  stands. 
Braving  the  power  of  your  incens'd  commandst 
Embolden'd  by  the  privilege  of  Night 
And  her  black  faction  ;  yet,  to  crown  his  iptte, 
Which  I'll  confound,  I  bum  in  divine  wrath. 

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

Zeal. 

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


THE  TRTOMFHS  OF  T&UTR.  245 

At  nliich  a  Same  shoots  from  the  bead  of  Zeal, 
which,  fastening  upon  that  chariot  of  Error,  seta  it 
an  fire,  and  all  the  beasts  that  are  joined  to  it. 

The  firework  being  made  by  master  Humphrey 
Nichols,  a  man  excellent  in  his  art ;  and  the  nhole 
work  and  body  of  the  Triumph,  wiih  all  the  proper 
beauties  of  the  workmanship,  most  artfully  and 
faithfully  performed  by  JohnGrinkin;  and  ihose 
furnished  with  apparel  and  porters*  by  Anthony 
Munday,  gentleman. 

This  proud  seat  of  Error  lying  now  only  glowing 
in  embers — being  a  figure  or  type  of  his  lordship's 
justice  on  all  wicked  offenders  in  the  time  of  his 

f;overnment — 1  now  conclude,  holding  it  a  more 
earned  discretion  to  cease  of  myself  than  to  have 
Time  cut  me  off  rudely  :  and  now  let  him  strike  at 
his  pleasure. 

'  apparel  aadforttri,  &c]  See  note,  p.  S20. 


I,  Gol<Umilh,/or  the  general  good  of  the 


Tllf  tnamier  of  kii  LoTdthip'i  EitlertaiHmfnl  on  Mi- 
tkaeltnat  dag  la*t,  hrmg  the  day  of  kit  honourable 
Election,  together  wilk  the  worthg  Sm  John  Swis- 
NEKTON,  Knight,  then  Lord  Mat/or,  Ike  learned 
and  jtidieitna  Sik  Hekrt  Montaoue,  Knight, 
matter  Recorder,  and  many  of  Ike  Rigkl  H'orthip- 
ful  the  Alilmntn  of  the  City  of  London,  at  ikat 
molt  famauM  and  admired  nork  of  the  /tiaming 
Stream,  from  Amtrell  Head  ailo  the  Ciilern  near 
hVmgton ;  being  the  sole  intention,  cost,  and  inr 
duttry  of  that  worthii  matter  Huoii  Min 
of  London,  C 
City. 

Pehfectiok,  which  ■■  the  cro^'n  of  all  indention, 
swelliug  now  high  with  happy  welcome  to  sll  the 
gUd  well-Khhers  of  her  admired  maturity,  the 
lather  and  master  of  this  famous  work,  exprewing 
thereby  both  his  thankfulness  to  heaven  and  bis 
seal  lo  the  city  of  London,  in  true  joy  of  heart  to 
•ee  his  linie,  travails,  and  expenses  so  successiTely 
greeted,  this  gives  entertainment  to  that  boiiour- 
able  assembly : — 

At  their  first  appearing,  the  warlike  music  of 
drums  and  trumpets  liberally  beats  tbe  sir,  sounds 
a*  proper  as  in  battle,  for  there  is  no  labour  that 
man  undertakes  but  hath  a  war  within  itself,  and 
perfection  makes  the  conquest ;  and  no  few  or 
mean  onseu  of  malice,  calumnies,  and  slanders, 
hath  this  resolved  gentleman  home  off,  before  his 
labours  were  invested  with  victory,  as  in  this  fol- 
lowing speech  to  those  honourable  auditors  then 
placed  upon  the  mount  is  mare  at  large  related. 

A  troop  of  labourers,  to  the  number  of  threescore 
or  upwards,  all  in  green  caps  alike,  bearing  in  their 
hantk  the  symbols  of  tbeii  several  emploj-tDenu 


THE  OPENING  OF  THE  HEW  RlVEa.  347 

in  so  great  3  business,  with  (Irurns  before  them, 
marching  twice  or  thrice  about  the  cistern,  orderly 
present  iheinselvea  before  the  mount,  and  after 
their  obeisance, 

The  Speech.i 
Long  have  we  labour'd,  long  desir'd  and  pray'd 
For  this  great  work's  perfection,  and  by  ih'  aid 
Of  heaven  and  good  men's  wishes  'tis  at  length 
Happily  conquer'd,  by  cost,  art,  and  strength  : 
Afler  five  years'  dear  expense  in  days, 
Travail,  and  pains,  beside  the  infinite  ways 
Of  malice,  envy,  false  suggestions, 
Able  to  daunt  the  spirit  of  mighty  ones 
In  wealth  and  courage,  this,  a  work  bo  rare, 
Only  by  one  man's  industry,  cost,  and  care, 
Is  brought  to  blest  elfect,  so  much  withstood, 
His  only  aim  the  city's  general  good; 
And  where''  before  many  unjust  complaints. 
Enviously  seated,  have'  of^  caus'd  restraints, 
Stop,  and  great  crosses,  to  our  master's  charge 
And  the  work's  hindrance,  favour  now  at  large 
Spreads  itself  open  to  him,  and  commends 
To  admiration  both  his  pains  and  ends. 
The  king's  most  gracious  love  :  perfection  draws 
Favour  from  princes,  and  from  all  applause. 

Then,  worthy  magistrates,  to  whose  content. 
Next  to  the  state,  all  this  great  care  was  bent. 
And  for  the  public  good,  which  grace  requires, 
Your  loves  and  furtherance  chiefiy  he  desires, 

>  Tht  Speechi  "  Anlhony  Munday,  who  in  his  edition  of 
Slow'i  Saney,  publiihed  in  1618,  lias  given  another  version 
of  the  present  iiary,  and  primed  '  the  Speech  aacordia^  u  it 
vrti  delivered  to  mee,"  sayi  il  wmb  Bpoken  by  '  one  m»n  m  be- 
half cf  all  Ihe  real;'  who,  of  course,  wai  either  some  hired  aclor. 
or,  very  prohably,[?]  Thomas  Middlelon  himself."  NicnoLi. 

''  tehm]  i. e.  whereaa.  '  Asm]  Old ed.  "hath." 


248  THE  ENTERTAINMEKT  AT,  &C. 

To  cheriali  these  proceedings,  which  may  give 
Courage  to  some  that  may  hereafter  live, 
To  practise  deeds  of  goodness  and  of  fame. 
And  gladly  light  their  actions  by  his  name. 

Clerk  of  the  work,  reach  me  the  book,  to  shew  | 
How  many  artd  from  such  a  labour  flow. 

These   lines    following  are   read  m  the  cler 
book: 

First,  here's  the  overseer,  this  tried  man 
An  ancient  soldier  and  an  artisan ; 
The  clerk  ;  next  him  the  mathematician  ; 
The  master  of  the  timber-work  takes  place 
Next  af^er  these  ;  the  measurer  in  like  caae  ; 
Bricklayer  and  enginer ;"  and  after  those 
The  borer  and  the  paviour  ;  then  it  shews 
The  labourers  next ;  keeper  of  Amwell-head ; 
The  walkers  last :  bo  all  their  names  are  read  ; 
Yet  these  but  parcels  of  six  hundred  more 
That  at  one  time  have  been  employ'd  before ; 
Yet  tliese  in  sight  and  all  ihc  rest  will  say. 
That  all  the  week  they  had  their  royal  pay. 

The  Speech  goes  on, 
Now  fur  the  fruits  then  :  flow  forth,  precious  spriM 
So  long  and  dearly  sought  for,  and  now  bring 
Comfort  to  all  that  love  thee ;  loudly  sing, 
And  with  thy  crystal  murmur  struck  together. 
Bid  all  thy  true  well'wishers  welcome  hither! 

At  which  words  the  flood-gate  opens,  the  stream 
let  into  the  cistern,  drums  and  trumpets  giving  it 
triumphant  welcomes  ;  and,  for  the  close  of  this  theif 
honourable  entertainment,  a  peal  of  chambera." 
n  rorm  of— engineer. 


CIVITATIS  AMOR, 


ifc. 


avUatii  Amor.  Tht  Cilii'i  Loue.  Ah 
al  ChtlMig  and  !Vkilt-liaU.  At  tht  iagfalt  receining  of  that  lUtu- 
lHo¥t  Hapt  af  Qreal  Britaine,  Ike  High  and  Mighty  Ckarltt,  To 
hee  created  Prinee  •>/  Walti,  Duke  tf  Coriawaa,  EarU  ^  Cktiler, 
ic.  TBgilher  mlh  Ike  Ample  Ordtr  and  SBlemHilf  if  kit  High- 
<UII4  erealiim,  at  il  vnu  etUbrated  in  k'u  Maieititi  Palace  iff 
WkilekaU.  on  Monday,  Ikr  ftmrth  ef  Nouembcr.  161S.  A>  alto 
Ihe  CtremenUi  «/  Ikat  AhcmhI  and  Honourable  Order  of  Ike 
Knigkli  of  Iki  Balh  1  And  alt  Ike  Triumphl  ikoune  in  kmour  of 
kit  Royall  Crealim.  London,  Printed  by  Nieholai  Oka  for 
Tkomat  Artker,  and  are  to  be  sold  at  ttit  skop  in  Popet-htad^ 
PeUaei.  1616.  4ta. 

Rfprinled  in  Nicholi'a  Pngreiiei  nf  King  Jamts,  vol.  iii. 


I 

i 


CIVITATIS  AMOR. 


The  ample  Order  and  Solemnity  of  Prince  Charlei  hii 

Creation, 

HiB  Majesty,  as  well  to  shew  the  bounty  of  liis 
affection  towards  his  royal  son,  as  to  settle  in  the 
hearts  of  his  loving  subjects  a  lively  impression  of 
hiB  kingly  care  for  continuance  of  the  happy  and 
peaceable  government  of  this  land  in  his  issue  and 
posterity,  having  determined  to  invest  his  princely 
Highness  with  those  titles  and  solemnities  [with] 
which  the  former  princes  of  this  realm  have  usually 
been  adorned ;  it  seemed  fittest — both  in  regard  of 
his  Highness'  years,  shewing  the  rare  proofs  of  pro- 
mising heroical  virtues,  and  also  that  it  would  be  a 
gladness  most  grateful  and  acceptable  to  the  com- 
monwealth— to  have  the  solemnities  thereof  royally 
Krformed  :  to  ilie  effecting  of  which,  the  Lord 
ayor  and  Aldermen  of  the  city  of  London,  with 
the  several  Companies,  honourably  furnished  and 
appointed,  and  marshalled  in  fair  and  comi^ly  order 
— both  by  the  care  and  industry  of  mnster  Nicholas 
Leale,  citizen  and  merchant  of  London,  and  one  of 
the  chief  captains  for  the  city ;  as  also  by  the  well- 
observed  and  deserving  pains  of  master  Thomas 
Sparro,  water-baily,  made,  for  that  day,  marshal 
for  the  water-triumphs^ were  ready  attending, 
with  a  great  train  and  costly  entertainment,  to  re- 
ceive his  Highness  at  Chelsea,  iheir  barges  richly 
deckt  with  banners,  streamers,  and  ensigns,  and 
sundry  sorts  of  loud-sounding  instruments  aptly 


i54  CIVITATI8  AMOH. 

placed  amongst  tliem.  And  for  his  Grace's  first 
entertainment,  which  nas  near  Cbelsea,  a  personage 
figuring  London,  silting  upon  a  sea-unicorn,  nith 
six  Tritons  sounding  before  her,  accompanied  both 
with  Neptune  and  the  two  rivers  TharoesiB  and 
Dee,  at  his  first  appearing  speaks  aa  followeth. 


[THE  CfTY-S'  LOVE. 
The  Enttrtainmml  by  Water  al  CheUea  and  TAj/f- 


A  personage  figuring  London,  sitting  upon  a  sea- 
unicorn,  with  sis  Tritons  sounding  before  her,  ac- 
companied ihither  with  Neptune,  and  the  two  rivers 
Thamesis  and  Dec,  at  the  first  appearing  of  Che 
Prince  speaks  as  foUowelh  :] 

London. 
Neptune,  since  thou  hast  been  at  all  ihts  pains, 

Not  only  with  thy  Tritons  to  supply  me. 
But  art  thyself  come  from  thy  utmost  mains 

To  feast  upon  that  joy  that's  now  so  nigh  me, 
To  make  our  loves  the  belter  understood, 
Silence  thy  watery  subject,  this  small  flood. 

Neptune    gives    action    toward   Thamesis,    and 
speaks : 

Neptune. 
By  the  timely  ebbs  and  flows, 
That  make  thee  famous  to  all  those 


That  muat  observe  thy  precious  tides 

That  Usue  from  our  ivealthy  sides, 

Not  a  murmur,  not  a  sound, 

That  may  this  lady's  voice  confound  !  — 

And,  Tritons,  who  by  our  commanding  power 

Altend  upon  the  glory  of  this  hour, 

To  do  it  service  and  the  city  grace. 

Be  silent  till  we  wave  our  silver  mace. 


LOND. 

iir'd  s. 


whose  loyalty, 


I 


And  y 

Service,  and  zeal,  shall  be  e 

Let  not  your  loving,  over-greedy  noise 

Beguile  you  of  the  sweetness  of  your  joys. 

My  wish  has  took  efiect,  for  ne'er  was  known 

A  greater  joy  and  a  more  silent  one. 

Then  turning  to  the  Prince,  [she]  ihus  speaks : 
Treasure  of  hope,  and  jewel  of  mankind, 

Richer  no  kingdom's  peace  did  ever  see, 
Adorn'd  in  titles,  but  much  more  in  mind. 

The  loves  of  many  thousands  speak  in  me, 
Who  from  [hat  blessing  of  our  peaceful  store. 

Thy  royal  father,  hast  receiv'd  most  free 


Honours,  that  wot 
And  ere  thy  t 

Thou  whose  moi 
Does  promise 


o'd  thy  virtues  long  before, 
me  were  capable  of  thee ; 
it  early  goodness,  fix'd  in  youth, 
comfort  to  the  length  of  time; 
As  we  on  earth  measure  heaven's  works  by  truth, 
And  things  which  natural  reason  cannot  climb. 
So  when  we  look  into  the  virtuous  aim 

Of  thy  divine  addiction,  we  may  deem, 
By  rules  of  grace  and  principles  of  fame. 

What  worth  will  be,  now  in  so  high  esteem, 

And  so  betimes  pursu'd ;  which  thought  upon, 

Never  more  cause  this  land  had  to  rejoice ; 


4 


2je 


CtrtTATIS  AMOK. 


But  chiefly  I,  the  ctty,  that  has  known 

jSlore  of  this  goad  ibaA  any,  and  more  choice. 
What  a  fair  glorious  peace,  for  many  years. 

Has  sung  her  sweet  calms  to  the  hearts  of  men, 
Enrich'd  our  bomea,  extinguish 'd  foreign  fears. 

And  at  this  hour  begins  her  bymns  agen  l*" 
Live  long  and  happy,  glory  of  our  days! 

And  thy  sweet  time  mark'd  with  all  fair  presage*. 
Since  heaven  is  pleas'd  in  thy  blest  life  to  raise 

The  hope  of  these,  and  joy  of  after  ages. — 
Sound,  Tritons ;  lift  our  loveE  up  with  bis  Ume, 
Proclaim'd  as  far  as  honour  has  a  name ! 

NlPTOX«. 


THE  ENTERTAINMENT  AT  WHITEHALL. 
This  personage,  figuring  London,  with  the  ■ 
Ttilons    sounding   before,    Neptune,    and    the    twA 
riiera,  being  arrived  at  Whitehall,  where  attend  the 
Prince's  landing  the  figures  of  two  sacred  deities, 
Hope  and  Peace,  thus  speaks : 

Lotfoojf. 
Hope,  now  behold  (he  fulness  of  thy  good, 

Which  thy  sick  comforts  hare  expected  longj-^  ' 
And  thou,  sweet  Peace,  the  harmony  of  this  Aood. 

Look  up,  and  see  the  glory  of  thy  song. 

Hope,  leaning  her  breast  upon  a  silver  tncbor, 
attended  with  four  virgins  all  in  white,  having 
silver  oars  in  their  hands,  thus  answers: 


c1vitat19  amor.  25  i 

Hope. 
Fair  and  most  fainous  cily,  ihou  hast  vvak'd  me 

From  ihe  sad  slumber  of  disconsolate  fear, 
Which  at  the  music  of  thy  voice  forsak'd  me, 

And  now  begin  to  see  my  tiomfoTts  clear ; 
Now  has  my  anchor  her  firm  hold  agen. 

And  in  my  blest  and  calm  security 
The  espectalions  of  all  faithful  men 

Have  their  full  fruits,  being  satisfied  in  me. 
This  is  the  place  that  I'll  cast  anchor  in, 

This,  honour's  haven,  the  hing's  royal  court ; 
Here  will  1  fasten  all  my  joys  agen. 

Where  all  deservers  and  deserts  resort : 
And  may  1  never  change  this  happy  shore 
Till  all  be  chang'd,  never  to  alter  more! 

Then  Peace,  sitting  on  a  dolphin,  with  her  sacred 
quire,  sings  this  song  following  : 

The  song  of  Peace, 
Welcome,  O  velcome,  stpring  of  joy  and  peace! 
Born  to  he  hoatmr'd  and  to  give  increase 
To  those  that  wait  upon  thy  graces; 
Behold  Ihe  many  thousand  faces 
That  make  this  amorousjlood 
Look  like  a  momng  wood. 
Usurping  all  her  crystal  spaces; 
'MoBgst  which  Tub  City's  Love  tsJiTst, 
Whose  expectation's  sacred  thirst 
Nothing  truly  could  allay 
But  such  a  prince  and  tuch  a  day. 
Welcome,  O  welcome!  all  fair  joys  attend  thee! 
Glory  of  life,  to  safety  we  commend  thee  ! 

Tao,  MiDDLETON." 

■  The.  Atiddlrlon]  The  occurrence  of  thi»  signttture  hat 
Beema  to  indicate  tlial  ihe  roUaning  pOT^oQ  of  the  tract  was 


258  ClVtTATlS  AMOK. 

[The  Prince"  landed  at  the 
Whiiehall,  the  nobility  and  his  officers  preceding. 
In  the  Hall  he  was  received  by  the  Duke  of  Len- 
nox, lord  steward  of  the  household,  the  controller 
and  officer*  of  the  household  ;  in  the  Great  Cham- 
ber by  the  Lord  Cbamberlain,  and  Viscount  Fenton, 
captain  of  the  guard.  He  proceeded  no  further 
thait  to  the  door  of  the  Presence.] 


I 


PRINCE  CBARLES  HIS  CREATION. 

The  day's  Triumph  ended,  to  the  great  honour 
of  the  city  and  content  of  his  Highness,  who,  out 
of  the  goodness  of  his  love,  gave  the  Lord  Mayor 
nnd  Aldermen  many  thanks,  on  Monday  following, 
the  lords  and  peers  of  the  realm  being  all  assembled 
at  Whitehall,  his  Highness  then  proceeded  in  this 
r  to  his  creation  : 


First  went  [the  Prince's  Gentlemen,  according  to 
their  degrees  ;  his  learned  Counsel ;  the  drums  ;3 
the  trumpets  ;  then  tlie  Heralds  and  Ofitcera  of 
Arms,  in  their  rich  coats;  [the  Earl  Marshal  with 
his  vierge;*  the  Lord  Chamberlain  with  his  white 
staff]  ;  next  followed  the  Knights  of  the  Bath,  being 
six-and-twcnty  in  number,  apparelled  in  long  robes 
of  purple  satin,  lined  with  while  ta&eia;  then  Sir 
William  Segar,  knight,  alias  garter  principal  king 
of  arms,  bearing  the  letters  patents ;  the  Earl  of 

■I  Thf  Prittce,  &c.]  "  Camden's  MS.  Volume,  in  Hwl,  MSS. 
GIT6i  whence  other  exlncti  are  giveii  between  crotchels  in 
ihp  foIloHin^  pages."    Nichols. 


CIVITATIS  AUOR.  259 

Sussex  the  purple  robea ;  the  train  borne  by  the 
Earl  of  Huntington,  the  aword  by  the  Earl  of 
Rutland,  the  ring  by  the  Earl  of  Derby,  the  rod 
by  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury,  the  cap  and  coronet 
by  the  Duke  of  Lennox  lord  steward.  His  princely 
Highness,  supported  by  the  Earls  of  Suffolk  and 
Nottingham,  came  bareheaded,  [followed  by  the 
principal  Gentlemen  of  his  chamber],  and  so  en- 
tered the  great  hall,  where  the  King  was  set  in  liis 
royal  throne,  and  the  whole  state  of  the  realm  in 
their  order. 

The  Prince  made  low  obeisance  to  his  Majesty 
three  times ;  and  aller  the  third  time,  when  he  was 
come  near  to  the  King,  he  kneeled  down  on  a  rich 
pillow  or  cushion,  whilst  Sir  Ralph  Winwood,  prin- 
cipal secretary,  read  his  letters  patents:  then  his 
Majesty,  at  the  reading  of  the  words  of  investment, 
put  the  robes  upon  him,  and  girded  on  the  sword ; 
iovesled  him  with  the  rod  and  ring,  and  set  the 
cap  and  coronet  on  his  head.  [When  the  patent 
was  fully  read,  it  was  delivered  to  the  King,  who 
delivered  it  to  the  Prince,  kissing  him  once  or 
twice.  At  the  putting  on  of  the  mantle,  and  de- 
livering of  the  patent,  the  trumpets  and  drums 
sounded.] 

With  which  ceremony  the  creation  being  accom- 
plished, the  King  arose,  and  went  up  to  dinner; 
but  the  Prince,  with  his  lords,  dined  in  the  hall, 
and  was  served  with  great  state  and  magniGcence, 
accompanied  at  his  table  with  divers  great  lords, 
as  the  Earl  of  SuSblk,  lord  treasurer  !  the  Earl  of 
Arundel,  lord  marshal ;  the  Earl  of  Nottingham, 
lord  admiral;  the  Duke  of  Lennox,  lord  steward; 
the  Earl  of  Pembroke,  lord  chamberlain;  the  Earls 
of  Shrewsbury,  Derby,  [Huntington],  Rutland,  and 
Sussex;  the  Prince  sitting  in  a  chair  at  the  upper 


260  CIVITATIS  AUOK. 

end,  and  the  resi  in  distance  about  four  yards  from 
liim,  one  over  against  another,  in  their  degrees; 
all  which  were  those  that  were  employed  in  seTeral 
ofEcen  of  honour  about  his  royal  creation,  [The 
Earl  of  Southampton  acted  as  cup-bearer,  the  Earl 
of  Dorset  as  carver,  the  Lord  Compton  as  sewer,' 
and  doctor  Sinhowsc,  the  Prince's  chiiplain,  said 
grace.]  At  another  table,  in  the  some  room,  on  the 
left  hand  of  the  Prince,  sat  the  Knights  of  the  Bath, 
all  on  one  side,  and  had  likewise  great  service  and 
attendance.  [After  some  music,  ibe  song  of  forty 
parts  was  sung  by  the  genllemen  of  the  chapel  and 
others,  silting  upon  degrees  over  the  screen  at  the 
north  end  of  the  Hall;  which  was  sung  again  by 
the  King's  commandment,  who  stood  as  a  spectator 
in  the  room  over  the  stairs  ascending  to  the  Great 
Chamber.]  About  the  midst  of  dinner.  Sir  William 
Segar,  knight,  alias  garter  principal  king  of  arms, 
with  the  rest  of  the  King's  Heralds  and  Pursuivants 
of  Arms,  approached  the  Prince's  table,  and  with  a 
loud  and  audible  voice  proclaimed  the  King's  style 
in  Latin,  French,  and  English,  thrice ;  and  the 
Prince's,  in  like  manner,  twice :  then  the  ttumpets 
sounding,  the  second  course  came  in ;  and  dinner 
done,  that  day's  solemnity  ceased. 

At  night,  to  crown  it  with  more  heroical  honour, 
forty  worthy  gentlemen  of  the  noble  societies  of 
Inns  of  Court,^  being  ten  of  each  house,  everyone 

•  niivr]  Whose  office  waa  to  >et  on  and  remove  the  dishes, 
tasle  them,  &c. :  tee  Steeveni's  note  on  Bhskeipeerc's  Mac- 
bilh,  Mct  i.  Bc.  7,  «nd  RichHrdBon-a  Did.  in  v. 

'  /nsi  a/Courl]  "  At  the  Middle  Temple  the  chargei  in- 
curred on  this  occasion  Bere  defrn^ed  b;  a  contribution  of 
thirty  shillings  From  each  Bencher;  every  Student  of  (even 
years'  standing  fifteen  shillings  ;  and  all  other  Genllemen  in 
Commons  ten  shillings  apiece.  Dugdale'i  Origimi  Jiiridiciatti, 
p.  ISO."     Nichols. 


I 


way  of  honourable  combat,  to  break 

es,  three  swords,  and  exchange  ten  blows 

vhose  names,  for  their  worthiness,  1  com- 

a  fame — began  thus  each  to  encounter  other: 

I  to  wrong  the  sacred  antiquity  of  any  of 

ises,  their  names  are  here  set  down  in  the 

e  order  as  they  were  presented  to  hia  Majesty ; 

viz,  of  the 

Middle  Temple — Master  Strowd,  Master  Izord. 
Gray's  Inn — Master  Counhop,  Master  Calton. 
Lincoln's  Inn — Master  Skinner,  Master  Windham. 
Inner  Temple — Master  Crow,  Master  Vernon. 
Middle  Temple — Master  Argent,  Master  Glascock, 
Gray's  Inn-Maater  Wadding,  Master  Si.  John, 
Lincoln's  Inn — Master  Griffin,  Master  Fletcher. 
Inner  Temple — Master  Parsons,  Master  Brocke.' 
Middle  Temple — Master  Bentley,  senior.  Master 

Gray's  Inn — Master  Selwyn,  Master  Paston. 
Lincoln's  Inn — Master  Selwyn,  Master  Clinch. 
Inner  Temple — Master  Chetwood,  Master  Smalman. 
Middle  Temple  —  Master  Bentley,  junior.  Master 

Gray's  Inn — Master  Covert,  Master  Fulkes. 
Lincoln's  Inn— Master  Jones,  Master  Googe, 
Inner  Temple— Master  Wilde,  Master  Chave. 
Middle  Temple — Master  Wansied,  Master  Good- 
Gray's  Inn — Master  Barton,  Master  Bennet. 
Lincoln's  Inn— Master  Hitchcock,  Master  Neville. 
Inner  Temple — Master  Littleton, *<  Master  Trever. 
[During  the  fifth  of  November,  the  anniversary 

'  flmcte]  Properly  flrooir,  Bccordiag  lo  NJeholn. 

I  Ptirt]  Properly  Score,  Bccordiiig  10  Nichols. 

"  Mailer  Liiilttmi   "  The  gr«t  Sit  Edward  Littleton," 


262  CIVITATIB  AMOR. 

of  the  Gunponilcr  Treaaon,  the  festivities  were 
suspended.  On  that  day  Bishop  Andrcns  preached 
before  the  King  at  Whitehall,  on  Paaliii«  sxvii.  3; 
and  his  Majesty  knighted  Sir  William  Segar,  garter 
king  at  arms.] 

On  Wednesday,  the  sixth  day  of  November,  to 
give  greater  lustre  and  honour  to  tliis  triumph  and 
Golemniiy,  in  the  presence  of  the  King,  Queen. 
Prince,  and  Lords,  fourteen  right  honourable  and 
noble  personages,  whose  names  hereafter  follow, 
graced  this  day's  magnificence  viih  running  at  the 
ring;''  viz. 

The  Duke  of  Lennox,  lord  steward. 

Earl  of  Pembroke,  lord  chamberlain. 

Earl  of  Ituiland. 

Earl  of  Dorset. 

Earl  of  Montgomery. 

Viscount  Villiers. 

Lord  ClilTord. 

Lord  Walden. 

Lord  Mord aunt- 
Sir  Thomas  Howard, 

Sir  Robert  Rich. 

Sir  Gilbert  Oerrard. 

Sir  William  Cavendish. 

Sir  Henry  Rich. 

Having  thus  briefly  described  the  manner  of  his 
Highness'  cn^acion,  with  the  honourable  service 
shewn  to  the  solemnity  both  by  the  lords  and  gen- 
tlemen of  the  Lins  of  Court,  I  should  have  set  a 
period,  but  that  the  Knights  of  the  Itath,  being  a 
principal  part  and  ornament  of  this  sacred  triumph, 

>  on  Plain.  &c.}  "  TLe  Diicouru  ii  iu  ihc  Biihop'i  ■  xcvi. 
ScrmoDi,'  llie  Eighth  on  [he  occBiion."  NiciioLt, — who  la- 
lerled  the  above  bracketnl  passage. 

<•  running  at  lAc  ring']  See  uule,  vol.  L  p.  390. 


4 


CIVITATIS  AMOR.  263 

I  cannot  pass  them  over  without  some  remem- 
brance :  therefore  thus  rnucli  out  of  the  Note  of 
Directions  from  some  of  the  principal  officers  of 
arms,  and  some  observation  of  credit  concerning 
the  order  and  ceremonies  of  the  knighthood  : — 

The  lords  and  other  that  were  (o  receive  the 
honourable  order  of  the  Bath  repaired  on  Satur- 
day, the  second  of  November,  to  the  Parliament 
House  at  Westminster,  and  there  in  the  aAernoon 
heard  evening  prayer,  observing  no  other  ceremony 
at  that  time,  but  only  the  heralds  going  before 
them,  in  their  ordinary  habits,  from  thence  to  King 
Henry  the  Seventh's  chapel  at  Westminster,  there 
to  begin  their  warfare,  as  if  ihey  would  employ 
their  service  for  God  especially ;  from  whence, 
after  service  ended,  they  returned  into  the  chamber 
they  were  to  sup  in.  Their  supper  was  prepared 
all  at  one  table,  and  all  sate  upon  one  side  of  the 
same,  every  man  having  an  escutcheon  of  his  arms 
placed  over  his  bead,  and  certain  of  the  King's 
officers  being  appointed  to  attend  them.  In  this 
manner,  having  taken  their  repast,  several  beds 
were  made  ready  for  their  lodf^ing  in  another  room 
hard  by,  afler  the  same  manner,  all  on  one  side ; 
their  beds  were  pallets  with  coverings,  testers,  or 
canopies  of  red  say,'  but  they  used  no  curtains. 

The  Knights  in  the  meanwhile  were  withdrawn 
into  the  bathing-chamber,  which  was  the  next  room 
to  that  which  they  supped  in;  where  for  each  of 
them  was  provided  a  several  bathing-tub,  which 
was  lined  both  within  and  without  with  white  linen, 

'  loy]  Is  commonly  explained — "a  thin  lorl  of  silk." — "  ■ 
■pecies  of  lilk,  or  railicr  utin." — Malone  (note  on  Sbske- 
spearc's  Hmi-y  Si^lh,  Fart  Seeond,  act  Iv.  se.  7.)  remnrks,  ■'  it 
sppeara  from  Minslicu'i  Did.,  UU,  tliul  lay  vu  a  kind  of 
serge."     Catgrave  hni  "  Segilu,  serge,  or  icy." 


264 

ADd  coTered  wiih  red  say ;  wherein,  aRer  tliey  have 
•aid  their  prayers  and  commended  themselves  to 
God,  the  J  baihe  themaetvea,  thnt  thereby  they 
niighl  be  put  in  mind  to  be  pure  in  body  and  soul 
Trom  thencerorth  ;  and  after  the  bath,  they  betook 
themselres  to  their  rest. 

Early  the  next  morning  they  were  anakened 
with  music,  and  at  their  uprising  invested  in  their 
hermits'  habits,  nhich  was  a  gown  of  gray  cloth, 
girded  close,  and  a  hood  of  the  same,  and  a  linen 
coif  underneath,  and  an  handkerclier  banging  at 
his  girdle,  cloth  stockings  soled  with  leather,  but 
no  shoes ;  and  thus  apparelled,  their  esqoires  go- 
vernors, with  the  heralds  wearing  the  eoats  of  arms, 
and  sundry  sorts  of  wind  instruments  before  thenii 
they  proceed  from  their  lodging,  the  meanest  in 
order  foremost,  as  the  night  before,  until  they  came 
to  the  chapel,  where,  a(\er  service  ended,  their  oath 
was  ministered  unto  them  by  the  Earl  of  Arundel, 
lord  marshal,  and  the  Earl  of  Pembroke,  lord  cham- 
berlain, in  a  solemn  and  ceremonious  manner,  all 
of  them  standing  forth  before  their  stalls,  and  at 
their  coming  out  making  low  reverence  towards 
the  altar,  by  which  the  commissioners  sate :  then 
were  tliey  brought  up  by  the  heralds  by  two  at 
once,  the  chiefest  first,  and  so  the  rest,  till  all  suc- 
cessively had  received  their  oaih,^  which  in  etfeci 

*  iMtoalh]  "Of  this  ancient  cihoTtaliotiorwpll-wiihilte. 
wliich,'  Mf*  Cundrn,  '  ii  coniinonly  ollfd,  but  improperly, 
an  oalhr,'  >k  lome  curioiu  pirticuUra  in  vol.  ii.  p.  337  [ot 
Prng.  a/  Kitig  Jomei].  Il  was  read,  continue*  Cimdm,  fiist 
(D  llic  Lord  Maluavn*,  bj  the  Earl  oS  Arundel  hii  faiher,  in 
(be  chancier  of  Ecrl  Msnhsl,  and  (lien  to  the  other  Knifriiu 
cilher  by  tbe  Earl  or  by  the  Lord  Chambrrlain,  oho  Oien 
It  witb  the  Dean  to  rtsd  (he  ume  Id  the  Lord  Percy,  wbo 


bad  been  forced  to  withdraw  hjnuelf  from  iDdiipoution." 


ClVITATtS  AUOR. 


265 


I 
I 


was  this :  That  above  all  things  they  should  seek 
'  the  honour  of  God,  and  inainienance  of  true  reli- 
gion ;  love  their  sovereign  ;  serve  their  country ; 
help  maidens,  widows,  and  orphans  ;  and,  to  the 
utmost  of  their  power,  cause  equity  and  justice  to 
be  observed. 

This  day,  whilst  they  were  yet  in  the  chapel, 
wine  and  sweetmeats  were  brought  them,  and  they 
departed  lo  their  chamber  to  be  disrobed  of  their 
hermits'  weeds,  and  were  jevesled  in  robes  of  crim- 
son taffeta,  implying  they  should  be  martial  men, 
the  robes  lined  with  white  sarcenet,  in  token  of 
sincerity,  having  white  hats  on  their  heads  wiih 
white  feathers,  white  boots  on  their  legs,  and  white 
gloves  tied  unto  the  stringa  of  their  mantles;  all 
which  performed,  they  mount  on  horseback,  the 
saddle  of  black  leather,  the  arson'  white,  stirrup- 
leathers  hlack  gilt,  the  pectoral™  of  black  leather, 
with  a  cross  paty  "  of  silver  thereon,  and  without  a 
,  crupper,  the  bridle  likewise  hlack,  with  a  cross 
paty  on  the  forehead  or  frontlet;  each  knight  be- 
tween his  two  esquires  well  apparelled,  his  footmen 
attending,  and  his  page  riding  before  him,  carrying 
hia  sword,  with  the  hilts  upward,  in  a  white  leather 
belt  without  buckles  or  studs,  and  his  spurs  hanging 
thereon.  In  this  order  ranked,  every  man  according 
lo  his  degree — the  best  or  chiefest  lirst — they  rode 
fair  and  softly  towards  the  court,  the  trumpets 
sounding,  and  the  heralds  all  the  way  riding  before 
them.  Being  come  to  the  King's  hall,  the  Marshal 
meets  them,  who  is  to  have  their  horses,  or  else 
100».  in  money,  for  his  fee;  then,  conducted  by 
the  heralds  and  others  appointed  for  that  purpose, 

'  arim'i  i.e.  saddlr-bow. 

11- piece. 


°  faty]  Properly,  pal^e. 


2G0  CITITATIS  AMOS. 

his  Majesty  silting  uniler  his  cloih  ofcGlale,  g«ve 
ro  them  their  knighthood  in  this  manner: 

First,  the  principal  lord  that  is  to  Teceire  the 
order  comrs,    led   by   his    two   esquires,   and    his 

Kgt  before  him  bearinj;  his  sword  and  spurs,  and 
.rrtelh  down  before  his  Majesty  ;  the  Lord  Cham- 
berlain takes  the  sword  of  the  page  and  delivers 
it  to  the  King,  "ho  puts  the  belt  over  the  neck  of 
tli«  knight,  aslope  his  breast,  placing  the  sword 
under  his  kft  arm;  the  second  nobleman  of  the 
chief  about  the  King  puts  an  his  spurs,  the  right 
spur  6rst ;  and  so  is  the  ceremony  performed.  In 
this  sort  Lord  Maltraver^  son  anil  heir  to  the  EsrI 
of  Arundel,  lord  marshal,  which  was  the  principal 
of  this  number,  being  first  created,  the  rest  were 
all  cDosn^uentlv  knighted  alike.  And  when  the 
solrmnity  tWrcof  was  fully  finished,  they  all  re- 
lunvrd  in  order  as  ihej  came,  saving  some  small 
diflTcrmrr,  in  thai  the  yoangnl  or  meanest  kotgfat 
went  nnn  forrtnosi,  and  their  pages  behind  them. 

Coming;  back  to  the  Parliament  House,  theJi 
dinner  w«s  rvadjr  prvfMrvd,  in  the  same  room  and 
■ftrt  iW  fuluon  aa  their  rapper  was  the  night  be- 
fore ;  bat  being  set.  iWy  were  not  to  taste  of  any 
thinf  tlkU,  tniM  bc&cc  tbevo.  bat,  with  a  modest 
eamMg*  uad  gn«efal  >b«tiaw>ce,  to  refrain ;  dirers 
kiada  «f  ««ref<  nuaic  aOBadinf  the  while ;  and  after 
n  tomtfmiM  Iiim  of  MKiafc  u  arise  and  w  itbdraw 
thw— ahrta.  tMtiaf  (W  taUe  ao  fwiusbed  to  their 
Mq«ire«  wU  laM. 

AWn  •«•  of  dM  dwk  in  the  aftemoon  thej 
««de  afMB  t»  «««rt.  M  hwr  aerrice  in  ibe  King's 
ckofft,  k«c|iint  tk«  taM*  min  Aey  did  at  their 
rMwm  ftwM  tlwM*  in  (Iw  nwtMi^  every  knight 
(tdiag  h«tw«e«  hi*  rant  eaqnire*.  aod  his  page  ktl- 
hmiaif  him.    At  iMr  tMnPMe  tMo  Ac  d»^  the 


heralds  conducting  them,  they  make  a  solemn  r 
verence,  the  youngest  knight  beginning,  the  re 
orderly  ensuing;  and  so  one  atter  another  take 
their  standing  before  their  stalls,  where  all  being 
placed,  the  eldest  knight  maketh  a  second  re- 
verence, which  is  followed  to  the  youngest ;  and 
then  all  ascend  into  their  stalls,  and  take  their 
accustomed  places.  Service  then  beginneth,  and 
ia  very  solemnly  celebrated  with  singing  of  divers 
anthems  to  the  organs  ;  and  when  the  time  of  their 
offertory  is  come,  the  youogesi  knights  are  sum- 
moned forth  of  their  stalls  by-  the  heralds,  doing 
reverence  first  within  their  stalls,  and  again  after 
they  are  descended,  which  is  likewise  imitated  by 
all  the  rest;  and  being  all  thus  come  forth,  stand- 
ing before  their  stalls  as  at  first,  the  two  eldest 
knights,  with  their  swords  in  (heir  hands,  are 
brought  up  by  the  heralds  to  the  altar,  where  they 
offer  their  swords,  and  the  dean  receives  them,  of 
whom  they  presently  redeem  them  with  an  angelP 
in  gold,  and  then  come  down  to  their  former  places, 
whilst  two  other  are  led  tap  in  like  manner.  The 
ceremony  perfonned  and  service  ended,  they  de- 
part again  in  such  order  as  they  came,  with  accus- 
tomed reverence.  At  the  chapel-door,  as  they  came 
forth,  they  were  encountered  by  the  King's  master 
cook,  who  stood  there  with  his  white  apron  and 
•leeves,  and  a  chopping -knife  in  his  hand,  and 
challenged  their  spurs,  which  were  likewise  re- 
deemed with  a  noble  ■•  in  money,  threatening  them, 
nevertheless,  that  if  they  proved  not  true  and  loyal 
to  the  King,  his  lord  and  master,  it  must  be  hia  , 
office  to  hew  them  from  their  heels. 


angtq  S«  n, 


S68  civiTATn  Auoa. 

On  MoDilay  morning  they  all  met  together  nigh 
at  the  coon,  where,  in  a  private  room  appointed 
for  ihcHt,  tbey  w«re  cloihed  in  long  robes  of  purple 
aaQa.  «tth  hooda  of  the  utae,  all  lined  and  edged 
■bout  with  white  laAeia;  and  ihus  apparelled,  they 
gare  their  attendance  upon  ibe  Prince  at  his  crca- 
lioBi  and  dined  that  day  in  his  presence,  at  a  side- 
board, as  i*  already  declared. 


7^  A*«w*  of  nek  LonU  atui  Gtnllemai  at  trere  made 
Kmigkti  of  the  BaXk,  in  hm<mr  of  kit  Highntti 
Crtatitm. 
JamM  Lord  MiUravors,  ton  and  heir  to  the  Earl 

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

Northtiniberland. 
James  liOid  Wriotliesley,  ton  to  the  Earl  of  South- 
Edward  [1  heophilus]  Lord  Clinton,  ton  to  the  Earl 

of  Lincoln. 
Edward  Lord  Beauchamp,  grandchild  to  the  Earl 

of  Hertford. 
[George]  I^rd  Berkeley. 
[John]  Lord  Mordaunt. 

Sir  Alexander  Erskine,  >on  lo  the  Viscount  Penton. 
Sir   Henry   Howard,    aecond   son   to   ibe   £larl  of 

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

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

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

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


CIVIIATIS  AUOR.  269 

Sir  Montague  Benie,i  elJest  son  lo  the  Lord  Wil- 

loughby  of  Eiesby. 
[Sir  William  Slourton,  son  to  the  Lord  Stourlon.] 
Sir  Henry  Parker,  son  lo  the  Lord  Mounteagle. 
Sir  Dudley  North,  eldest  son  to  the  Lord  North. 
Sir  Spencer  Compton,  son  and  heir  to  Lord  Comp- 

Sir  William  Spencer,  son  to  the  Lord  Spencer, 
{S'lT  William  Seymour,  brother  to  the  Lord  Beau- 

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

John. 
Sir  John  Cavendish,  second  son  to  the  Lord  Caven- 

Sir  Thomas  Neville,  grandchild  to  the  Lord  Aber- 
gavenny. 
Sir  John  Roper,  grandchild  to  ihe  Lord  Tenham, 
Sir  John  North,  broiher  to  the  Lord  North. 
Sir  Henry  Carey,  son  to  Sir  Robert  Carey. 

And  for  an  honourable  conclusion  of  the  King's 
royal  grace  and  bounty  shewn  to  this  solemnity, 
his  Majesty  created  Thomas  Lord  EUesmere,  lord 
chancellor  of  England,  Viscount  Brackley  ;  the 
Lord  Knolles,  Viscount  Wallingford  ;  Sir  Philip 
Stanhope,  Lord  Stanhope  of  Shelford  in  Notling- 
hamshire  :    these  being  created''  on  Thursday  the 

>  Birlit]  Old  ed.  •'  flanue." 

'  Ikrst  being  crtatai,  &£.]  Thi«  conEluding  eenlence  ii 
omitted  by  Nichola,  who,  instead  of  it,  givei  the  following 
^m  Camden's  MS.  volume  in  Harl.  MSS.  S176: 

"  On  the  7lh  of  Novemher  about  five  of  ihe  clock  in  (he 
nfternoon,  they  mett  in  llie  Couniell- chamber,  where  thf  y  and 
Ibe  Lord!  appointed  lo  carry  their  ornamenu  and  the  auiat- 
anW  pult  on  iheir  roabes,  Ihe  Earlea  and  Viscounia  their  aur- 
eoles of  crimaon  velvell  vith  close  alee  vei,  having;  short  flap  pes 
hanging  upon  their  ahonlderB,  then  ihcir  hooda  and  after- 


270  CIVITAttS  AUOB. 

seventh  of  November,  ihe  Lord  Chancellor  Vis 
Brackley  being  led  out  of  the  council- chamber  into 
tlie  privy  fiallery  by  the  Earl  of  Montgomery  and 
Viscount  Villiers. 


M  ofnuie  ■nd  coronctn.  or  niKcr  circulpiit  for  ih(  Vi(- 
couDla.  Tlity  putcd  from  ihtoce  oT«r  ih«  Timi  [Terrace] 
into  the  Princ  Gulltrr.  the  llrraldi,  Kingi  of  Atmu,  Garter 
OTTing  ibr  Purnt.  'the  Lord  Compton  io  hi*  Pirliimral 
raabci,  c*r7in(  the  Miatle,  lb*  Lord  Wfotwcntti  the  Capp 
afnUtc  and  Circulel,  the  Lonl  Ctiancellour  Lord  Etletmere 
■in  hii  nircolc  and  hood  with  hii  tmrd  bj  hi*  rtdc  in  a  uniall 
hilt,  uiisled  bj  Hit  Earlo  of  MoD^mcry  aad  Vitcount  Vil- 
Itn,  with  ihrir  cappei  of  »(at  on.  At  Ibr  GaIItiry-dr<Tr,  the 
Lord  Chimberlaiae  Didl  ihrm,  and  placing  hiiiueiraftFr  ibe 
Kings  of  Amet,  prrcenlfd  them  to  thr  Kiog,  who  tait  there 
*ilh  thcQuHn  Iiul  ihe  Prince.  Girlcr  preienlcd  the  PateDI 
to  the  Lord ChimberUine.  he  lo  the  King:  the  KingdrliTercd 
the  urae  lo  Sit  Ralph  Winiiood  (he  Seoeurr,  oho  [read  the 
Hme] ;  at  the  »ard*/nnu  tl  rmrimui  the  Roabet  were  de- 
hrered  to  the  King.Hho  ddiieml  the  tame  lotbe  Anisunti, 
■ho  inieiied  him  thrrwith,  and  the  like  sith  Ihe  Capp  of 
mate  and  the  Circnlett  iheruppoo,  and  then  the  Eatlet  Axial- 
aoix  puti  on  their  cippn  of  eitsle.  When  the  Patent  wai 
full;  read,  and  he  ihut  created  Viicouot  BrackJef,  the  Irnm- 
pelli  and  dnimaies  (landing  niihout  aou&ded. 

"  Then  wa>  brougbt  in  ihe  Lord  Kmrilea,  the  Lord  Careir 
carTing  the  Mantle,  the  Lord  Daren  the  Capp  of  Ealate, 
aaaiated  bjr  the  Earle  of  Sufblk  Lord  Ti«afar«r  and  V'iaeaunt 
LUIe,  and  io  like  mamser  ereUed  TiatooBt  ff  aJlingTord. 

**  Anerward  Sir  Philipa  Staahop  «aa  brtMigfat  in  his  mr- 
cote  of  (carletl,  the  Lotd  Dennf  caTTinn  hi*  Roabe,  the  Lord 
Conpton  and  ibe  Lord  Norrii  aiaiating  him.  and  wii  created 
Lord  Slanhop  of  Shclford.  Then  ther  reioumed  that  wif 
thc7  came  to  the  Connsell- chamber,  firit,  ViicouDt  Bracklrj. 
then  ViicDUDt  Watlingferd  and  ihe  Lord  Staahop.  in  auch 
order  la  thcj  seni,  the  irumpctta  and  dnuairiei  MHioding." 


THE  TRIUMPHS 


OP 


LOVE  AND  ANTIQUITY. 


liorqflhe 


I'ht  Trivmphi  rf  Lone  and  Aniiqiiifg.  /in  Haaimrablt  Seltm- 
«ilie  ptrfarmrd  Ihnmgh  Ike  Cilie,  at  the  cmffimialiaa  i  ' 
bluhmiHt  of  the  Right  HenmrabU  Sir  Wimam  Cocka^ 
•»  the  qfict  ef  hii  MaietlUt  LievlenanI,  the  Lor, 
Famaui  CitU  of  London :  Taking  begnodng  in  the 
Lordthipt  going,  and  perfecting  it  eelfe  after  hit  retume  from 
reteiniog  the  oalh  qf  MaioraUy  at  Weitmntter,  on  the  mm-row 
after  Symaa  and  Jadti  Hay.  Oetober  29.  16;9,  By  The:  Mid- 
■lUlon.   Ge«t.    London.  Printed  by  A'icAo/flj  Okei.  1619.  4tw. 

Itepriated  in  Nicbola'i  Fregretiii  of  King  Jama,  vol.  iil. 


'ii  the  honour  of  him  to  icham  the  noble  Fraiemitff  of 
Skianers,  hi*  worthy  bmthere,  have  debated  their 
lovei  in  coifb/  Triumpht,  the  Right  Honourabh  SiK 
William  Cockainb,  Knight,  tord Mayor  o/thit 
renoumed  City,  and  Lord  Oeneral  of  hit  Military 


Love,  triumph,  honour,  all  the  glorious  graces 
This  day  holds  in  her  gift;  Hx'ii  eyes  and  faces 
Apply  tliemaelves  in  joy  all  to  your  look  ; 
In  duty,  then,  my  service  and  the  book, 

At  yoar  Lordship's  command, 

ThO.  MlDDLETOH. 


THE  TRIUMPHS 


LOVE  AND  ANTIQUITY. 


It'  forfign  nations  liave  been  struck  with  adtniralioti 
at  tlie  form,  atate,  and  splendour  of  some  yearly 
iriumphs,  wherein  Art*  haih  been  but  weakly  imi- 
tated and  most  beggarly  worded,  there  is  fair  hope 
that  things  where  invention  flourishen,  clear  Art 
and  her  graceful  proprieties  should  receive  favour 
and  encouragement  from  the  content  of  the  apee- 
tator,  which,  next  to  the  service  of  his  honour  and 
honourable  Society,  is  the  principal  reward  it  looks 
for ;  and  not  despairing  of  that  common  favour — 
which  is  often  cast  upon  the  undeserver,  through 
the  distress  and  misery  of  judgment — this  takes 
delight  to  present  itself. 

And  firat,  to  begin  early  with  the  love  of  the  city 
to  his  lordship,  let  me  draw  your  attentions  to  his 
honour's  entertainment  upon  the  water,  where  Ex- 
pectation, big  with  the  joy  of  the  day.  but  beholding'' 
to  free  love  forlanguage  and  expression,  ihua  salutes 
the  great  master  of  the  day  and  triumph. 

*  wAirdn  if r(,  &C.  ]  Alluding  !a  the  pogcatiu  of  Munday  : 
leenole,  p,  219. 

'  Molding]  Sc«  note,  p.  3tf. 


^H         rtt                   «n  nnnmn  of                            ^^^ 

f             n.^uaim,i.U.MMp,^K.ti,wMr.               J 

1.  tW  «Uy'i  low,  tl»e  Ciiy*»  general  love,                                 ■ 

AD  ll»l  UlaU  mi  ••nU;  may  •«:                                    1 

Ho>  Ml  mka  >j<  ■umb  •<  Ik  jo;  or  diee : 

TW  mora,  btOMO  1  an  mth  coofidence  mt 

Dmm  mil  bn  »iU  bo  w<a  moidi'd  to-dov : 

Ami  Wnia  Ik  fattu  pilj  wiU  •pfKor. 
TUimoMlicaalmtMloagullion  lyear; 

tlao't  lono  •a  km  to  cton'  lln  eod  Ai.n : 

irtkooo  ilmdl  bil.  »kidi  tmnol  ouil;  die. 

Tliy  good  tnAt  ini  Aet  to  cttrnity. 

Tk  lugoMos  of  ihj  oonfc,  goin  every  day ; 

8<\  mMiy  Teo«  tkoo  goio'it  thai  some  have  lost ; 
For  they  tW  iKiak  ilwir  care  is  at  g;re«  cost. 

IflWy  do  oat  good  io  time  so  aoioU. 

^             neTtlmlntk<iry<orh>la«oocd.yioaIli 

■  WUdtihoBmlKi.oM.ye.>  to  mead. 

■  HeaSalliMo«oalno._ygTooiidi 

■  Sollianditaoa.sitmiUcommtobeo< 

■            Collacaln..p>iil..R4e<mtU.  hoot,  trkli  can. 

■           TbioksorViscliaijeamlomk.okatiie.lteyaioi 

H            Wovhs  more  ftood  in  ooc  year  tlmoaoaae  mien: 

H             Nor  is  this  spoken  any  to  dettMt, 

^1             Bnt  all  t'  encourage  to  pot  tiotli  ia  act. 

AMD  AHIiaUITT. 


At  [his  triiimpliant  hour;  ill  cnuses  hide 
Their  leprous  faces,  daring  not  t'  abide 
The  brightness  of  this  day  ;  and  in  mine  ear 
Methinks  the  Graces'  silver  chimes  I  hear. 
Good  wishes  are  at  work  now  in  each  heart, 
Throughout  this  sphere  of  brotherhood  play  their 

Chiefly  thy  noble  own  fraternity. 
As  near  in  heart  as  they're  in  place  to  thee, 
The  ensigns  of  whose  love  bounty  displays. 
Yet  esteems  all  their  cost  short  of  ihy  praise. 
There  will  appear  elected  sons  of  war, 
Which  this  fair  city  boasts  of,  for  their  care, 
Strength,  and  experience,  set  in  truth  of  heart. 
All  great  and  glorious  masters  in  that  art 
Which  gives  to  man  hia  dignity,  name,  and  seal, 
Prepar'd  to  speak  love  in  a  noble  peal. 
Knowing  two  triumphs  must  on  this  day  dwell, 
For  magistrate  one,  and  one  for  coronei :" 
Return  lord-general,  that's  the  name  of  stale 
The  soldier  gives  thee,  peace  the  magistrate. 
On  then,  great  hope  1  here  that  good  care  begins, 
Which  now  earth's  love  and  heaven's  hereafter  wins. 

At  his  lordship's  return  from  Westminster,  those 
worthy  gentlemen  whose  lovca  and  worths  were 
prepared  before  in  the  conclusion  of  the  former 
speech  hy  water,  are  now  all  ready  to  salute  their 
lord-general  with  a  noble  volley  at  his  lordship's 
landing;  and  in  the  best  and  most  commendable 
form,  answerable  to  the  nobleness  of  their  free  love 
and  service,  take  their  march  before  his  lordship, 
who,  being  bo  honourably  conducted,  meets  the 
first  Triumph  by  land  wailing  his  lordship's  most 

■  cdFMie/]  Ftequenlly  used  fur  (nnd  llie  SpaniBh  of)  colonel. 


278  THE  TRICMPHS  OF 

wished  arrival  in  Paul's-Churchyari],  near  PaulV 
Chain,  which  is  a  Wilderness,  most  gracefully  and 
artfully  furnished  with  divers  kind  of  beasts  bear- 
ing fur,  proper  to  the  fralemily;  the  presenter  the 
musical  Orpheus,  great  master  both  in  poesy  and 
harmony,  who  by  hts  excellent  music  drew  af\er 
him  wild  beasts,  woods,  and  mountains ;  over  his 
head  an  artilicial  cock,  of\en  made  to  crow  and 
flutter  with  his  winga.  This  Orpheus,  at  the  ap- 
proach of  his  lordship,  gives  life  to  cheae  words: 

The  ipeech  Jciivered  by  Orpheus. 
Great  lord,  example  is  the  crystal  glais 
By  which  wise  magistracy  sets  his  face, 
Fits  all  his  actions  to  their  comeliest  dress, 
For  there  be  sees  honour  and  suemliness : 
'Tis  not  like  fluttering  glasses,  those  false  books 
Made  to  set  age  back  in  great  courtiers'  looks  ; 
Like  clocks  on  revelling  nights,  that  ne'er  go  right. 
Because  the  sports  may  yield  more  full  delight. 
But  when  they  break  off,  then  they  find  it  late. 
The  lime  and  truth  appear :"  such  is  their  state 
Whose  death  by  flatteries  is  set  back  awhile, 
But  meets  'em  in  the  midst  of  their  safe  smile; 
Such  horrors  those  forgetful  things  attend, 
That  only  mind  their  ends,  but  not  their  end- 
Leave  them  to  their  false  trust,  list  thou  to  roej 
Thy  power  is  great,  so  let  thy  virtues  be, 
Thy  care,  thy  watchfulness,  which  are  but  things 
Remember'd  to  thy  praise;  from  thence  it  springs. 
And  not  from  fear  of  any  want  in  thee. 
For  in  this  truth  I  may  be  comely  free, — 
Never  was  man  advanc'd  yet  waited  on 
With  a  more  noble  expectation  : 

'  o/ytor]  Old  eil.  "  Bppeam." 


I 


LOTE  AND  ANTIQUITY. 


279 


That's  a  great  work  to  perfect ;  and  as  tliose 
That  have  id  art  a  mastery  can  oppose 
All  comers,  and  come  off  with  learned  fame, 
Yet  think  not  scorn  still  of  a  scholar's  name, 
A  title  which  they  had  in  ignorant  youth, — 
So  he  that  deals  in  such  a  weight  of  truth 
As  th'  execution  of  a  magistrate's  place. 
Though  never  so  exact  in  form  and  grace. 
Both  from  his  own  worth  and  man's  free  applause, 
Yet  may  be  call'd  a  labourer  in  the  cause, 
And  be  thought  good  to  he  so,  in  true  care 
The  labour  being  ao  glorious,  just,  and  fair. 

Behold,  then,  in  a  rough  example  here. 
The  rude  and  thorny  ways  thy  care  must  clear; 
Such  are  the  vices  in  a  city  sprung, 
As  are  yon  thickets  that  grow  close  and  strong; 
Such  is  oppression,  cozenage,  bribes,  false  hires, 
As  are  yon  catching  and  entangling  briers; 
Such  is  gout-justice,  that's  delay  in  right. 
Demurs  in  suits  that  are  as  clear  as  light; 
Just  such  a  wilderness  is  a  commonwealth 
That  is  undresl,  unprun'd,  wild  in  her  health  ; 
And  the  rude  multitude  the  beasts  a'  the  wood, 
That  know  no  laws,  but  only  will  and  blood  ; 
And  yet,  by  fair  example,  musical  grace. 
Harmonious  government  of  the  man  in  place. 
Of  fair  integrity  and  wisdom  fram'd, 
They  stand  as  mine  do,  ravish 'd,  charm'd,  and  tam'd: 
Every  wise  magistrate  that  governs  thus. 
May  well  be  call'd  a  powerful  Orpheus. 

Behold  yon  bird  of  state,  the  vigilant  cock. 
The  mommg's  herald  and  the  ploughman's  clock. 
At  whose  shrill  crow  the  very  lion  trembles, 
The  sturdiest  prey-taker  that  liere  assembles  ; 
How  fitly  does  it  match  your  name  and  power, 
Fix'd  in  that  name  now  by  this  glorious  hour. 


3««.  nA  «■  «^  «74 


Aai  try  dw  nnmt  of  «  f  iifij  wd, 
KikM  prmil  bm,  ifata  tkc  f^v,  tW  nn 

^whcBItI 


e  &>r-iki«iBg  Scot, 
i.tfceFn   1     iiifcoMMJhou 
Tb«  cirflly  uMtoMltd  IrMbona. 
Aiid  thai  kind  ntsge  ibe  Vi^inian, 
Ail  iawia^j HMBUcd.  eat  b;  &tr, 
Tfait  tbj  day'a  hMMwr  ta  eoofntnUte. 

Ob,  then ;  mmi  mt  yomt  serrim  fiUa  thii  places 
So  ihroBgli  tke  dij  do  ha  lordship  grnce. 

At  wfaicb  words  ibu  |mui  of  Triunpfi  noves  on- 
ward, and  meeci  the  Cull  body  of  the  show  in  the 
odicr  Paul's  -  Chitrcbvatd ;  ibcn  dispersing  ilself 
according  to  the  ordcrin);  of  the  speeches  following, 
one  part,  n-hicb  is  ihe  Sanctuary  of  Fame,  plants 
itself  near  the  Liitle  Coniluii  in  Cheapo  another, 
which  hath  the  (iile  of  the  Purlianient  of  Honour, 
at  St.  I^urence-Lane  end.  Upon  (he  batilemetita 
^tltal  beauteous  sancluary,  adorned  niifa  six-and- 


twenty  bright -burning  lamps,  havinf?  allusion  to 
the  six-and- twenty  aldermen — they  being,  for  their 
Justice,  government,  and  example,  tlic  lights  of  the 
city  —  a  grave  personage,  crowned  with  the  title 
and  inscription  of  Example,  breathes  forth  these 

Example. 

From  that  rough  wilderness,  nhich  did  late  present 
The  perplex'd  slate  and  cares  of  government, 
Which  every  painful  magistrate  must  meet, 
Here  the  reward  stands  for  thee, — a  chief  scat 
In  Fame's  fair  Sanctuary,  where  some  of  old, 
Crown'd  with  their  troubles,  now  are  here  enroU'd 
In  memory's  sacred  sweetness  to  all  ages  j 
And  so  much  the  world's  voice  of  thee  presages. 
And  these  that  sit  for  many,  with  their  graces 

Fresh  as  the  buds  of  roses,  though  they  sleep. 
In  thy  Society  had  once  high  places, 

Which  in  their  good  works  they  for  ever  keep; 
Life  call'd  "em  in  their  time  honour's  fair  stars. 
Large  benefactors,  and  sweet  governors. 
If  here  were  not  sufficient  grace  for  merit. 
Next  object,  1  presume,  wdl  raise  thy  spirit. 

In  this  masterpiece  of  art.  Fame's  illustrious 
Sanctuary,  the  memory  of  those  worthies  shine[8] 
gloriously  that  have  been  both  lord  mayors  of  this 
city  and  noble  benefactors  and  brothers  of  this 
worthy  fraternity;  to  wit.  Sir  Henry  Barton,  Sir 
William  Gregory,  Sir  Stephen  Jennings,  Sir  Thomas 
Mirfen,  Sir  Andrew  Judd,  Sir  Wolslone  Dixie,  Sir 
Stephen  Slany,  Sir  Richard  Saltonstall,  and  now 
the  right  honourable  Sir  William  Cockaine. 

That  Sir  Henry  Barton,  an  honour  to  memory, 
was  the  first  that,  for  the  safely  of  travellers  and 


282 


Blrangen  Ly  nr'glit  through  the  city,  caused  lighl 
to  be  hung  out  from  AUhnllonlide^  to  CaiiillcniAa  ; 
therefore,  in  this  Sanciuary  of  Fame,  where  the 
beauty  of  good  actions  ihine[i],  he  is  most  property 
and  northily  recorded. 

His  lordship  by  this  time  gracefully  conducted 
toward  that  Parliament  of  Honour,  near  Si.  Lau- 
rence-Lane end.  Antiquity,  from  its  eminence,  thus 
gloriously  salutes  him : 

AsiiQuiTY,  m  the  ParliaineTil  0/  Honour, 
Grave  city- govern  or.  so  much  honour  do  me. 
Vouchsafe  thy  presence  and  thy  patience  to  me, 
And  I'll  reward  that  virtue  with  a  story. 
That  shall  to  thy  fraternity  add  glory  ; 
Then  10  thy  worth  no  mean  part  will  arise. 
That  art  ordain'd  chief  for  that  glorious  priie. 
'Tis  1  that  keep  all  the  records  of  fame, 
Mother  of  truths,  Antiquity  my  name ; 
No  year,  month,  day,  or  hour,  that  brings  in  place 
Good  works  and  noble,  for  the  city's  grace. 
But  1  record,  that  after-times  may  see 
What  former  were,  and  how  ihey  ought  to  be 
Fruitful  and  thankful,  in  fair  actions  flowing, 
To  meet  heaven's  blessings,  to  which  much  IB  owing. 
For  instance,  let  all  grateful  eyes  be  plac'd 
Upon  this  mount  of  royally,  by  kingd  grac'd. 
Queens,  prince,  dukes,  nobles,  more  by  numbering 

gain'd 
Than  can  be  in  this  narrow  sphere  conlain'd ; 
Seven  kings,  five  queens,  only  one  prince  alone, 
Eight  dukes,  two  earls,  Flanlagenets  twenty-one; 
All  these  of  this  fraternity  made  free, 
Brothers  and  sisters  of  this  Company : 

''  Jllholliinlide]  A  corrupcio[i  of  AU-holJovE-tidi!. 


I 


LOVE  AND  ANTIQUITY, 


And  se. 

For  what  society  tlic  wbole  city  brings 
Can  wilh  such  ornaments  adorn  their  kin 
Their  only  robes  of  stale,  when  they  c 
To  ride  most  glorious  to  high  parliament  I 
And  mark  in  this  their  royal  intent  still ; 
For  when  it  pleaa'd  the  goodness  of  their  will 
To  put  the  richest  robes  of  their  loves  on 
To  the  whole  city,  the  moat  ever  came 
To  this  Society,  which  records  here  prove. 
Adorning  their  adorners  with  their  love  ; 
Which  was  a  kingly  equity. 

Be  careful  then,  great  lord,  to  bring  forth  deeds 
To  match  that  honour  that  from  hence  proceeds. 

At  the  close  of  which  speech  the  whole  Triumph 
takes  leave  of  his  lordship  for  that  lime  ;  and,  till 
after  the  feaat  at  Guildhall,  rests  from  service. 
His  lordship,  accompanied  with  many  noble  per- 
sonages ;  the  honourable  fellowship  of  ancient  ma- 
gistrates and  aldermen  of  this  city;  the  two  new 
sheriffs,  the  one  of  his  own  fraternity  (the  com- 
plete Brotherhood  of  Skinners),  the  right  worshipful 
master  sheriff  Dean,  a  very  bountiful  and  worthy 
citizen :  not  forgetting  the  noble  pains  and  loves 
of  the  heroic  captains  of  the  city,  and  gentlemen  of 
the  Artillery -garden,"  making,  with  two  glorious 
ranks,  a  manly  and  majestic  passage  for  their  lord- 
general,  his  lordship,  thorough  Guildhall-yard  \  and 
aAerward  their  loves  to  his  lordship  resounding  in 
a  second  noble  volley. 


Now,  that  all  the  hoi 


s  before  mentioned  in  that 


'   JrliUerygardnl  See  □ 


iU  TBB  TRicHpas  or 

ParliaiDent,  or  Mount  of  Royally,  may  arrive  at  a 
clear  and  perfect  manifestation,  to  prevent'  the  over- 
curious  and  inquisitive  spirit,  the  names  and  times 
of  those  kings,  queens,  prince,  dukes,  and  nobles, 
free  of  the  honourable  Fraternity  of  Skinners  in 
I<ondon,  shall  here  receive  iheir  proper  illuBtra- 
tions. 

Anno  1.-129.  King  Ed«r«rd  the  Third,  Planta- 
genet,  by  whom,  in  the  first  of  his  reign,  this  worthy 
Society  of  Skinners  was  incorporate,  he  iheir  first 
royal  founder  and  brother;  queen  Philip  his  wife, 
younger  daughter  of  William  Earl  ofHenault,  the 
first  royal  sister ;  30  gloriously  virtuous  that  she  is 
a  rich  ornament  to  memory ;  she  both  founded  and 
endowed  Queen's  College  in  Oxford,  to  the  con- 
tinuing estate  of  which  I  myself  wish  all  happiness  ; 
this  queen  at  her  death  desired  ibFee  courtesies, 
some  of  which  are  rare  in  these  days ;  first,  that 
her  debts  might  be  paid  to  the  merchants ;  secondly, 
that  her  gifts  to  the  church  might  be  performed ; 
thirdly,  that  the  king,  when  he  died,  would  at  West- 
minster be  interred  with  her. 

Anno  1357-  Edward  Plantagenet,  surnamed  ihe 
Black  Prince,  son  to  Edward  the  Third,  Prince  of 
Wales.  Duke  of  Guienne,  Aquitaine,  and  Cornwall, 
Earl  Palatine  of  Chester.  In  the  battle  of  Poictiers 
in  France,  he,  with  8000  English  against  60,000 
French,  got  the  victory;  took  the  king,  Philip  his 
son,  seventeen  earls,  with  divers  other  noble  per- 
sonages, prisoners. 

King  Kichard  the  Second,  Plantagenet.  This 
king  being  the  third  royal  brother  of  this  honour- 
able Company,  and  at  that  time  the  Society  con- 

•  pmwnf]  i.  p.  BWieipBle. 


LOVE  AND  ANTIQUITY.  S85 

sisting  of  two  brotherhoods  of  Corpus  Christi,  the 
one  at  St.  Mary  Spittle,  the  other  at  St.  Mary  Beth- 
lem  without  Bishops^ate,  iu  the  eighteenth  of  his 
reign  granted  them  to  make  their  two  brother- 
hoods one,  by  the  name  of  the  FrBlernity  ofCorpus 
Christ!  of  Skinners,  which  worthy  title  shinea  at 
this  day  gloriously  atnongai  'era ;  and  toward  the 
end  of  this  king's  reign,  1396,  a  great  feast  was 
celebrated  in  Westminster  Hall,  where  the  lord 
mayor  of  this  city  sate  as  guest. 

Anno  13S1.  Queen  Anne,  his  wife,  daughter  to 
the  Emperor  Charles  the  Fourth,  and  sister  to 
[the]  Emperor  Wenceslaus,  whose  modesty  then 
may  make  this  age  blush  now,  she  being  the  first 
that  taught  women  to  ride  sideling  on  horseback; 
but  who  it  was  that  taught  'em  to  ride  straddling, 
there  is  no  records  so  immodest  that  can  shew 
me,  only  the  impudent  lime  and  the  open  profes- 
sion. This  fair  precedent  of  womanhood  died  at 
Sheen,  now  Richmond ;  for  grief  whereof  King 
Richard  her  lord  abandoned  and  defaced  that  goodly 
house. 

Anno  1399.  King  Henry  tlie  Fourth,  Plantagenet, 
surnamed  Bolingbroke,  a  fourth  royal  brother.  In 
his  time  the  famous  Guildhall  in  London  was  erected, 
where  the  honourable  courts  of  the  city  are  kepi, 
and  this  bounteous  feast  yearly  celebrnted.  In  the 
twelfth  year  of  his  reign  the  river  of  Thames  flowed 
thrice  in  one  day. 

Queen  Joan,  or  Jane,  Duchess  ofBrelagne,  late 
wife  to  John  Duke  of  Bretague,  and  daughter  to  the 
Kiug  of  Navarre,  another  princely  sister. 

Anno  1412.  King  Henry  the  Fifth,  Plantagenet, 
Prince  of  Wales,  proclaimed  Mayor  arid  Regent  of 
France:  he  won  that  famous  victory  on  the  French 
at  tlie  battle  of  Agincourt. 


286  THE  TRIUMPHS  OF 

Queen  Catherine,  his  wife,  daughter  to  Charles 
the  Sixth,  King  of  France, 

King  Henry  ihe  Sixth,  Planlagenet,  of  the  house 
of  Lancaster. 

King  Edward  the  Fourth,  Plantagenet,  of  the 
houae  of  York.  This  king  feaatcd  the  lord  mayor, 
Richard  Chawry,  and  the  aldenoen  his  brethren, 
with  certain  commoners,  in  Waliham  Forest :  after 
dinner  rode  a-hunting  with  the  king,  who  gare  him 
plenty  of  lenison,  and  sent  to  the  lady  mayoress 
and  her  sisters  the  aldermen's  wives,  two  harts,  six 
bucks,  and  a  tun  of  wine,  to  make  merry ;  and  this 
noble  feast  was  kept  at  Drapers'  Hall. 

Anno  14G3.  Queen  Eliiabeth  Grey,  his  wife, 
daughter  to  Richard  Woodville,  Earl  Rivers,  and 
to  the  Duchess  of  Bedford;  she  was  mother  to  the 
Lord  Grey  of  Ruthin,  that  in  his  time  was  Mar- 
quis  Dorset. 

King  Richard  the  Third,  brother  to  Edward  the 
Fourth,  Duke  of  Gloucester,  and  of  the  house  of 
York. 

Lionel  Plantagenet,  tiiird  son  to  the  third  Ed- 
ward, Duke  of  Clarence  and  Earl  of  Ulster:  Philip 
his  daughter  and  heir  married  Edward  Mortimer, 
Earl  of  March,  from  whom  the  house  of  York 
descends. 

Henry  Plantagenet,  grandchild  to  EdmondCrouch- 
back,  second  son  to  Henry  the  Third. 

Richard  Plantagenet,  father  of  Edward  the  Fourth, 
Duke  of  York  and  Albemarle,  Earl  of  Cambridge, 
Rutland,  March,  Clare,  and  Ulster. 

Thomas  Plantagenet,  second  son  of  Henry  the 
Fourth, 

John  Plantagenet,  third  son  of  Henry  the  Fourth; 
so  noble  a  soldier,  and  so  great  a  terror  to  the 
French,  that  when  Charles  the  Eighth  was  moved 


LOVE  AND  ANTiaUITY. 


to  deface  liis  monument — being  buried  in  Rouen — ■ 
the  king  thus  answerei!,^ — -"Pray,  let  him  rest  !n 
peace  being  dead,  of  nliom  we  were  all  afraid  when 
he  lived." 

Humfrey  Plantagenet,  fourth  son  of  Henry  the 
Fourth. 

John  Holland,  Dake  of  Exeler. 

George  Plantagenet,  brother  to  Edward  the 
Fourth. 

Edniond  Planlagenci,  brother  to  Edward  the 
Fourth. 

Richard  NeTille,  Earl  of  Salisbury  and  Warwick, 
called  the  Great  Earl  ofWarwick. 

John  Cornwall  Knight,  Baron  Fanhope. 

The  royal  mm. 

Seven  kings,  five  queens,  one  prince,  seven  dukes, 
e  earl ;  twenty-one  Plantagencts, 


Seven  kings,  five  queens 


e  prince,  eight  dukes, 


two  earls,  one  lord  ;  twenty-four  Skin 

The  feast  ended  at  Guildhall,  his  lordshij 
yearly  custom  invites  it,  goes,  accompanied 
the  Triumph  before  him,  towards  St.  Paul'i 
perform  the  noble  and  reverend  ceremonies  n 
divine  antiquity  religiously  ordained,  and  are 
less  than  faithfully  observed.  Holy  service 
ceremonies  accomplished,  his  lordship  return 
torchlight  to  his  own  house,  the  whole  Triii 
placed  in  comely  and  decent  order  before  him  ; 
Wilderness:  the  Sanciuary  of  Fame,  adorned 
lights;  the  Parliament  of  Honour;  and  the  Tr 
pbant   Chariot  of  Love,    with    his   graceful 

'  ore]  01d«d."ia." 


TttB  TRitniPH*  or 


.  the  chariot  drawn  with  two  luieras. " 
Near  to  the  entrance  or  his  lordBhip'i  gate.  Love, 
prepared  with  his  welcome,  thus  salutes  him  : 

LovB. 
1  was  the  first,  grave  lord,  that  welcom'd  thee 
To  ihis  day's  honour,  and  I  spake  it  free, 
Just  as  in  every  heart  I  found  it  plac'd, 
And  'tia  my  turn  again  now  to  speak  last ; 
For  love  is  circular,  like  the  bright  sun. 
And  takes  delight  to  end  where  it  begun. 
Though  indeed  never  ending  in  true  will. 
But  rather  may  be  said  beginning  still. 
As  all  great  works  are  of  celestial  birth, 
or  which  lore  is  the  chief  in  heaven  and  earth. 
To  what  blest  slate  then  are  thy  forlunes  come. 
Since  that  Imih  brought  thee  forth  and  brings  thee 

home? 
Now,  as  in  common  course,  which  clears  things  best, 
There's  no  free  gill  but  looks  for  thanks  at  least ; 
A  love  80  bountiful,  so  free,  so  good. 
From  the  whole  city,  from  ihy  brotherhood — 
That  name  I  ought  a  while  to  dwell  upon  — 
Expect  some  fair  requital  from  the  man 
They've  all  bo  largely  honour'd:  what's  desir'd? 
That  which  in  conscience  ought  to  be  reqnir'd  ; 
O,  thank  'em  in  thy  justice,  in  thy  care, 
Zeal  to  right  wrongs,  works  that  are  clear  and  fair. 
And  will  become  thy  soul,  whence  virtue  springs. 
As  those  rich  ornaments  thy  brother-kings. 

'  luiimj]  GenerlUy  said  lo  be  T(u«>ian  animsli  vnlueil  for 
tlieir  fur;  but,  I  apprehend,  Middleton  uied  (he  vord  in  the 
■enae  af  lynxrs.  "  A  Luzame.  Loup  eirvier,"  gayi  Colgrave, 
who  explBin*  ihe  French  lerm,  '■  s  kind  of  while  Wolfe,"  or 
>'  ihe  siiDtleii  Lioi,  or  Ounce,  or  a  kind  therot"    See,  I 


Minaheu  in 


>.  Luxarnt  and  Fiim. 


AND  ANTieUlTY. 


Aod  since  we  cannot  separate  love  aad  care  — 
For  where  care  is,  a  love  must  needs  be  tliere. 
And  care  where  love  is,  'tis  the  man  and  wife, 
Through  every  estate  that's  fix'd  in  life — 
You  are  by  this  the  city's  bridegroom  prov'd. 
And  ahe  stands  wedded  to  her  best  belov'd : 
Then  be,  according  to  your  morning  vows, 
A  careful  husband  to  o  loving  spouse  ; 
Am!  heaven  give  you  great  joy, — both  it  and  thee. 
And  to  all  those  that  shall  match  after  ye ! 

The  names  of  those  beasts  bearing  Jitr,  and  now  in  use 
Ktlk  the  bountiful  Societu  of  Skinners,  Ike  moit  of 
which  presented  in  the  fVtUtemess,  mkere  Orpheus 
jpredominales. 
Ermine,  foine,  sables,  martin,  badger,  bear, 
Luzern,  budge,  otter,  hipponesse,  and  hare, 
Lamb,  wolf,  fox,  leopard,  minx,  stot,  miniver. 
Racoon,  moashy,  wolverin,  caliber, 
Squirrel,  mole,  cat,  musk,  civet,  wild  and  tame, 
Cony,  white,  yellow,  black,  must  have  a  name. 
The  ounce,  rowsgray,  ginnet,  pampilion  ; 
Of  birds  the  vulture,  bitter,  estridge,'  swan  : 
Some  worn  for  ornament,  and  some  for  health. 
All  to  the  Skinners'  art  bring  fame  and  wealth. 

The  service  being  thus  faithfully  performed,  both 
to  his  lordship's  honour  and  to  the  credit  and  con- 
tent of  his  most  generously  bountiful  Society,  the 
season  commends  all  to  silence;  yet  not  without  a 
little  leave  taken  to  reward  art  with  the  comely 
dues  that  belong  unto  it,  which  hath  been  so  richly 
expressed  in  the  body  of  the  Triumph  with  all  the 


triige]  J. 


290     THE  TRiuMpns  or  love  afd  antiquiiv. 

proper  beauties  of  workmanship,  that  the  city  may, 
without  injury  to  juilgtnent,  call  it  the  niasterpiect 
ofher  triumphs  ;  the  credit  of  which  workmanship 
I  must  justly  lay  upon  the  deserts  of  master  Garret 
Crismas'  and  master  Koberi  Norman,  joined-pait- 
ncrs  in  the  performance. 

'  Crumai]  Or  Chriilmai.—"  Al  Ibe  end  uf  lhi«  [pageant,— 
Heywood'i  leudM  Arlinm  »t  SHtiHiamm  Scalarigi,,  &c  1632] 
ii  a  fiuiegjric  on  HaUlcr  Cierard  Chriilmas,  for  brineing  Uie 
ptgeaiM  and  figures  to  such  grcst  perfection  both  in  ajin- 
inctry  snd  subitance,  being  twlbre  bul  unthapen  moniwrG, 
made  onlyoriligbl  wicker  and  paper.  This  man  deiignEil 
Aldeiigste,  and  csrved  the  equetlrion  italue  oC  Jaoie*  I 
there,  and  the  old  piece  of  Northumberland  home."  Bing. 
Drain.,  vol.  lii.  p.  IIH. 


THE  SUN  IN  ARIES. 


Fralrmilg  i^ Draptrt.  At  W 


r(  Wirrlhy  Brother  Ihe  Riglit  Hani 


Aaii,  ra  tht  high  qffict  o/hit  Main 


rablt,  Edteard  Burk- 


:t  LieHltnaxI,  Ihe  lord  Maie 


1^  Iht /omau  Cilie  ef  London.     Taking  btgifim*g  si 


It  Oalh  of  Umarally  al  O'lilna 


rttHmeJnm  rtctnang 


[and]  Jedrt  dag.  ttiiig  Iht  29.  o/Octabtr.  IG21.   By  Tho.  Uid- 
dlilan.  Gnt.     At  limdoi, .-  Primed  bg  Ed.  All-de,  for  H.  O. 


Reprioled  in  NiehoU'i  Progri: 


To  lift  hotumr  o/*  Aim  la  wham  the  noble  Frattrmttf  «^ 
Dnipers,  hie  umrthg  hrothern,  harr  dedirated  thrir 
lovei  in  eottig  Triump/u.  Ihf  Eighl  Uonimrabk 
Edwakd  Barkbam.  Lard  Mayor  of  Ihh  renatentd 
Gig. 

YoDR  Honour  being  the  centre  where  the  lines 
Of  this  day's  gtoriouB  circle  meets  and  joins. 
Love,  joy,  cost,  triumph,  all  by  you  made  blest. 
There  does  my  service  too  desire  to  rear. 

At  your  Lordship's  commaiul. 

Tho.  Midolbtok. 


THE  SUN  IN  ARIES. 


Pisces  being  the  last  of  the  signs  and  the  wane  of 
the  Sun's  glory,  hon  fitly  and  desi'redly  now  the 
SuD  enters  into  Aries,  for  the  comfort  and  refreshing 
of  the  creatures,  and  may  be  properly  called  the 
spring-time  of  right  and  justice,  observed  by  the 
shepherd's  calendar  in  the  mountain,  lo  prove  a 
happy  year  for  poor  men's  causes,  widows'  and 
orphans'  comforts ;  so  much  to  make  good  the 
Sun's  entrance  into  that  noble  sign ;  I  doubt  not 
but  the  beams  of  bis  justice  will  make  good  them- 
selves. 

And  first  to  begin  with  the  worthy  love  of  his 
honourable  Society  to  his  lordship,  aflcr  his  honour's 
return  from  Westminster,  having  received  some  ser- 
vice upon  the  water.  The  first  Triumph  by  land 
attends  his  lordship's  most  wished  arrival  in  Paul's- 
Churchyard,  which  is  a  chariot  most  artfully  framed 
and  adorned,  bearing  the  title  of  the  Chariot  of 
Honour;  in  which  chariot  many  worthies  are  placed 
that  have  got  trophies  of  honour  by  their  labours 
and  deserts ;  such  as  Jason,  whose  illuslralion  of 
honour  is  the  golden  fleece;  Hercules  with  bis  ne 
plus  ultra  upon  pilasters  of  silver;  a  fair  globe  for 
conquering  Alexander ;  a  gilt  laurel  for  triumphant 
CKsar,  &c.  Jason,  at  the  approach  of  his  lordship, 
being  the  personage  most  proper,  by  his  mani- 
festation, for  the  Society's  honour,  lends  a  voice  to 
these  following  words : 


Be  &Tourablr,  Fues,  and  a  &tr  cky 
Smife  on  this  expediuoa !  Phtebu'  rjK, 
Look  cbeerfiiUy !  the  bark  b  vaitt  nQ 
For  a  jear'i  loyage,  and  a  bInaM  gaJc 
Be  ever  oith  it  ■  'lu  for  justice  botmd. 
A  coaal  that's  not  by  every  compaM  Tound, 
E'Ai>d  ^oei  for  honour,  life's  rtKMt  pcecioos  tradm|[ : 
K'liaj  U  retara  vith  most  lUustriout  lading* 
P>A  thing  both  wtxh'd  and  bt^'d  for.     I  am  be, 
pTo  all  adrentuRNu  roya^es  a  fiee 

d  bountiful  weD-wnber,  by  my  name 
*   '  *  ttoa,  firat  adTdttnrer  for  (ame. 


ElW  meiBory  of  aQ  pen! 


dby  Ibe 


aU  pel 
noUe 


daiuer,  ] 

lot  her  CI 


■  hopes  of  Greece, 


e  of  the  firat  bcotbeia  on  rceord 


it  lord. 


_  _     .  M>iir  got  bj  danger.     So,  great  k .  _ 
[  Yberc  it  ao  voyage  aet  fottb  to  renowu, 

Xhal  does  not  aonwtwaea  neei  <aiib  skJes  that  frown. 

With  gust*  of  enTj,  billows  of  despite. 

Which  makes  the  porchase,  oikce  aduev'd,   toor* 
bt^bl. 

Slate  is  a  aea ;  be  must  be  wise  indeed 
_  Thai  sonnda  its  depth,  or  can  the  qaicksaods  bc«d : 
I  And  honour  b  so  nice  and  rare  a  prise. 
F  In  waich'd  by  dragons,  tcooiimku  enemies ; 
f  Then  no  small  care  belongs  lo't :  but  aa  I, 
^   'Wiifa  my  asaistmg  Argonaola,  did  try 
.   The  utiKMt  of  adrentiire.  and  with  b  * ' 

Andc.  -     -     - 

Whose  aittsuation  Jecka  tay  Bcoaory 

Tbrottgh  all  postrritiea,  d 


>t  couiage  bioi^bt  tke  leece  of  gold. 
Liation  oecka  tay  Bcaaory 


*««fcU 


I 


I 


So,  man  of  merit,  never  faint  or  fear; 

Thou  hast  ih'  asaiatance  of  grave  senatora  here. 

Thy  worthy  brethren,  some  of  which  have  past 

AH  dangeroua  gulfs,  and  in  their  bright  fames  plac'd. 

They  can  instruct  and  guide  thee,  and  each  one 

That  must  adventure,  and  are  coming  on 

To  this  great  expedition  ;  they  will  be 

Cheerful  and  forward  to  encourage  thee ; 

And  blessings  fall  in  a  most  infinite  aum 

Soth  on  those  past,  thyself,  and  those  to  come  ! 

Passing  from  this,  and  more  to  encourage  the 
labour  of  the  magistrate,  he  is  now  conducted  to 
the  maater  Triumph,  called  the  Tower  of  Virtue, 
which  for  the  strength,  safety,  and  perpetuity,  bears 
the  name  of  the  Brazen  Tower;  of  which  Integrity 
keeps  [he  keys,  virtue  being  indeed  as  a  brazen 
wall  to  a  city  or  commonwealth ;  and  to  illustrate 
the  prosperity  it  brings  Co  a  kingdom,  the  Cop  tur- 
rets or  pinnacles  of  this  Brazen  Tower  shine  bright 
like  gold;  and  upon  the  gilded  battlements  thereof 
stand  six  knights,  three  in  silvered  and  three  in  gilt 
armour,  as  Virtue's  standard-bearers  or  champions, 
holding  six  little  streamers  or  silver  bannerets,  in 
each  of  which  are  displayed  the  arms  of  a  noble 
brother  and  benefactor,  Fame  sounding  forth  their 
praises  to  the  world,  for  the  encouragement  of  after- 
ages,  and  Antiquity,  the  register  of  Fame,  contain- 
ing in  her  golden  legend  their  names  and  titles; 
as  that  of  Sir  Henry  Fiti-Alwin,  draper,  lord  mayor 
four-and- twenty  years  together ;  Sir  John  Norman, 
the  first  that  was  rowed  in  barge  to  Westminster 
with  silver  oars,  at  his  own  cost  and  charges ;  Sir 
Francis  Drake,  the  son  of  Fame,  who  in  two  years 
and  ten  months  did  cast  a  girdle  ahout  the  world ; 
the  unparalleled  Sir  Simon  Eyre,  whu  built  Leaden- 


hkU  St  bis  own  coat,  a  sUk-Ikmm  far  dw  | 
bocii  in  the  apper  lofti  and 
and  ■tenwrable  Sir  Richard  C 
MilberB^  Wo  boHHiiAil  bene&ctan;  Sir  Bidnrd 
Hardril,  n  the  seat  of  magiitncy  aix  yvan  to* 
mtber ;  Sir  Joha  PooIumj,  fotir  jetn,  wbiA  Sir 
Jolio  Ibunded  a  eoll^e  in  the  puiah  of  St.  Lftw- 
renee  Pooltaey,  bj  Caad]Mnek  Street ;  John  Hiode, 
a  re-ediSer  of  the  pariih  chordt  oTSl.  Switfaio  bj 
Loodon  Stone ;  Sir  Richard  Pine,  who  being  free 
of  the  Leather-Mllera,  was  ako  boin  ibem  mulsied 
t  and  howMrafaleSodMyafDtapcfs; 

)  the  hoaoor  and  •erriee  of  ihe 
From  the  tower,  Fane,  m  pBraoaagB 
properlj  adorned,  thai  talutea  the  greot  MMWrr  of 
the  daj  and  triamph : 

Tie  MiHtolien  o^Fami.  -M 

WdcoiDe  to  Vtrtue't  (brtren,  itroag  and  eleor !     ^ 
Tbou  art  not  only  aafe  bat  gkniotu  here ;  ' 

It  ia  a  lower  of  bnghtaesa :  such  U  Truth, 
Whose  ■trengtb  and  grace  fed*  a  perpetual  jonth  ; 
The  wall*  are  brau,  the  pTranids  (toe  g(^ 
Which  shewi  'tis  Safety'*  and  Prosperity'*  hold ; 
Clear  Cooscience  ia  lieutetxant ;  Providence  there, 
Watchfulness,  Wisdam,  Constaacj,  Zeal,  Care, 
Are  the  six  warders  keep  the  watch-tower  sure. 
That  nothing  enters  bat  what'*  just  and  pare  ; 
For  nhich  effect,  batli  to  aSrighl  and  shame 
All  slothful  bloods  that  blush  to  look  oo  Fante, 
An  ensign  of  good  actions  each  displays,  _ 

That  worthy  works  may  justly  own  their  |i 

-foti]  Oid  ed.  -  tttixr 


And  which  is  clearliest  to  be  understood. 

Thine  shines  ainidst  thy  glorious  brotherhood, 

Circled  with  arms  of  honour  by  those  past, 

Ab  now  with  love's  arras  by  the  present  grac'd  ; 

And  how  ihy  word*'  does  thy  true  worth  display, 

Fortuiue  mater  Diligenlia, 

Fair  Fortune's  mother,  all  may  rend  and  see, 

Is  Diligence,  endeavouring  industry. 

See  here  the  glory  oi*  illustrious  acts, 

AH  of  thy  own  fraternity,  whose  tracts 

'Tie  comely  to  pursue,  all  thy  life's  race, 

Takmg  their  virtues  as  thou  hold'sc  their  place ; 

Some,  col  lege- founders,  lemple-beHutiliers, 

Whose  blest  souls  sing  now  in  celestial  cjuires ; 

Erecters  some  of  granaries  for  the  poor. 

Though  now  converted  to  some  rich  men's  store, — 

The  more  the  age's  misery  !  some  so  rare 

For  this  fam'd  city's  government  and  care, 

They  kept  the  seat  four  years,  with  a  fair  name  ; 

Some,  six ;  but  one,  the  miracle  of  fame. 

Which  no  society  or  lime  can  match, 

Twenty-four  years  complete  ;  he  was  Truth's  watch, 

He  went  so  right  and  even,  and  the  hand 

Of  that  fair  motion  bribe  could  ne'er  make  stand ; 

And  as  men  set  their  watches  by  the  sun. 

Set  justice  but  by  that  which  he  has  done, 

And  keep  it  even ;  so,  from  men  to  men. 

No  magistrate  need  stir  the  work  agen :' 

It  lights  into  a  noble  hand  to-day. 

And  has  past  many — many  more  it  may. 

By  this  Tower  of  Virtue — his  lordship  being 
gracefully  conducted  toward  the  new  Standard — 
one  in  a  cloudy,  ruinous  habit,  leaning  upon  the 


ri]    ti  ». 


^i    il  I'r  I  ,  ^ 


r 


T«  W  i> —ik  i>  a>' aM  a<  B^ 


£*<■  ■*  >^  iBliMii  Ifcaa'dat  s  pcM 

nat  nn  kri  bd,  >kn  k  fax  nod  bMii 

llw«irlW»€«ail    llll  W  ■■■iiniii.  Mdp 
»oL  IT.  p.  rtl. 


I 


I 


Presented  by  the  city  :  lose  not  then 

A  praise  so  dear,  beatow'd  not  on  all 

Strive  to  preserve  this  famous  city's  peace, 

Begun  by  yon  first  king,  which  does  ' 

Now  by  the  last ;  from  Henry  that  ji 

To  James  that  unites  kingdoma,  who  encloses 

All  in  the  arms  of  love,  malic'd  of  none  ; 

Our  hearts  find  thai,  when  neighbouring  kingdoms 

Which  in  the  magistrate's  diity  may  well  move 
A  zealous  care,  in  all  a  thankful  love. 

After  this,  for  the  full  close  of  the  forenoon's 
Triumph,  near  St.  Laurence-Lane  stands  a  moun- 
tain, artfully  raised  and  replenished  with  fine  woolly 
creatures  ;  Phtcbus  on  the  top,  shining  in  a  full 
glory,  being  circled  with  the  Twelve  Celestial 
Signs.  Aries,  placed  near  the  principal  rays,  the 
proper  sign  for  illustration,  thus  greets  his  lord- 
ship: 

Bright  ihoughtB,  joy,  and  alacrity  of  heart 

Bless  thy  great  undertakings!  'tis  the  part 

And  property  of  Phoebus  with  his  rays 

To  cheer  and  to  illumine  good  men's  ways  ; 

Eagle-ey'd  actions,  that  dare  behold 

His  sparkling  globe  depart  tried  nil  like  gold; 

'Tis  bribery  and  injustice,  deeds  of  night, 

That  fly  the  sunbeam,  which  makes  good  works 

Thine  look  iipon't  undaz^led  i  as  one  beam 
Faces  another,  as  we  match  a  gem 
With  her  refulgent  fellow,  from  thy  worth 
Example  sparkles  as  a  star  shoots  forth. 
This  Mount,  the  type  of  eminence  and  place, 
Resembles  magistracy's  seat  and  grace  ; 


302 


THE  sun  IN  ARIES. 


Tlie  Sun  the  magistrate  himself  implies ; 

These  woolly  creatures,  all  that  part  which  lies 

Utider  his  charge  and  office ;  not  unfit, 

Since  kings  and  rulers  are,  in  holy  writ, 

With   shepherds   parallel'd,    nay,    from   shepherds 

rear'd. 
And  people  and  the  flock  as  oft  coher'd. 
Now,  as  it  is  the  bounty  of  the  sun 
To  spread  his  splendours  and  make  gladness  run 
Over  the  drooping  creatures,  it  ought  ho 
To  be  his  proper  virtue,  that  does  owe 
To  justice  his  life's  flame,  shot  from  above, 
To  cheer  oppressed  right  with  looks  of  love; 
Which   nothing  doubted,  Truth's  reward  light  on 

you. 
The  beams  of  all  clear  comforts  shine  upon  youl 

The  great  feast  ended,  the  whole  state  of  the 
Triumph  attends  upon  his  lordship,  both  to  Paul's 
and  homeward;  and  near  the  entrance  of  his  lord- 
ship's house,  two  parts  of  the  Triumph  stand  ready 
planted,  viz.  the  Brazen  Tower  and  the  triple- 
crowned  Fountain  of  Justice,  this  fountain  being 
adorned  with  the  lively  flgurcs  of  all  those  graces 
and  virtues  which  belong  to  the  faithful  discharging 
nf  BO  high  an  office;  as  Justice,  Sincerity,  Meek- 
ness, Wisdom,  Providence,  Equality,  Industry, 
Truth,  Peace,  Patience,  Hope,  Harmony,  all  illus- 
trated by  proper  emblems  and  expressions  ;  as. 
Justice  by  a  sword ;  Sincerity  by  a  lamb  ;  Meekness 
by  a  dove;  Wisdom  by  a  serpent;  Providence  by 
an  eagle  ;  Equality  by  a  silvered  balance ;  Industry 
by  a  golden  ball,  on  which  stands  a  Cupid,  inti- 
mating that  industry  brings  both  wealth  and  love  ; 
Truth  with  a  fan  of  stars,  with  which  she  chases 
away  Error;  Peace  with  a  branch  of  laurel;  Putience 


THE  BUM  IH  ARIES. 


303 


a  aprig  of  palm  ;  Hope  by  a  silvered  anchor ;  Har- 
mony by  a  swan  ;  each  at  night  holding  a  bright- 
burning  taper  in  her  hand,  as  a  manifestation  of 
purity.  His  lordship  being  in  sight,  and  drawing 
near  to  his  entrance,  Fame,  from  the  Brazen  Tower, 
closes  up  the  Triumph — his  lordship's  honourable 
welcome,  with  the  noble  demonstration  of  his 
worthy  fraternity's  aSection  —  in  this  concluding 

Fame. 
I  cannot  better  the  comparison 
Of  thy  fair  brotherhood's  love  than  to  the  sun 
After  a  great  eclipse;  for  as  the  sphere 
Of  that  celestial  motion  shines  more  clear 
After  the  interposing  part  is  spent. 
Than  to  the  eye  before  the  darkness  went 
Over  the  bright  orb ;  so  their  love  is  shewn 
With  a  content  past  expectation, 
A  care  that  has  been  comely,  and  a  cost 
That  has  been  decent,  cheerful,  which  ia  most. 
Fit  for  the  service  of  bo  great  a  state. 
So  fam'd  a  city,  and  a  magistrate 
So  worthy  of  it ;  all  has  been  bestow'd 
Upon  thy  triumph,  which  has  clearly  shew'd 
The  loves  of  ihy  fraternity  as  great 
For  iliy  first  welcome  to  thy  honoured  seat ; 
And  happily  is  cost  requited  then. 
When  men  grace  triumphs  more  than  triumphs  men : 
Diamonds  will  shine  though  set  in  lead  ;  true  worth 
Stands  always  in  least  need  of  setting  forth. 
What  makes  less  noise  than  merit  ?  or  less  show 
Than  virtue?  'tis  the  undescrvers  owe 
All  to  vain-glory  and  to  rumour  still, 
Building  their  praises  on  the  vulgar  will ; 


I 


304 


THB  SUN  IM  ARIES. 


All  tlieir  good  is  without  'em,  not  their  own ; 
When  wise  men  to  their  virtues  are  best  known. 
Behold  yon  Fountain  with  rhe  tripled  crown. 
And  through  a  cloud  the  siinbeani  piercing  down ; 
So  is  the  worthy  magistrate  made  up ; 
The  triple  crown  is  Charity,  Faiih,  and  Hope, 
Those  three  celeatiol  sisters;  the  cloud  too, 
That's  Care,  and  yet  you  see    the  beam  strikes 

through ; 
A  care  discharg'd  with  honour  it  presages, 
And  may  it  so  continue  lo  all  ages  I 
It  is  thy  brotherhood's  arms  ;  how  well  it  fits 
Both  thee  and  all  that  for  Truth's  honour  sits  I 
The  time  of  rest  draws  near;  triumph  must  ceaie; 
Joy  to  ihy  heart — to  all  a  blessed  peace ! 

For  the  frame-work  of  the  whole  Triumph,  with 
all  the  proper  beauties  of  workmanship,  the  credit 
of  that  justly  appertains  to  the  deserts  of  master 
Garret  Crismaa,'  a  man  excellent  in  hJa  art,  and 
faithful  in  hia  performances. 

■  Crimai]  See  note,  p.  290. 


1 


THE  TRIUMPHS  OF  INTEGRITY. 


i} 


\ 


The  Trivmplii  of  Inlegrily.  A  \oble  SoletimUi),  performtd 
through  the  Cilif,  al  Ihi  loU  Coil  and  Chargtt  nf  the  Nonorabli 
Fralentity  of  Draper;  at  the  Canfirmalion  md  EitaUUhment  nf 
their  mat  umrlhif  Brother,  the  Right  Honorable,  Martin  Ltmdey, 
M  tht  high  Office  of  hie  Uaicitiet  Lieutenant,  Lord  Major  and 
Chamnllor  of  the  fammii  Cily  -if  Lmdan.  Taking  btgiming  al 
his  Lardthipi  gang,  and  pitficling  it  lelfe  nftir  Hii  Rttamt 
from  reriiuing  Ihf  Oath  of  Matoralttj  at  Weitmniiir.on  Iht  MoT' 
row  after  Simon  and  Judei  Day,  being  the  29,  ef  October.  I82S. 
By  The.  Uiddletan  Gent.  London,  Prinlid  fry  Sichidae  Okie, 
diMlling  in  Faiter-Lane.  1623.  4lo. 


To  the  honour  of  hhn  to  whom  the  noble  Fratimity  of 
Draper$,  hU  worthy  brothers,  have  eoraecrattd  their 
lovei  in  eotlly  THumphM,  the  Right  Honourable 
Mabtik  LtiMLBT,  Lord  Mayor  of  thit  renowned 
City. 

THt  descent  worthy,  fortune's  early  grace. 
Sprung  of  an  ancient  and  most  generous  race, 
Match'd  with  a  virtuous  lady,  justly  may 
Challenge  the  honour  of  bo  great  a  day. 

Fftithftllly  de\'oted  to  the  worthiness  of  you  both, 

Tho.  Middleton. 


their  I 

■oMe  I 


TRIUMPHS  OP  INTEGRITY} 


A  NOBLE  SOLEMNITY  THROUGH  THE  CITY. 


I 


Of  all  solemnities  by  which  the  bappy  inauguration 
of  a  subject  ia  celebrated,  I  find  none  that  iran- 
Hcends  the  state  and  magnificence  of  that  pomp 
prepared  to  receive  his  Majesty's  great  substitute 
into  his  honourable  charge,  the  city  of  London, 
dignified  by  the  title  of  the  King's  Chamber  Royal ; 
which,  that  it  may  now  appear  no  kss  heightened 
with  brotherly  atfection,  coat,  art,  or  invention, 
than  some  other  preceding  triunipha  — by  which 
of  late  times  the  city's  honour  hath  been  more 
faithfully  illustrated  —  this  takes  its  fit  occasion  to 
present  itself. 

And  first  to  specify  the  love  of  his  noble  frater- 
nity, after  his  lordship's  return  from  Westminster, 
having  received  some  service  upon  the  water  by  a 
proper  and  significant  masterpiece  of  triumph  called 
the  Imperial  Canopy,  being  the  ancient  arms  of  the 
Company,  an  invention  neither  old  nor  enforced, 
the  same  glorious  and  apt  property,*  accompanied 


prapfr/i/l  i. 


tele  [or  tbc  (lageant  —  a  ilie: 


310 


TB8  TEIUHPHS  OF  IIJIEORITY. 


with  four  other  triumphal  pegmes,''  are,  in  their 
convenient  stages,  planted  to  honour  his  lordship'a 
progress  through  the  city:  the  first  for  the  land, 
attending  his  most  wished  arrival  in  Paul's-Church- 
yard,  nhich  bears  the  inscription  of  a  Mount  Royal, 
on  nhich  mount  are  placed  certain  kings  and  great 
commanders,  which  ancient  history  produces,  that 
were  originally  sprung  from  shepherds  and  humble 
beginnings:  only  the  number  of  six  presented; 
some  with  crowns,  some  with  gilt  laurels,  holding 
in  their  hands  silver  sheep-hooks;  viz.  Viriat,  a 
prime  commander  of  the  Portugals  —  renowned 
amongst  the  historians,  especially  the  Romans  — 
who,  in  battles  of  fourteen  years'  continuance,  pur- 
chased many  great  and  honourable  victories  ;  Ar- 
■aces,  king  of  the  Parthians,  who  ordained  the  first 
kingdom  that  ever  was  amongst  them,  and  in  the 
reverence  of  this  king's  name  and  memory  all  others 
hia  successors  were  called  Arsacides  af\er  his  name, 
as  the  Roman  emperors  took  the  name  of  Caesar 
for  the  love  of  great  Caisar  Augustus ;  also  Marcus 
JuliusLucinus;  Bohemia's  Prim  islaus ;  the  emperor 
Pertinax;  the  great  victor  Tamburlain,  conqueror 
of  Syria,  Armenia,  Babylon,  Mesopotamia,  Scythia, 
Albania,  &c.  Many  honourable  worthies  more  I 
could  produce,  by  their  deserts  ennobling  their 
mean  originals ;  but  for  the  better  expression  of 
the  purpose  in  hand,  a  speaker  lends  a  voice  to 
these  following  words  : 

The  speech  in  the  Mount  Royal. 

They  that  with  glory-in  flam'd  hearts  desire  

To  see  great  worth  deservingly  aspire, 
Let  'em  draw  near  and  fix  a  serious  eye 
On  this  triumphant  Mount  of  Royalty ; 

■  Facciolmi,  Lex.  h 


THE  TRIUMPHS  OF  INTEGRITY.  311 

Here  tbey  sliall  find  fair  Virtue,  and  her  name. 
From  low,  obscure  beginnings,  rais'd  lo  fame, 
Like  light  struck  out  of  darkness :  the  mean  nombs 
No  more  eclipse  brave  merit  than  rich  tombs 
Make  the  soui  happy  ;  'tis  the  life  and  dying 
Crowns  both  with  honour's  sacred  satisfying  ; 
And  'tis  the  noblest  splendour  upon  earth 


o  adit  a  glory  to  his  birth. 


I 


All  his  life's  race  with  honoui 

Than  to  be  nobly  born,  and  there  stand  fix'd, 

As  if  'twere  competent  virtue  for  whole  life 

To  be  begot  a  lord:  'tis  virtuous  strife 

That  makes  the  complete  Christian,  not  high  place. 

As  true  submission  is  the  state  of  grace  : 

The  path  to  bliss  lies  in  the  humblest  field ; 

Who  ever  rise''  to  heaven  that  never  kneei'd? 

Although  the  roof  hath  supernatural  height, 

Yet  there's  no  flesh  can  thither  go  upright. 

All  this  is  instanc'd  only  to  commend 

The  low  condition  whence  these  kings  descend. 

I  spare  the  prince  of  prophets"  in  this  file. 

And  preserve  him  for  a  far  holier  style. 

Who,  being  king  anointed,  did  not  scorn 

To  be  a  shepherd  after :  these  were  born 

Shepherds,  and  rise  to  kings  ;  took  their  ascending 

From  the  strong  hand  of  Virtue,  never  ending 

Where  slie  begins  to  raise,  until  she  place 

Her  love-sick  servants  etjual  with  her  grace  : 

And  by  this  day's  great  honour  it  appears 

Sh'as  much  prevail'd  amongst  the  reverend  years 

Of  these  grave  senators  ;  chief  of  the  rest, 

Her  favour  hath  reflected  most  and  best 

Upon  that  son  whom  we  of  honour  call ; 

And  may't  successively  reflect  on  all ! 


■  pHitet  o/prapheli]  "  Daviii,"   Marg.  note  hi  old  ed. 


THE  TEIUMPHJ  OF  INTEOBtTT. 


S12 

From  this  Maunt  Royal,  beautified  with  the  glory 
of  (leservi|ig  aspirers,  descend  ne  to  the  modern 
uie  of  tliia  ancient  and  honourable  mystery,  and 
ibere  ne  aliall  6nd  the  wliole  livery  of  this  most 
renowned  and  famous  city,  as  upon  this  day,  at  all 
solemn  meetings  furnished  by  it:  it  clothes  the 
honourable  senators  in  their  highest  and  richest 
trearings,  all  courts  of  justice,  magistrates,  and 
judges  of  the  land. 

By  this  lime  his  lordship  and  the  worthy  Com- 
pany bein^  gracefully  conducted  toward  the  Little 
Conduit  in  Cheap,  there  another  part  of  the  Triumph 
wails  his  honour's  happy  approBch,  being  a  chariot 
artfully  framed  and  properly  garnished  ;  and  on  the 
conspicuous  part  thereof  is  placed  the  register  of 
all  heroic  acts  and  worthy  men,  bearing  the  title  of 
Sacred  Memory,  who,  for  the  greater  fame  of  thia 
honourable  fraternity,  presents  the  never-dying 
names  of  many  memorable  and  remarkable  wor- 
thies of  this  ancient  Society,  such  as  were  the  fantoua 
for  state  and  government:  Sir  Henry  Fiis-Alwin, 
Knight,  who  held  the  seat  of  magistracy  in  this  city 
twenty-four  years  together ;  he  siis  figured  under 
the  person  of  Government:  Sir  John  Norman,  the 
first  lord  mayor  rowed  in  barge  to  Westminster 
with  silver  oars  at  his  own  cost  and  charges,  under 
the  person  of  Honour  :  the  valiant  Sir  Francis 
Drake,  that  rich  ornament  to  memory,  who  in  two 
years  and  ten  months'  space  did  cast  a  girdle  about 
the  world,  under  the  person  of  Victory  :  Sir  Simon 
Eyre,  who  at  his  own  cost  built  Leadenhall,  a  gra- 
nary for  ibe  poor,  under  the  figure  of  Charity: 
Sir  Richard  Champion  and  Sir  John  Milborne,  under 
the  person  of  Munificence  or  Bounty  :  Sir  Richard 
Hardelt  and  Sir  John  Poultney,  the  one  in  the  seat 
of  magistracy  six  yearfi,  the  other  four  years  to- 


t?. 


TRE  TRIUMPHS  OF  INTECHITT.  313 

getlier,  under  the  figures  of  Justice  and  Piety,  that 
Sir  John  being  a  college- founder  in  the  parish  of 
St.  Laurence  Poultney,  by  Candlenick  Street;  et 
sit  de  cfterii :  this  Chariot  drawn  by  two  pelleted 
lions,  being  the  proper  supporters  of  the  Company's 
arras;  those  two  upon  the  lions  presenting  Power 
and  Honour,  the  one  in  a  little  streamer  or  banneret 
bearing  the  Lord  Mayor's  arms,  the  other  the  Com- 
pany's. 

The  tpeech  in  the  Chariot. 
I  am  all  Memory,  and  meihinks  I  see 
Into  the  farthest  time,  act,  quality, 
As  clear  as  if  'twere  now  begun  agen,'' 
The  natures,  dispositions,  and  the  men: 
I  find  to  goodness  they  all  bent  their  powers. 
Which  very  name  makes  blushing  times  of  ours  ; 
They  heap'd  up  virtues  long  before  they  were  old, 
This  age  sits  laughing  upon  heaps  of  gold; 
We  by  great  buildings  strive  to  raise  our  names, 
But  they  more  truly  wise  built  up  their  fames. 
Erected  fair  examples,  large  and  high. 
Patterns  for  us  to  build  our  honours  by  ; 
For  instance  only.  Memory  relates 
The  noblest  of  all  city -magistrates. 
Famous  Fiti-Alwin  ;  naming  him  alone, 
I  sum  up  twenty-four  lord  mayors  in  one, 
For  he,  by  free  election  and  consent, 
Fill'd  all  those  years  with  virtuous  government: 
Custom  and  time  Tefjuiring  now  but  one, 
How  ought  that  year  to  be  well  dwelt  upon ! 
It  should  appear  an  abstract  of  that  worth 
Which  former  times  in  many  years  brought  forth : 
Through  all  the  life  of  man  this  is  the  year 
Which  many  wish  and  never  can  come  near ; 

'  i«r»]  See  note,  \>.  182. 


Think,  and  give  thanks ;  to  whom  thii  year  does 

The  greatest  subject's  made  in  Christendom  : 
This  is  the  year  for  whom  some  long  prepar'd. 
And  others  have  their  glorious  fortune  sbar'd ; 
But  serious  in  thanksgiving;  'tis  a  year 
To  which  all  virtues,  like  the  people  here. 
Should  throng  nnd  cleave  togi?iber,  for  the  place 
[a  a  ill  maieh  for  the  whole  stock  of  grace  ; 
And  as  men  gather  wealth  'gainst  the  year  comes. 
So  should  lliey  gather  goodness  with  their  suma; 
For  'tts  not  shows,  pomp,  nor  a  house  of  slate 
Curiously  dcck'd,  rliat  makes  a  magistrate; 
'Tis  his  fair,  noble  soul,  his  wisdom,  care, 
His  upriglit  justness  to  the  oath  he  sware, 
Gives  him  complete:  when  such  a  man  lu  me 
Spreads  his  arms  open,  there  my  palace  be! 
He's  both  an  honour  to  the  d^y  so  grac'd. 
And  to  his  brotherhood's  love,  that  sees  bim  plac'd  ; 
And  in  hia  fair  deportment  there  revives 
The  ancient  fame  of  all  his  brothers'  lives. 

Afler  this,  for  the  full  close  of  ibe  forenoon's 
triumph,  near  St.  Laurence-Lane  his  lordship  re- 
ceives  an  entertainment  from  an  unparalleled  mas- 
terpiece of  art,  called  the  Crystal  Sanctuary,  styled 
by  the  name  of  the  Temple  of  Integrity,  where  her 
immaculate  self,  with  all  her  glorious  and  sanctimo- 
nious concomitants,  sit,  transparently  seen  through 
the  crystal ;  and  more  to  express  the  invention  and 
the  art  of  the  engineer,  as  also  for  motion,  variety, 
and  the  content  of  the  spectators,  this  Crystal 
Temple  is  made  to  open  in  many  parts,  at  fit  and 
convenient  times,  and  upon  occasion  of  the  speech  : 
the  columns  or  pillars  of  this  Crystal  Sanctuary  are 
gold,  the  battlements  silver,  the  whole  fabric  for 


THE  TRIUMFRI  or  INTEOHITY. 


the  night -triunipli  adorned  and  beautified  with 
many  lights,  dispersing  their  glorious  radtancea  on 
all  sides  thorough  the  crystal. 

The  speech  from  the  Sanctuary, 
Have  you  a  mind,  thick  multitude,  to  see 
A  virtue  near  concerns  magistracy. 
Here  on  my  temple  throw  your  greedy  eyen. 
See  me,  and  learn  to  know  me,  then  you're  wise ; 
Look  and  look  through  me,  I  no  favour  crave, 
Nor  keep  1  hid  the  goodness  you  should  have ; 
'Tis  all  transparent  what  I  think  or  do, 
And  with  one  look  your  eye  may  pierce  rae  through ; 
There's  no  disguise  or  bypocritic  veil, 
Us'd  by  aduherous  beauty  set  to  sale. 
Spread  o'er  my  actions  for  respect  or  fear, 
Only  a  crystal,  which  approves*  me  clear. 
Would  you  desire  my  name?  Integrity, 
One  that  is  ever  what  she  seems  to  he ; 
So  manifesi,  perspicuous,  plain,  and  clear. 
You  may  e'en  see  my  thoughts  as  they  sit  here; 
I  think  upon  fair  Equity  and  Truth, 
And  there  they  ail  crown'd  with  eternal  youth ; 
I  tin  my  cogitations  upon  love. 
Peace,  meekness,  and  those  thoughts  come  from 

above : 
The  temple  of  an  upright  magistrate 
Is  my  fair  sanctuary,  throne,  and  stale;' 
And  as  I  dare  Detraction's  evill'st  eye, 
Sore  at  the  sight  of  goodness,  to  espy  | 

Into  my  ways  and  actions,  which  lie  ope 
To  every  censure,  arm'd  with  a  strong  hope, — 
So  of  your  pan  ought  nothing  to  he  done, 
But  what  the  envious  eye  might  look  upon  : 


31C  THE  TKtUMFIlfl  or  INTEOMTT, 

As  ihou  an  eminent,  so  must  tliy  nets 
He  all  lr:ilucent,i  anj  leave  tvorthy  tracts 
For  fuitirc  times  to  linJ,  tliy  very  breast 
Transparent,  like  tliis  place  nlierein  1  ri;st. 
Vain  doubtings  1  all  thy  days  have  lie«n  so  clear, 
Never  catnc  nobler  hope  to  fill  a  year. 

At  llic  close  or  this  speech  this  cryslnl  Temple 
of  Integrity,  with  all  lier  celestial  concomitants  and 
the  other  parts  of  Triumph,  lake  leave  of  his  lord- 
ship for  that  time,  and  rest  from  service  till  the 
great  feast  be  ended;  after  which  the  whole  body 
of  the  Triumph  attends  upon  his  honour,  both  lo- 
ivards  Saint  Paul's  and  homeward,  his  lordship 
accompanied  with  the  grave  and  honourable  sena- 
tors of  the  city,  amongst  whom  the  two  worthy 
consuls,  his  lordship's  grave  assistants  for  the 
year,  the  worshipful  ancf  generous  master  Ralph 
Freemsn  and  master  Thomas  Moulson,  sheriffs  and 
aldermen,  ought  not  to  pass  of  my  respect  unre- 

mbered,  wbose  bounty  and  nobleness  will  prove 


it  thei 


e  entrance  of  Wood  Street,  that  part  of 
Triumph  being  planted  to  which  the  concluding 
speech  hnth  chiefly  reference,  and  the  rest  about 
the  Cross,  I  thought  fit  in  this  place  to  give  this  its 
full  illustration,  it  being  an  invention  both  glorious 
and  proper  to  the  Company,  bearing  the  name  of 
the  thrice-royal  Canopy  of  Slate,  being  the  honoured 
arms  of  this  fraternity,  the  three  Imperial  Crowns 
cast  into  the  form  and  bigness  of  a  triumphal  page> 
ant,  with  cloud  and  sunbeams,  those  beams,  by  en- 
ginoua''  art,  made  often  to  mount  and  spread  like  b 
golden  and  glorious  canopy  over  the  deified  persons 


K.]!. 


e  GifTord's 


a  D.  loL 


that  are  placed  under  it,  which  are  eight  in  number, 
figuring  the  eight  Beatitudes;  lo  improve  which* 
conceit,  Beali  pacifici,  being  the  king's  word  or 
motto,  ia  aet  in  fair  great  letters  near  the  uppermost 
of  the  three  crowns ;  and  as  in  all  great  edifices  or 
buildings  the  king's  arras  is  especially  remembered, 
as  a[n]  honour  to  the  building  and  builder,  in  the 
frontispiece,  so  is  it  comely  and  requisite  in  these 
matters  of  Triumph,  framed  for  the  inauguration 
of  his  great  substitute,  the  lord  mayor  of  London, 
that  some  remembrance  of  honour  should  reflect 
upon  his  majesty,  by  whose  peaceful  government, 
under  heaven,  we  enjoy  the  solemnity, 

The  speech,  liaving  reference  to  this  Imperial  Canopy, 

being  the  Drapers'  armt. 
The  blessedness,  peace,  honour,  and  renown. 
This  kingdom  does  enjoy,  under  the  crown 
Worn  by  that  royal  peace-maker  our  king, 
So  oft  prescrv'd  from  dangers  menacing. 
Makes  this  arms,  glorious  in  itself,  outgo 
All  that  antiquity  could  ever  shew ; 
And  thy  fraternity  hath  striv'd  t'  appear 
In  all  their  course  worthy  the  arms  they  bear ; 
Thrice  have  they  crown'd  their  goodness  this  one 

With  love,  with  care,  with  cost ;  by  which  they  may, 
By  their  deserts,  most  justly  these  arms  claim. 
Got  once  by  worth,  now  trebly  held  by  fame. 
Shall  I  bring  honour  to  a  larger  field. 
And  shew  what  royal  business  these  arms  yield  ? 
First,  the  Three  Crowns  afford'  a  divine  scope. 
Set  for  the  graces.  Charity,  Faith,  and  Hope, 
Which  three  the  only  safe  combiners  be 
Of  kingdoms,  crowns,  and  every  company; 
■  wAJcA]  OM  ed.  •■  with,"  '  afford'\  Old  eil.  "  sffbrdi." 


Likewise,  ivith  just  propriety  ihey  may  stand 

For  those  tiiree  kingdoms,  sway'd  by  the  meek  hantl 

Of  blest  James,  England,  Scotland,  Ireland: 

The  Cloud  that  s we  11b  beneath  'em  may  imply 

Some  envious  mist  east  forth  by  heresy. 

Which,  through  his  happy  reign  and  heaven's  blcsl 

will, 
The  sunbeams  of  the  Gospel  strike'  through  atiU  ; 
More  to  assure  ii  to  succeeding  men, 
We  have  the  crown  of  Britain's  hope  agen,'' 
Illostrious  Charles  our  prince,  which  all  will  say 
Adds  the  chief  joy  and  honour  to  this  day  ; 
And  as  three  crowns,  three  fruits  of  brotherhood. 
By  which  all  love's  worth  may  be  understood. 
To  threefold  honour  make'  the  royal  suit. 
In  the  king,  prince,  and  the  king's  substitute; 
By  th'  eif;ht  Beatitudes  ye  understand 
The  fulness  t)f  all  blessings  to  this  land, 
More  chiefly  to  this  city,  whose  safe  peace 
Good  angels  guard,  and  good   men's  prayers  in- 

May  all  succeeding  honour'd  brothers  be 
With  as  much  love  brought  home  as  thine  bring*" 
thee ! 

For  all  the  proper  adornments  of  art  and  work- 
manship in  so  short  a  time,  so  gracefully  setting 
forth  the  body  of  so  magniticent  a  Triumph,  the 
praise  comes,  as  a  Just  due,  to  the  exquisite  de- 
servings  of  master  Garret  Crismas,"  whose  faithful 
performances  still  take  the  upper  hand  of  his  pro- 

I  Miriii']  Old  ed,  ■'  alrikei." 

^  agin'}  Sre  note,  p.  IDS.  —  An  alluiion  to  the  return  of 
Charlea  from  Spun. 

■  irifl*»]  Old  ed.  '■  mikfi."  -  hri<ig]  Old  ed.  "  bring..- 

•  Critwoi]  Sic  natn,  p.  200. 


THE  TRIUMPHS 


OF 


HEALTH  AND  PROSPERITY. 


m 


The  Ttivmpfu  qf  Health  and  Protptrity,  A  noble  Solemnity 
performed  through  the  City,  at  the  sole  Cost  and  Charges  qfthe 
Honorable  Fraternity  of  Drapers,  at  the  Inauguration  of  their 
most  Worthy  Brother,  the  Right  Honorable,  Cuthbert  Hacket, 
Lord  Major  <if  the  Famous  City  rf  London,  By  Tho,  Middleton 
Gent,  Imprinted  at  Ijondon  by  Nicholas  Okes,  dwelling  in  Foster 
lane,  mdcxxvi.  4to. 


TWoij-tcki 


THE  TRIUMPHS 


HEALTH  AND  PROSPERITY. 


If  you  should  search  all  chronicles,  histories,  re- 
cords, in  wlmt  language  or  letter  soever;  if  the 
inquisitive  man  should  vraste  the  dear  treasure  ot' 
his  time  and  eyesight,  he  shall  conclude  his  life 
only  with  this  certainty,  that  there  is  no  subject 
upon  earth  received  iuto  the  place  of  his  govern- 
ment with  the  like  state  and  magnificence  as  is 
his  Majesty's  great  substitute  into  his  hononrahlt- 
charge,  the  city  of  London,  bearing  the  inscription 
of  the  Chamber  Royal ;  which,  that  it  may  now 
appear  to  the  world  no  less  illustrated  with  bro- 
therly affection  than  former  triumphal  times  have 
been  partakers  of,  this  takes  delight  to  present 
itself. 

And  first  to  enter  the  worthy  love  of  his  honour- 
able Society  for  his  lordship's  return  from  West- 
minster,  having  received  some  service  by  water,  by 
the  triumphant  Chariot  of  Honour,  the  first  that 
attends  his  lordship's  most  wished  arrival  bears  the 
title  of  the  Beautiful  Hill  or  Frngrant  Garden,  with 
flowery  banks,  near  'to  which  lambs  and  sheep  arc 
a-grazing.  This  platform,  so  cast  into  a  hill,  is 
adorned  and  garnished  with  all  variety  of  odori- 


CmtA  *m  MM  J    -        m^  U^ik  »" 


A  ctoad  of  grief  kidi  ibewer'd  ■pan  tbe  &ce 

or  ihi*  Md  ciij.  ■■¥]  saorp'd  (be  pUee 

Of  joT  mhI  cbeerralDeM,  wearing  tbe  form 

Of  a  long  black  rclipie  in  a  rough  storm: 

With  »howcri*  of  tear*  ihU  garden  xas  o'erflowu. 

Till  mercy  was,  like  the  blest  rainbow,  sbewn  : 

*  AautTt\  Old  eJ.  "  flowcn." 


FROSFEBITT.  325 

Behold  nhat  figure  non  tlie  city  bears  ! 
Like  gems  unvalued,''  her  best  joys  she  nears, 
Glad  as  a  faithful  handmaid  to  obey. 
And  wait  upon  the  honour  of  this  day, 
Fix'd  in  the  king's  great  substitute:  delight, 
Triumph,  and  pomp,  had  almost  lost  their  right : 
The  garden  springs  again ;  the  violet-beds. 
The  lofty  flowers,  bear  up  their  fragrant  heads ; 
Fruit  overlade  their  trees,  bams  crack  with  store; 
And  yet  how  much  the  heavens  wept  before. 
Threatening  a  second  mourning .'  Who  so  dull, 
But  must  acknowledge  mercy  was  at  full 
In  these  two  mighty  blessings  ?  what's  requir'd  7 
That  which  in  conscience  ought  to  be  desir'd; 
Care  and  uprightness  in  the  magistrate's  place, 
And  in  all  men  obedience,  truth,  and  grace. 

Afler  this,  awaits  his  lordship's  approach  a  mas- 
terpiece of  triumph,  called  the  Sanctuary  of  Pro- 
sperity; on  the  top  arch  of  which  hangs  the  Golden 
Fleece ;  which  raises  the  worthy  memory  of  tliat 
most  famous  and  renowned  brother  of  this  Com- 
pany, Sir  Francis  Drake,  who  in  two  years  and  ten 
months  did  encompass  the  whole  world,  deserving 
an  eminent  remembrance  in  this  Sanctuary,  who 
never  returned  to  his  country  without  the  golden 
fleece  of  honour  and  victory  i  the  four  fair  Corinth- 
s  imply  the  four  principal  vir- 


.  Wisdoi 


especial  upholders  of  kingdor 


,  Fortitude,  Tempera 


■,  the 


able 

The  speech  in  the  Sanctvwnj  upon  the  Fleece. 
If  Jason,  with  the  noble  hopes  of  Greece, 
Who  did  from  Colchis  fetch  the  golden  fleece, 

*  tmuaiHtd]  i.e.  invaluBble.     Old ed.  " vnTaleed." 


3S6 


THE  TBIVUFHS  Of 


Deserve  a  story  of  immorial  fame, 

That  both  tbe  Asiu  celebrate  his  name ; 

What  honour,  celebration,  and  r 

In  virtue's  right,  ought  justly  to  be  s! 

To  the  fair  memory  of  Sir  Francis  Drake, 

England's  true  Jason,  wtio  did  boldly  make 

So  many  rare  adventures,  nhich  were  held 

For  worth  unmatch'd,  danger  unparallel'd ; 

Never  returning  to  his  country's  eye 

Without  the  golden  fleece  of  victory! 

The  world's  a  sea,  and  every  magistrate 

Takes  a  year's  voyage  when  he  takes  this  state ; 

Nor  on  these  seas  are  there  less  dangers  found 

Than  those  on  which  the  bold  adventurer's  bound ; 

For  rocks,  gulfs,  quicksands,  here  is  malice,  spite. 

Envy,  detraction  of  all  noble  right ; 

Vessels  of  honour  those  do  threaten  more 

Than  any  ruin  between  sea  and  shore. 

Sail,  then,  by  the  compass  of  a  virtuous  name, 

And,  spite  of  spites,  ihou  bring'st  the  fleece  of  fame. 

Passing  from  this,  and  more  to  encourage  the 
noble  endeavours  of  the  magistrate,  his  lordship 
and  the  worthy  Company  are"  gracefully  conducted 
towards  [he  Chariot  of  Honour.  On  the  most  emi- 
nent seat  thereof  is  Government  illustrated,  it  being 
the  proper  virtue  by  which  we  raise  the  noble  me- 
mory of  Sir  Henry  Fitz-Alwin,  who  held  the  seat 
of  magistracy  in  this  city  twenty-four  years  to- 
gether, a  most  renowned  brother  of  this  Company : 
in  like  manner,  the  worth;  Sir  John  Norman,  [that] 
first  rowed  in  barge  to  Westminster  with  silver 
oars,  under  the  person  of  Munificence  :  Sir  Siitian 
Eyre,  that  biiitt  Leadenhall,  a  granary  for  the  poor, 
under  the  type  of  Piety ;  et  sic  de  celerii :  this 
■  ore]  Old  ed.  •' 


I 

I 


HEALTH  AKD  rROBPEKITY. 

Chariot  drawn  by  two  golden -pelleted  lions,  being 
the  proper  supponera  of  the  Company's 
those  two  that  have  their  seats  upon  the  liona  pre- 
senting Power  and  Honour,  the  one  in  a  little 
streamer  or  banneret  bearing  the  arms  of  the  pre- 
sent lord  mayor,  the  other  of  the  late,  the  truly 
generous  and  worthy  Sir  Allen  Cotton,  Knight,  a 
bounteous  and  a  noble  housekeeper,  one  that  hath 
spent  the  year  of  his  magistracy  to  the  great  honour 
of  the  city,  and  by  the  sweetness  of  his  disposition, 
and  the  uprighineaa  of  his  justice  and  government, 
halh  raised  up  a  fair  lasting  memory  to  himself  and 
his  posterity  for  ever ;  at  whose  happy  inaugurs- 
tion,  though  triumph  was  not  then  in  season  — 
Death's  pageants*  being  only  advanced  upon  the 
shoulders  of  men — his  noble  deservings  were  not 
thereby  any  way  eclipsed: 

Ett  nirtut  tibi  marmor,  el  integritaU  Iriumphal. 
The  speech  of  Government. 
With  just  propriety  does  this  city  stand, 
As  fix'd  by  fate,  i'  the  middle  of  the  land ; 
It  has,  as  in  the  body,  the  heart's  place. 
Fit  for  her  works  of  piety  and  grace  ; 
The  head  her  sovereign,  unto  whom  she  sends 
All  duties  that  just  service  comprehends  ; 
The  eyes  may  be  compar'd,  at  wisdom's  rale, 
To  the  illustrious  councillors  of  state, 
Set  in  that  orb  of  royalty,  to  give  light 
To  noble  actions,  stars  of  truth  and  right ; 
The  lips  the  reverend  clergy,  judges,  all 
That  pronounce  laws  divine  or  temporal ; 
The  arms  to  the  defensive  part  of  men  : 
So  I  descend  unto  the  heart  agen," 


TBS  tlUCMPHB  or 

V  you  are  j  witness  the  love 
cost   and  ttiumph,  all  which 

In  this  most  grave  solemnity  ;  and  in  lliia 

The  city's  general  love  abstracted  is  : 

And  as  the  heart,  in  its  meridian  seat, 

Is  etyVA  the  fountain  oC  the  body's  heat. 

The  first  thing  receives  life,  the  last  that  dies. 

Those  properties  experience  well  applies 

To  this  most  loyal  city,  ihai  hath  been 

In  former  ages,  as  in  these  limes,  seen 

The  fountain  of  alfeccion,  duty,  zeal, 

And  taught  all  cities  through  the  commonweal; 

The  first  that  receives  quickening  life  and  spirit 

From  the  king's  grace,  which  still  she  strives  t' 

And,  like  the  heart,  will  be  the  last  that  dies 
In  any  duty  toward  good  supplies. 
What  can  express  alfection's  nobler  fruit. 
Both  to  the  king,  and  you  his  substitute? 

At  the  close  of  this  speech,  this  Chariot  of  Ho- 
nour  and  Sanctuary  of  Prosperity,  iviih  all  her 
graceful  concomitants,  and  the  two  other  parts  of 
Triumph,  take  leave  of  his  lordship  for  that  time, 
and  rest  from  service  till  the  great  feast  at  Guild- 
hall be  ended;  after  which  the  whole  fabric  of  the 
Triumph  attends  upon  his  honour  both  towards 
Sl  Paul's  and  homeward,  his  lor^iship  accompanied 
with  the  grave  and  honourable  senators  of  the  city, 
amongst  whom  the  two  worthy  shrieves,  his  lord- 
ship's grave  assistants  for  the  year,  the  worshipful 
and  generous  master  Richard  Fen  and  master  Ed- 
ward Brumfietd,  ought  not  to  pass  of  my  respect 
unremembered,  whose   bounty  and  nobleness   for 


HEALTH  AND  PROSPERITT.  329 

Ihe  year  will  no  doubt  give  the  best  expression  to 
their  onn  worthJneaa.  Between  the  Cross  and  the 
;  of  Wood  Street,  that  part  of  Triumph 
being  planted — being  the  Fragrant  Garden  of  Eng- 
land with  the  Rainbow — to  which  ihe  concluding 
speech  hath  chiefly  reference,  there  lakes  its  fare- 
well of  his  lordship,  accompanied  with  the  Fountain 
of  Virtue,  being  the  fourth  part  of  the  Triumph. 


I 


The  last  speech. 

Mercy's  fair  object,  the  celestial  bow, 
As  in  the  morning  it  began  to  shew. 
It  closes  up  this  great  triumphal  day, 
And  hy  example  shews  the  year  the  way, 
Which  if  power  worthily  and  rightly  spend, 
It  must  with  mercy  both  begin  and  end. 
It  is  a  year  that  crowns  the  life  of  man, 
Brings  him  to  peace  with  honour,  and  what  can 
Be  more  desir'd?  'tis  virtue's  harvest-lime, 
When  gravity  and  judgment's  in  their  prime  : 
To  speak  more  happily,  'tis  a  time  given 
To  treasure  up  good  actions  fit  for  heaven. 
To  a  brotherhood  of  honour  thou  art  fixt, 

That  has  stood  long  fair  in  just  virtue's  eye; 
For  within  twelve  years'  space  thou  art  the  sixt 

That  has  been  lord  mayor  of  this  Company. 
This  is  no  usual  grace  :  being  now  the  last, 
Close  the  work  nobly  up,  that  what  is  past, 
And  known  to  be  good  in  the  former  five, 
May  in  thy  present  care  be  kept  alive : 
Then  is  thy  brotherhood  for  their  love  and  cost 
Requited  amply,  but  thy  own  soul  most. 
Health  and  a  happy  pence  fdl  all  thy  days ! 
When  thy  year  end»,  may  then  begin  thy  praise  ! 


I 


.13(1       IIIE   TBlCMniS  OF   HEALTH   AKD   PROSPERITT, 

For  the  fabric  or  structure  of  the  whole  Triumph, 
in  so  short  a  time  bo  gracefully  perrormed,  the  com- 
mendation of  that  the  industry  of  nwster  Garret 
Crisinas''  may  justly  challenae ;  s  man  not  only  ex~ 
celleni  in  his  art,  but  faithful  in  his  under  talc  inga, 

"  Cdmoi]  S«  nalc,  p.  i&O. 


THE  WISDOM  OF  SOLOMON 


PARAPHRASED. 


Ttu  Wuiami  of  S^emm  Paraphrastd.     IVrilleH  by  fl 
MitUMiHi.    A  jQ9t  nrgil  ejmi.    PrinUd  at  Limdan  by  Valt 


Sett,  dtnlting  an  jtdling  Ai 


To  the  Right  UonmtrabUandmy  very  good  Lord,  Bohert 
Devereux,  Earl  of  Etaex  and  Ewe,  Vacounl  of 
Hereford,  Lord  Ferrers  of  Charlley,  Borirchitr,  and 
Louvaine,  Master  of  Her  Majaty'a  Horte  and 
Ordjumce,  Knight  of  the  Honojirabte  Order  of  the 
Garter,  and  one  of  Her  Majesty'$  Moit  Sonour- 
able  Privff  Coujteil. 


TuE  summer's  harvest,  right  honourable,  ia  long 
since  reaped,  and  now  it  is  soning-time  again: 
behold,  i  have  scattered  a  few  seeds  upon  the 
young  ground  of  unskilfulness ;  if  it  bear  fruit,  my 
labour  is  well  bestowed  ;  but  if  it  be  barren,  I  shall 
have  less  joy  to  set  more.  The  husbandman  ob- 
serves the  courses  of  the  moon,  I  the  forces  of 
your  favour ;  he  desireth  sunshine,  I  cheerful 
countenance,  which  once  obiainecl,  my  harvest  of 
joy  will  soon  be  ripened.  My  seeds  as  yet  lodge 
in  the  bosom  of  the  earth,  like  infants  upon  the  lap 
of  a  favourite,  wanting  the  budding  spring-time  of 
their  growth,  not  knowing  the  east  of  their  glory, 
the  west  of  their  quietness,  the  south  of  their  sum- 
mer, the  north  of  their  winter  ;  but  if  the  beams  of 
your  aspects  lighten  the  small  moiety  of  a  smaller 
implanting,  I  shall  have  an  every-day  harvest,  a 
fruition  of  content,  a  branch  of  felicity. 

Your  Honour's  addicted  in  all  obDervance, 

Thomas  Middletok. 


TO  THE  GENTLEMEN-READERS. 


Gentlsmes, — I  give  you  the  aurveytnce  of  my 
new-bought  ground,  and  will  only  «tand  unto  your 
verdicts.  I  fear  mi;  ihat  tlie  acres  of  my  field  para 
.the  ankers  of  my  seed;  if  wanting  seed,  then  I 
hope  it  will  not  be  too  much  seeded.  This  is  my  bare 
excuse ;  but,  trust  me,  had  my  wit  been  gufiicient 
to  maintain  the  freedom  of  my  will,  then  boih  should 
have  been  answerable  to  your  wishes ;  yet,  neverthe- 
less, think  of  ii  as  a  wilting,  though  not  a  fulfilhng 
moiety.  But  what  mean  I  ?  While  I  thus  argue, 
MomuB  and  Zoilus,  those  two  ravens,  clevoiir  my 
seed,  because  I  lack  a  scarecrow ;  indeed,  so  1  may 
have  less  than  I  have,  when  such  foul-gutted  ravens 
awallow  up  my  portion :  if  you  gape  for  stuffing, 
hie  you  to  dead  carrion  carcasses,  and  make  them 
your  ordinaries.  I  beseech  you,  gentlemen,  let  me 
have  your  aid ;  and  as  you  have  seen  the  first  prac- 
tice of  my  husbandry  in  sowing,  so  let  me  have  your 
helping  hands  unto  my  reaping. 

Yours,  devoted  in  friendship, 

Thomas  Middletok. 


I 


THE  WISDOM  OF  SOLOMON 


Chac.  I. 
Wisdom,  elixir  of  the  purest  life. 

Hath  taught  her  lesson  to  judicial  views, 
To  (hose  that  judge  a  cause  und  end  a  strife. 

Which  sit'  in  judgment's  seat  and  justice  usi 
A  lesson  worthy  ofdivinest  eare. 
Quintessence  of  a  true  divinest  fear  : 


Unwilling  that  exordium  should  retain 
Her  life-infusing  speech,  dotli  thus  begin: 

Vou,  quoth  she,  that  give  remedy  or  pain. 
Love  justice,  for  injustice  is  a  sin; 

Give  unto  God  hie  due,  his  reverend  style, 

And  rather  use  simplicity  than  guile. 

For  him  that  guides  the  radiant  eye  of  day,  2 

Sitting  in  his  star-chamber  of  the  sky. 

The  horizons  and  heraiaplieres  obey, 
And  winds,  the  fillers  of  vacuity  ; 

Much  less  should  man  tempt  God,  when  all  obey. 

But  rather  be  a  guide,  and  lead  the  nay. 

For  tempting  argues  but  a  sin's  allempt. 

Temptation  is  to  sin  associate ; 
So  doing,  thou  from  God  art  clean  exempt. 

Whose  love  is  never  plac'd  in  his  love's  hate  : 
He  will  be  found  not  of  a  templing  mind, 
But  found  of  those  which  he  doth  faithful  find. 


rat  WIIDOM  OF  SOLOMON  PAKAPHKASBO. 


Temptation  rather  separRtes  from  God,  3 

Converting  goodnesa  from  the  ihing  it  was. 

Heaping  the  indignation  of  liis  rod 
To  bruiac  our  bodies  like  a  brittle  glans ; 

For  wicked  thoughts  have  still  a  wicked  end. 

In  making  God  our  foe,  nluch  n«s  our  friend. 

They  muster  up  revenge,  encamp  our  hate, 
Undoin);  what  before  they  tneant  to  do, 

■Stirring  up  anger  and  unlucky  fate, 

Making  the  earth  their  friend,  the  heaven  their 

nanifcEt  his  power, 
n  like  foes  devour. 

O  foolish  men,  to  war  against  your  bliss!  4 

O  hateful  hearts,  where  wisdom  never  reign'dl 

O  wicked  thoughts,  which  ever  thought  amiss  I 

What  have  you  reap'd?  what  pleasure  have  you  1 

A  fruit  in  show,  a  pleasure  to  decay. 
This  have  you  got  by  keeping  folly's  way. 

For  wisdom's  harvest  is  with  folly  nipt. 
And  with  the  winter  of  your  vice's  frost. 

Her  fruit  all  scatier'd,  her  implanting  ript. 
Her  name  decayed,  her  fruition  lost: 

Nor  can  she  prosper  in  a  plot  of  vice. 

Gaining  no  Bummer's  warmth,  but  winter's  ice. 

Thou  barren  earth,  where  virtues  never  bud;         i 
The  fruitless  womb,  where  never  fruits  abide; 

And  thou  dry-wither'd  sap,  which  bears  no  good 
But  the  dishonour  of  thy  proud  heart's  pride : 

A  seat  of  all  deceit, — deceit  deceiv'd, 

Thy  hlias  a  woe,  thy  woe  of  bliss  bereav'd! 


THE  WISDOM  OF  SOLOUON   PARAPHRASED,        339 

This  place  of  night  haih  left  no  place  for  day, 
Here  never  shines  the  sun  of  discipline, 

But  mischief  clad  in  sable  night's  array, 
Thought's  apparition — evil  angel's  sign; 

These  reign  enhous^d  with  their  mother  night, 

To  cloud  the  day  of  clearest  wisdom's  light. 

O  you  that  practise  to  be  chief  in  sin,  0 

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

What  do  you  gain  ?  what  merit  do  you  win. 
To  be  blaspheming  vice's  practiser? 

Your  gain  is  wisdom's  everlasting  hate, 

Your  merit  grief,  your  grief  your  life's  debate. 

Thou  canst  not  hide  thy  thought — God  made  thy 
thought, 

Let  this  thy  caveat  be  for  thinking  ill ; 
Thou  know'st  that  Christ  tby  living  freedom  bought. 

To  live  on  earth  according  to  his  will: 
God  being  thy  creator,  Christ  ihy  hiias. 
Why  dost  thou  err  ?  why  dost  thou  do  amiss  ? 

He  is  both  judge  and  witness  of  thy  deeds,  7 

He  knows  the  volume  which  thy  heart  conla' 

Christ  skips  thy  faults,  only  thy  virtue  reads. 
Redeeming  thee  from  nil  thy  vice's  pains  ; 

O  happy  crown  of  mortal  man's  content. 

Sent  for  our  joy,  our  joy  in  being  sent ! 

Then  sham'st  thou  not  to  err,  to  sin,  to  stray. 
To  come  to  composition  with  thy  vice. 

With  new-purg'd  feet  lo  tread  the  oldest  way. 
Leading  new  sense  onto  thy  old  device  f 

Thy  shame  might  flow  in  thy  sin-flowing  face. 

Rather  than  ebb  to  make  an  ebb  of  grace. 


340     THB  wiiimx  or  mvomoii  rABArn>jisci>. 

For  he  which  rules  the  orb  ofhcaven  aixl  earlh,  8 
And  the  ineqiul  course  of  every  aur. 

Did  knon  man'i  ihoughis  and  secrets  at  his  birth. 
Whether  inclin'd  to  peace  or  discord's  jar : 

He  knows  what  tnati  will  be  ere  he  be  man. 

And  all  his  deeds  in  his  life's  living  span. 

TheD  'til  impossible  that  eanh  cao  hide 
Unrighteous  actions  from  a  righteous  God, 

For  he  can  see  their  feet  in  ain  that  slide. 

And  those  that  lodge  in  right eousness'  abode ; 

He  will  extend  his  mercy  on  the  good, 

His  wrath  on  those  in  whom  no  virtues  bud. 

Many  there  be,  that,  after  trespass  done. 
Will  seek  a  covert  for  to  hide  their  shame. 

And  range  about  the  earth,  thinking  to  shun 
God's  heavy  wraih  and  meritorious''  blame  ; 

They,  thinking  to  fly  sin,  run  into  sin, 

And  think  to  end  when  they  do  new  begin. 

God  made  the  eanh,  the  earth  denies  their  suit. 
Nor  can  they  harbour  in  the  centre's  womb  ; 

God  knows  their  thoughts,  aUhougb  their  tongues 
be  muie, 
Aodhears  the  sounds  from  forth  their  bodies' tomb : 

Sounds  7  ah  !  no  sounds,  but  roan  himself  he  hears, 

Too  true  a  voice  of  man's  most  falsest  feara. 

O  see  destruction  hovering  o'er  thy  head. 
Mantling  herself  in  wickedness'  array  ! 

Hoping  to  make  thy  body  as  her  bed, 

■fhy  vice  her  nutriment,  thy  soul  her  prey  : 

Thou  faast  forsaken  him  that  was  thy  guide, 

And  see  what  follows  id  assuage  thy  pride ! 


THE  niBDOH  OF   SOLOMON   FARAFHBA5B0.        341 

Thy  roaring  vice's  noise  hath  cloy'd  his  ears, 

Like  foamingwaveslheyhaTeo'erwhelm'd  thy  joy; 

Thy  murmuring,''  which  thy  whole  body  bears. 
Hath  bred  thy  wail,  thy  wail  thy  life's  annoy  : 

Unhappy  thoughts,  to  make  a  soul's  decay, 

Unhappy  soul,  in  suffering  thoughts  to  sway ! 

Then  sith''  the  height  of  man's  felicity  1 1 

Is  pjung'd  within  the  puddle  of  misdeeds, 

And  wades  amongst  discredit's  infamy. 
Blasting  the  merit  of  his  virtues'  seeds  ; 

Beware  of  murmuring, — the  chiefest  ill, 

From  whence  all  sin,  all  vice,  all  pains  distil. 

O  heavy  doom  proceeding  from  a  tongue, 

Heavy-light  tongue  —  tongue  to  thy  own  decay. 

In  virtue  weak,  in  wickedness  coo  strong, 

To  mischief  prone,  from  goodness  gone  astray  ; 

Hammer  to  forge  misdeeds,  to  temper  lies, 

Selling  ihy  life  to  death,  thy  soul  to  cries! 

Must  death  needs  pay  the  ransom  of  thy  sin  12 

With  the  dead  carcass  of  descending  spirit? 

Wilt  thou  offeree  be  snared  in  his  gin. 

And  place  thy  error  in  destruction's  merit? 

Life,  seek  not  for  thy  death  ;  death  eomes  unsought, 

Buying  ihe  life  which  not  long  since  was  bought. 


Death  and  destruction  never  need"  a  call, 
They  are  attendants  on  life's  pilgrimage. 

And  life  to  them  is  as  their  playing  ball. 
Grounded  upon  destruction's  anchorage  ; 

Seek  not  for  that  which  unsought  will  betide, 

Ne'er  wants  destruction  a  provoking  guide. 


'  .ith]  i, 


uriBj]  Old  ed. ' 


r  8OLOU0H  FAKAPHSASKD. 


Will  you  needs  act  your  ovm  destmctionf  13 

Will  you  needs  harbour  your  own  overthrow?      _ 

Or  will  you  cause  your  owo  eTcrsion, 

Beginning  nith  despair,  ending  with  woeT 

Then  dye  your  hearts  in  tyranny's  array,  ' 


To  make  acquittance  of  d 


ipay. 


What  do  you  meditate  but  on  your  death? 

What  do  you  practise  but  your  living  fall? 
Who  of  you  all  have  any  virtue's  breath, 

Itut  ready  armed  at  a  mischiers  call  ? 
God  is  not  pleased  at  your  vices'  savour, 
But  you  best  pleased  when  you  lose  his  favour. 


t  death  to  be  your  conqueror, 
o  conquer  over  death  and  hell ; 


He  made  n 

But  you 
Nor  you  to  be  destructioc 

Enhoused  there  where  majesty  should  dwell : 
God  made  man  to  obey  at  his  behest, 
And  man  to  be  obey'd  of  every  beast. 

He  made  not  death  to  be  our  labour's  hire. 
But  we  ourselves  made  death  through  our  t 

Here  never 'was  the  kingdom  of  hell-fire. 

Before  the  brand  was  kindled  in  roan's  heart: 
Now  man  deGcth  God,  all  creatures  man, 
Vice  llourisheth,  and  virtue  lieth  wan. 

O  fruitiul  tree,  whose  root  is  always  green. 

Whose  blossoms  ever  bud,  whose  fruits  increut,  _ 

Whose  top  celestial  virtue's  seat  hath  been, 
Defended  by  the  sovereignty  of  peace! 

This  tree  is  righteousness  ;  O  happy  tree. 

Immortalised  by  thine  own  decree! 


W 


THE  WISDOM  OF  SO  LOU  OH 


O  hateful  plant,  whose  root  ia  always  dry, 

Whose  blossoms  never  bud,  whose  fruits  decrease, 

On  whom  sits  the  infernal  deity, 

To  take  possession  of  so  foul  a  lease  1 

This  plant  is  vice;  O  too  unhappy  plant, 

Ever  to  die,  and  never  fill  death's  want ! 

Accursed  in  thy  growth,  dead  in  thy  root,  16 

Canker'd  with  sin,  shaken  with  every  wind. 

Whose  top  doth  nothing  differ  from  the  foot, 
Mischief  the  sap,  and  wickedness  the  rind  ; 

So  (he  ungodly,  like  this  wither'd  tree, 

Is  slack  in  doing  good,  in  ill  too  free. 

Like  thi»  their  wicked  growth,  too  fast,  too  slow ; 

Too  fast  in  sloth,  too  slow  in  virtue's  haste; 
They  think  their  vice  a  friend  when  'lis  a  foe, 

Tn  good,  in  wic)(edness,  too  slow,  too  fast: 
And  as  this  tree  decays,  so  do  they  all, 
Each  one  copartner  of  the  other's  fall. 

Cnxr.  II. 
Indeed  they  do  presage  what  will  betide,  1 

With  the  misgiving  verdict  of  misdeeds; 
They  know  a  fall  will  follow  a^er  pride. 

And  in  so  foul  a  heart  grow''  many  weeds : 
Our  life  is  short,  quoth  they ;  no,  'tis  too  long, 
Lengthen'd  with  evil  thoughts  and  evil  tongue. 

A  life  must  needs  be  short  to  them  thnt  dies. 
For  life  once  dead  in  sin  doth  weakly  live ; 

These  die  in  sin,  and  mask  in  death's  disguise. 
And  never  think  thai  death  new  life  can  give; 

They  say,  life  dead  can  never  live  again  : 

O  thoughts,  O  words,  O  deeds,  fond,'  foolish,  vain ! 

'  g'lM'^  Old  ed.  "  growei."  '  /end]  i.  e.  silly,  idle. 


344     TBE  wuDOM  or  mlomok  fabjfi»a)». 

Villi'  lire,  to  harbour  where  iiicb  dcatb  abodes,     2 
Abodes  none  tbui  are  ihoaght*,  ibougbu  worse 

Words  haiTas  ill  as  deedn,  deeda  sorroir**  ode«. 

Odea  ill  enchanters  of  too  ill  records ! 
Thought!,  words,  and  deeds,  conjoined  io  one  soDg 
May  cause  an  echo  rrom  destruction's  tongue. 

Quoth  they,  'tis  chance  nbetber  we  live  or  die. 

Born  or  abortiTC,  be  or  never  be; 
We  worship  Forttine,  she's  our  deity ; 

If  she  denies,  no  vital  breath  hare  we  ; 
Here  are  we  placed  in  this  orb  of  death. 
This  breath  once  gone,  we  never  look  for  breath.  ' 

Between  both  life  and  death,  both  hope  and  fear,  3 
Between  our  joy  and  grief,  bliss  and  despair, 

We  here  possess  [he  fruit  of  what  is  here. 
Born  ever  for  to  die,  and  die  death's  heir  : 

Our  heritage  is  death  anoex'd  to  life. 

Our  portion  death,  our  death  on  endless  strife. 

What  is  our  life,  but  our  life's  tragedy, 

Extinguish'd  in  a  momentary  time? 
And  life  to  murder  life  is  cruelty, 

Unripely  withering  in  a  flowery  prime ; 
An '  urn  of  ashes  pleasing  but  the  shows. 
Once  dry,  the  toiling  spirit  wandering  goes- 
Like  as  the  traces  of  appearing  clouds 

Give*  way  when  Titan  re-salutes  the  sea. 
With  new-chang'd  flames  gilding  the  ocean's  flo< 

Kissing  the  cabinet  where  Thetis  lay  ; 
So  fares  our  life,  when  death  doih  give  the  woo^ 
Our  life  is  led  by  death,  a  captive  bound. 

■  »'iW]  See  note,  p.  139.  'A,,]  Old  fd.  "  And.'" 


TBZ   VISDOU 


FABAFURASED,      345 


When  Sol  beBirides  his  golden  mounlain's  top. 
Lightening  heaven's  tapers  with  his  living  fire, 

All  gloomy  powers  have  their  diurnal  stop, 
And  never  gain'  the  darkness  they  desire  ; 

So  perisheth  our  name  when  we  are  dead, 

Ourselves  ne'er  call'd  to  mind,  our  deeds  ne'er  read. 

What  is  the  lime  we  have  ?  what  be  our  days?      j 
Xo  time,  but  sliadoiv  of  what  time  should  be. 

Days  in  the  place  of  hours,  which  never  stays. 
Beguiling  sight  of  that  which  sight  should  see: 

As  soon  as  they  begin,  ihey  have  their  fine  ; 

Ne'er  wax,  still  wane^  ne'er  stay,  but  still  decline. 

Life  may  be  call'd  the  shadow  of  effect, 

Because  the  cloud  of  death  dotli  shadow  it ; 

Nor«an  our  life  approaching  death  reject. 
They  both  in  one  for  our  election  sit ; 

Death  follows  life  in  every  degree. 

But  life  to  follow  death  you  never  see. 

Come  we,  whose  old  decrepit  age  doth  halt,  6 

Like  limping  winter,  in  our  winter,  sia  ; 

Faulty  ne  iinow  we  are — tush,  what's  a  fault? 
A  shadow'd  vision  of  destruction's  gin  ; 

Our  life  begun  n-iih  vice,  so  let  it  end. 

It  is  a  servile  labour  to  amend. 

Wejoy'd  in  sin,  and  let  our  joys  renew; 

We  joy'd  in  vice,  and  let  our  joys  remain ; 
To  present  pleasures  future  hopes  ensue. 

And  joy  once  lost,  let  us  fetch  back  again : 
Although  our  age  can  lend  no  youthful  pace, 
Yet  let  our  minds  follow  our  youthful  race. 


3-16       THE   WUDOU   OF  BOLOUON  PARAPKKASBD. 

What  tlioiigh  old  age  Hes  heavy  on  our  back, 

Analoniy  of  an  oge-crookcd  clime. 
Let  mini]  pETform  that  which  our  bodies  lack, 

And  change  old  age  into  «  youthful  time: 
Tvro  heavy  ihingB  are  more  than  one  can  bear ;  J 
Black  may  the  garments  be,  the  body  dear. 

Decaying  thing*  be  needful  of  repair- 
Trees  eaten  out  with  years  must  needs  decline ; 

Nature  in  time  with  foul  doth  cloud  her  fair, 
Begirting  youthful  days  with  age's  twine : 

We  live;  and  while  we  live,  come  let  us  joy  j 

To  think  of  after-life,  'tis  but  a  toy. 

We  know  God  made  us  in  a  living  form,  S 

But  we'll  unmake,  and  make  ourselves  again; 

Unmake  that  which  is  made,  like  winier'i  storm. 
Make  unmade  tilings  to  aggravate  our  pain  : 

God  was  our  maker,  and  he  made  us  good. 

But  our  descent  springs  from  another  blood. 

He  made  uh  for  to  live,  we  mean  to  die ; 

He    made    the  heaven  our   seat,  we  make    Oie 
earth ; 
Each  fashion  makes  a  contrariety, 

God  truest  God,  man  falsest  from  his  binh : 
Quoth  they,  this  earth  shall  be  our  chiefest  heaven, 
Our  sin  the  anchor,  and  our  vice  the  haven. 

Let  heaven  in  earth,  and  earth  in  heaven  consist,  9 
This    earth   is   heaven,    this  heaven    is    earthly 
heaven ; 

Repugnant  earth  repugnant  heaven  resist. 
We  joy  in  earth,  of  other  joys  bereaven  : 

This  is  the  paradise  of  our  delight; 

Here  let  us  live,  and  die  in  heaven's  spile. 


347 

Here  let  the  monuments  of  wanton  sports 

Be  seated  in  a  wantonness'  disguise  ; 
Clos'd  in  the  circuit  of  venereal  forts, 

To  feed  the  long-starv'd  sight  of  amour's  eyes  ; 
Be  this  the  chronicle  of  our  content, 
How  we  did  sport  on  earth,  still  sport  was  spent. 

But  in  the  glory  of  the  brightest  day,  10 

Heaven's  smoothest  brow  sometime  is  furrowed. 

And  clouds  usurp  the  clime  in  dicn  array. 

Darkening  the  light  lyhich  heaven  had  borrowed  ; 

So  in  this  earthly  heaven  we  daily  see 

Thai  grief  is  placed  where  delight  should  be. 

Here  live^  the  righteous,  bane  unto  their  lives, 
O,  sound  from  forth  the  hollow  cave  of  woe ! 

Here  live''  age-erook^d  fathers,  widow'd  wives- 
Poor,  and  yet  rich  in  fortune's  overthrow : 

Let  them  not  live;  let  us  increase  their  want. 

Make  barren  their  desire,  augment  their  scaut. 

Our  law  is  correspondent  to  our  doom,  11 

Our  law  to  doom,  is  dooming  law's  offence; 

Each  one  agreelh  in  the  other's  room, 

To   punish  that   which   strives   and   wants    de- 

This,  cedar-like,  doth  make  the  shrub  to  bend, 
When  shrubs  do'  waste  their  force  but  to  contend. 

The  weakest  power  is  subject  to  obey  ; 

The  mushrooms  humbly  kiss  the  cedar's  foot. 
The  cedar  flourishes  when  they  decay, 

Because  her  strength  is  grounded  on  a  root;  • 

We  are  the  cedars,  they  the  mushrooms  be, 
Unabled  shrubs  unto  an  abled  tree. 


►  /i»]  Old  ed.  " 


'  do}  Old  ed.  "  dolb." 


348       TBI  HISDOH  OF  SOLOMOK 

Then  »itli"  the  weaker  gives  ihe  stronger  pUce,   12 
Tlie  youn^  the  elder,  and  the  foot  (he  lop. 

The  low  ihe  high,  the  hidden  powera  the  face. 
All  beasts  the  lion,  every  spring  hja  atop ; 

Let  those  which  practise  contrariety 

Be  join'd  to  us  with  inequality. 

They  say  ihat  wc  offend,  we  isy  they  do ; 

Their  blame  is  laid  on  ui,  our  blame  on  tbem ; 
They  strike,  and  we  retort  the  slruckeo  blow ; 

So  in  each  garment  there's  a  difTering  bem: 
We  end  with  contraries,  as  they  begun. 
Unequal  sharing  of  wbal  either  won. 

In  thie  long  conflict  between  tongue  and  tongue,  13 
Tongue   new    beginning  what   one    tongue    did 

Made  this  cold  battle  hot  in  eiibcr's  wrong. 

And  kept  no  pausing  limiis  to  tontend; 
One  tongue  was  echo  to  the  other's  sound, 
Which  breathed  accents  between  niouih  and  ground. 

He  which  hath  virtue's  arms  upon  his  shield,       14 
Draws  his  descent  from  an  eternal  king  : 

He  knows  discretion  can  make  folly  yield, 
Life  conquer  death,  and  vice  a  captive  bring; 

The  other,  tuior'd  by  his  mother  sin. 

Respects  not  deeds  nor  words,  but  hopes  to  wio. 

The  Brst,  first  essence  of  immortal  life,  15 

Reproves  the  heart  of  thought,  the  eye  of  sight, 

The  ear  of  hearing  ill,  the  mind  of  strife. 
The  mouth  of  speech,  the  body  of  despite  ; 

Heart  thinks,  eyes  see,  ears  liear."  minds  meditate, 

Moutb  utters  both  the  soul  and  body's  hate. 


THE  WISDOU  OF  SOLOMON  PARAPHRASED.       S40 

But  nature,  difiering  in  each  nature's  kind, 

Makes  differing  hearts,  each  heart  a  differing 
thought ; 

Some  hatli  she  made  to  see,  some  folly-blind. 
Some  famous,  some  obscure,  some  good,  some 

So  these,  which  differ"  in  each  nature's  reason, 
Had  nature's  time  when  time  was  out  of  season. 

Quoth  they,  he  doth  reprove  our  heart  of  thinking. 
Our  eyes  of  sight,  our  ears  of  hearing  ill,  16 

Our  minds,  our  hearts,  in  meditation  linking, 
Our  mouths  in  speaking  of  our  body's  will ; 

Because  heart,  sight,  and  mind  do  disagree, 

He'd  make  heart,  sight,  and  mind  of  their  decree. 

He  says,  our  heart  is  blinded  with  our  eyes, 
Oitr  eyes  are  blinded  with  our  blinded  heart. 

Our  bodies  on  both  parts  defiled  lies. 

Our  mouths  the  trumpets  of  our  vices'  smart; 

Quoih  he,  God  is  my  father,  I  his  son, 

His  ways  I  take,  your  wicked  ways  1  shun. 

As  meditated  wrongs  are  deeper  plac'd  17 

Within  the  deep  core"  of  a  wronged  mind. 

So  meditated  words  areP  never  past 

Before  their  sounds  a  settled  harbour  find  ; 

The  wicked,  answering  to  the  latter  words. 

Begin*!  to  speak  as  much  as  speech  affords. 

One  tongue  must  answer,  other  tongues  reply. 
Beginning  boasts  require  an  ending  fall; 

Words  lively  spoke  do  sometimes  wordless  die. 
If  not,  live  echoes  unto  speeches  call : 

Let  not  the  shadow  smother  up  ihc  deed. 

The  outward  leaf  differs  from  inward  seed. 


350       THE  W15D0H  OF  SOLOHON  PASAFHHASED. 

The  shape  and  show  of  substance  and  effect  18 

Do"  shape  the  substance  in  the  shadow's  hue, 

And  shadow  put  in  substance  will  neglect 
The  wonted  shadow  of  not  being  true: 

Let  substance  follow  substance,  show  a  show. 

And  let  not  substance  for  the  shadow  go. 

He  that  could  give  such  admonition, 

Such  vaunting    words,   such    words   confirming 

As  if  his  tongue  had  mounted  to  ambition, 

Or  climb'd  the  turrets  which  vain-glory  haunts. 
Now  let  his  father,  if  he  be  his  son. 
Undo  the  knot  which  bis  proud  boasts  have  spun. 

We  are  his  cnemieE,  his  chain  our  hands,  19 

Our  words  his  fetters,  and  our  heart  his  cave, 
Our  stern  einbracements  are  his  servile  hands  ; 

Where  is  the  helper  now  which  he  should  have' 
In  prison  like  himself,  not  to  be  found. 
He  wanieth  help  himself  to  be  unbound. 
Then  sithP  thy  father  bears  it  patiently. 

To  Buffer  torments,  grief,  rebuke,  and  blame, 
'Tis  needful  thou  should'st  bear  equality, 

To  see  if  meekness  harbour  in  thy  name; 
Help,  father,  for  thy  son  in  prison  lies! 
Help,  son,  or  else  ihy  helpless  father  dies  ! 

Thus  is  the  righteous  God  and  righteous  man      SO 
Drown'd  in  oblivion  with  this  vice's  reign; 

God  wanteth  power  (say  they)  of  what  we  can. 
The  other  would  perform  that  which  is  vain; 

Both  faulty  in  one  fault,  and  both  alike 

Must  have  the  stroke  which  our  law's  judgmmii 

"  Do]  Old  ed.  "  Doih."  '  liih]  i.  e.  since. 


I 


I 
I 


THE  WISDOM  OF  SOLOMON  PAHAFHRASEIJ.       351 

He  calls  himself  a  son  from  heaven's  descent ; 

What  can  earth's    force   avail   "gainst   heaven's 
defence  ? 
His  life  by  immortality  is  lent ; 

Then  how  can  punishment  his  vtrath  incense? 
Though  death  herself  in  hia  arraignment  deck, 
He  hath  bis  life's  preserver  at  a  beck. 


As  doth  the  basilisk  with  poison'd  sight  21 

Blind  every  function  of  a  mortal  eye, 

Disarm  the  body's  powers  of  vital  might, 
Rob  heart  of  thought,  make  living  life  to  die, 

So  do°  the  wicked  with  their  vice's  look 

Infect  the  spring  of  clearest  virtue's  brook. 

This  basilisk,  mortality's  chief  foe. 

And  to  the  heart's  long-knitted  artery. 

Doth  sometime  perish  st  her  shadow's  show, 
Poisoning  herself  with  her  own  poison'd  eye : 

Needs  must  the  sting  fall  out  with  over-harming, 

Needs  must  the  tongue  burn  out  in  over-warming. 

So  fares  it  with  the  practisers  of  vice,  22 

Laden  with  many  venomous  adders'  stings. 

Sometimes  are  blinded  with  their  own  device, 
Andlune"  that  song  which  their  destruction  sings; 

Their  mischief  blindeth  their  mischievous  eyes. 

Like  basilisks,  which  in  their  shadow  dies. 

They  go,  and  yet  they  cannot  see  their  feet. 
Like  blinded  pilgrims  in  an  unknown  way. 

Blind  in  perceiving  things  which  be  most  meet. 
But  need  nor  sight  nor  guide  to  go  astray : 

Tell  them  of  good,  they  cannot  understand  ; 

But  tell  them  of  a  mischief,  that's  at  hand. 

°  rfo]  Old  eJ.  "  doth."  »  la«e]  Old  ed.  "  lunft." 


3SZ      THE  iriBtWU  OF 


PAKAFKRASED. 


Tlie  basilisk  was  made  lo  blind  the  sight, 
Tlie  adtler  for  to  sting,  the  worm  to  creep. 

The  viper  (o  devour,  die  dog  lo  bile. 

The  nightingale  to  waky  when  others  sleep; 

Only  man  difiers  from  his  Maker's  will. 

Undoing  what  is  good,  aad  doing  ill. 

A  godlike  face  he  had,  a  heavenly  hue. 
Without  corruption,  image  without  sp 

But  now  is  metamorphosed  anew. 

Full  of  corruption,  image  full  of  biota  ; 

Blotted  by  him  that  is  tlic  plot"  of  evil. 

Undone,  corrupted,  vanquish'd  by  the  devil. 


BpoU; 


But  every  cloud  cannot  hide  Phorbus*  face, 
Not  shut  the  casement  of  his  living  flame; 

Nor  is  there  every  soul  which  wanteth  grace, 
Nor  every  heart  seduc'd  with  mischief's  namer] 

Life  cannot  live  without  corruption, 

World  cannot  be  without  destruction. 

Nor  is  the  body  all  corrupt,  or  world 
Bent  wholly  unto  wickedness'  assault; 

The  adder  is  not  always  seen  uncutl'd. 
Nor  every  soul  found  guilty  in  one  fault ; 

Some  good,  some  bad ;  but  those  whom  virtues  guu 

Heaven  is  their  haven,  comfort  their  reward. 

Thrice-happy  habitation  of  delight, 

Thrice-liappy  step  of  immortality. 
Thrice-happy  souls  to  gain  such  heavenly  sight. 

Springing  from  heaven's  perpetuity  ! 
O  peaceful  place  !  but  O  thrice- peaceful  souls. 
Whom  neither  threats  nor  strife  nor  wars  control^ 
*  jiJof]  i.  e.  scheme,  form, — piitern. 


THE  WISDOU  OF  SOUtUOS  PARArHRABES.       353 

They  are  not  like  the  wicked,  for  they  live  ; 

Nor  they  like  lo  ilic  rigliceous,  for  they  die; 
Each  of  their  lives  a  differing  nature  give  : 

One  thinks  that  life  ends  with  mortality, 
And  that  the  righteous  never  live  again, 
But  die  OB  subjects  to  a  grievous  pain. 

What  lahouring  soul  refuseth  for  to  sweat. 
Knowing  his  hire,  his  payment,  his  reward, 

To  suffer  winter's  cold  and  Eummer'a  heat. 
Assured  of  his  labour's  due  regard  ? 

The  bee  with  Hummer's  toil  will  lade  her  hive, 

In  winter's  frosi  to  keep  herself  alive. 

And  what  divinest  spirit  would  not  toil. 
And  suffer  many  torments,  many  pains. 

This  world's  destruction,  heavy  labour's  foil, 

When  heaven  is  their  hire,  heaven's  joy  their 
gains? 

Who  would  not  sufTer  torments  for  to  die, 

When  death's  reward  is  immortality  ? 

Pain  is  the  entrance  to  eternal  joy  ;  5 

Death  endeib  life,  and  death  beginneth  life, 

Beginneth  happy,  cndeth  in  annoy. 

Begins  immortal  peace,  ends  mortal  strife ; 

Then,  seeing  death  and  pains  bring  joy  and  heaven, 

What  need  we  fear  death's  pain,  when  life  is  given  ? 

Say  sickness,  or  infirmity's  disease 

(As  many  harms  hang  over  mortal  heads). 

Should  be  his  world's  reward ;  yet  heaven  hath  ease, 
A  salve  to  cure,  and  quiet  resting  beds: 

God  makelh  in  earth's  world  lament  our  pleasure. 

That    in    heaven's    world    delight   might  be    our 
treasure. 


354       TUB  WISDOM  or  SOLOUOK  PARAFHkAVl 

Fair  may  ihe  shadow  W,  ihe  substance  foul ; 

After  tlie  trial  followetli  the  irust ; 
Tlie  clearest  skin  may  have  tlic  foulest  soul ; 

Tlie  purest  gold  will  sooner  take  the  rusl; 
The  brook,  though  ne'ersoclear,  may  take  some 
The  hart,  though  ne'er  so  strong,  may  take  some 

Woulilst  thou  be  counted  just?  make  thyself  jm 
Or  purify  ihy  mire-bespolted  heart  ; 

For  God  doth  try  thy  actions  ere  he  Irus 

Thy  faith,  thy  deeds,  thy  words,  and  what  thou 
art; 

He  will  receive  no  mud  for  clearest  springs. 

Nor  thy  unrighteous  words  for  righteous  things. 

Aa  God  is  perfect  God  and  perfect  good,  7 

So  he  accepieth  none  but  perfect  minds; 

They  ever  prosper,  flourish,  live,  and  bud, 

Like  blessM  plants,  far  from  destruction's  winds; 

Still  bud,  ne'er  fade,  still  flourish,  ne'er  decay; 

Still  rise,  ne'er  fall,  still  spring,  ne'er  fade  away. 

Who  would  not  covet  to  be  such  a  plant, 

Who  would  not  wish  to  stand  in  such  a  ground, 

Sith"  it  doth  neither  fruit  nor  blessing  want. 

Nor  aught  which  in  this  plant  might  not  be  found? 

They  are  the  righteous  which  enjoy  this  earth. 

The  figure  of  an  ever-bearing  birth. 

The  small  is  always  subject  to  the  great,  S 

The  young  to  him  which  is  of  elder  time. 

The  lowest  place  unto  the  highest  seat. 

And  pale-fac'd  Phffibe  to  bright  Phccbus'  clune  ; 

Vice  is  not  governor  of  virtue's  place, 

Rat  blushes  for  to  see  so  bright  a  face. 
"  Sllh}  i.  e.  Since. 


THE  WiaDOM  OF  50L0U0N  PABAFHEASED.       3SS 

Virtue  is  chief,  and  virtue  will  be  chief, 

Chief  good,  and  chief  Astrsa,  justice'  mate, 

Both  for  to  punish  and  to  yield  relief. 
And  have  dominion  over  every  state. 

To  right  the  wrongs  which  wickedness  hath  done, 

Delivering  nations  from  life-lasting  moan. 

O  you,  whose  causes  plungeih  in  despair,  9 

Sad'fac'd  petitioners  with  grief's  request ! 

What  seek  you?  here's  nor  justice  nor  her  heir, 
Biii  woe  and  sorrow,  with  deatii's  dumb  arrest ; 

Turn  up  your  woe-blind  eyes  unto  the  sky. 

There  sits  the  judge  can  yield  you  remedy. 

Trust  in  his  power,  he  ie  the  truest  God, 

True  God,  true  judge,  true  justice,  and  true  guide ; 

All  truth  is  placed  in  his  truth's  abode, 
Alt  virtues  seated  at  his  virtuous  side  ; 

He  will  regard  your  suit,  and  ease  your  plaint, 

And  mollify  your  misery's  constraint. 

Then  shall  you  see  the  judges  of  the  earth  10 

Summoned  with  the  trumpet  of  his  ire, 

To  give  account  and  reckoning  from  their  birth, 
Where"  worthy  or  unworthy  of  their  hire: 

The  godly  shall  receive  their  labour's  trial. 

The  wicked  shall  receive  their  joy's  denial. 

They  which  did  sleep  in  sin,  and  not  regarded 
The  poor  man's  fortune  prostrate  at  their  feet. 

Even  as  they  dealt,  so  shall  they  be  rewarded. 
When  they  their  toiled  souls'  destruction  meet  j 

From  judges  they  petitioners  shall  be. 

Yet  want  the  sight  which  they  do  sue  to  see. 


Why  tct  I  Bippukcsi  vof^  noftv  ryt9f 
Wbidi  caTet*  to  be  dr«ach'd  in  misery, 
'    *'  ')  nuods  in  follj'a  gvitf 
■  perpetvtty ! 
£(■*■  hbovr,  felly's  bone,  and  rice's  merit, 

e  in  ooe  nake  a  [hrice-eunM  •phrit. 


TbcK  lime  it 


Vain  hope  moit  needs  caoaitt  in  whu  i*  Tain ; 
All  foolish  labours  flowP  from  folly's  tMra; 

UnproGtabk  works  proceed  from  pain, 
)       And  pain  ill  laboor's  dnest  gneidoo  besn ; 
■  Tliree*  vanities  in  one,  and  one  in  tbn^ 
■Wake  three  paios  one,  and  one  onecrtaiaty. 

A  K-jcked  king  makes  a  more  wicked  land; 

Heads  once  infected  soon  corrupt'  the  feet;,! 
If  the  tree. falls,  the  branches  cannot  stand, 

Nor  children,  be  their  parents  indiscreet  [ 
The  man  infects  the  wife,  the  wife  the  child. 
Like  birds  which  in  one  nest  be  all  defil'd. 

The  field  which  never  was  ordain'd  (o  hear 
Is  happier  fur  than  a  still-tilled  ground ; 

This  sleeps  with  quietness  in  every  year, 
The  other  curs'd  if  any  tares  be  found  ; 

The  barren  happier  than  she  that  bears, 

This  brings  forth  joy,  the  other  lares  and  tears. 


THE  WIBDOU  OF  SOLOUON  PABAPHBAGED.       S57 


The  eunuch  never  lay  in  vice's  bed,  14 

The  barren  woman  never  brought  forth  sin  ; 

These  two  in  heaven's  happiness  are  led, 
She  fruit  in  soul,  he  fruit  in  faith  doih  win: 

0  rate  and  happy  man,  for  ever  blest ! 

O  rare  and  happy  woman,  heaven's  guest  1 

Who  seeks  to  reap  before  the  corn  be  ripe?  15 

Who  looks  for  harvest  among  winter's  frost? 

Or  who  in  grief  will  follow  pleasure's  pipe  ? 
What  mariner  can  sail  upon  the  coast  i 

That  which  is  done  in  time  is  done  in  season. 

And  things  done  out  of  time  are'  out  of  reason. 

The  glorious  labour  is  in  doing  good, 

In  time's  observance,  and  in  nature's  will, 

Whose  fruit  is  also  glorious  for  our  food. 
If  glory  may  consist  in  labour's  skill. 

Whose  root  is  wisdom,  which  shall  never  wither, 

But  spring,  and  sprout,  and  love,  and  live  together. 

But  every  ground  doth  not  bear  blessed  plants,  16 
Nor  every  plant  brings  forth  expected  fruit ; 

What  this  same  ground  may  have,  another  wants ; 
Nor  are  all  causes  onswer'd  with  one  suit : 

That  tree  whose  root  is  sound,  whose  grounding 

May  firmly  stand  when  others  lie  along. 

View  nature's  beauty,  mark  her  changing  hue,        . 

She  is  not  always  foul,  not  always  fair. 
Chaste  and  unchaste  she  is,  true  and  untrue. 

And  some  spring*  from  her  in  a  lustful  air ; 
And  these  adulterers  be,  whose  seed  shall  perish ; 
Never  shall  lust  and  wickedness  long  flourish. 


re]  Old  «i 


-in;  ]  Old  ed.  "  ipriags." 


in 

Thm  untf}  many  happineas  u  lent. 

And  long- lie  par  tea  joy  might  tben  b«  rife  :' 
Home  tiappy  iftliey  live,  soine  if  they  dte, 
Hnppy  in  life,  happy  in  tragedy. 


ff]OIJ«i].  •Mlutfc" 


'  'l/iJ  i- 


I,  prtvalen 


I 


FAKAFBRASED.        359 

Content  is  happiness  because  content ; 

Bareness  nnd  barrenness  nre'  virtue's  grace, 
Bare  because  wealth  to  poverty  is  bent. 

Barren  in  that  it  scorns  ill-Fortune's  place; 
Tiie  barren  earth  is  barren  of  her  tares, 
The  barren  woman  barren  of  her  cares. 

The  soul  of  virtue  is  eternity,  3 

All- suing  essence  of  divineat  rage; 
And  virtue's  true  eternal  memory 

Is  barrenness,  her  soul's  eternal  gage; 
O  happy  soul,  that  is  engaged  there. 
And  panns  his  life  that  barren  badge  to  wear! 

See  how  the  multitude,  with  humble  hearts. 
Lies  prostrate  for  to  welcome  her  return  ! 

See  how  they  mourn  and  wail  when  she  departs ! 
See   how    they   make   their  tears   her   trophy's 


As  every  one  hath  not  one  nature's  mould,  3 

So  every  one  hath  not  one  nature's  mind  ; 

Some  think  that  dross  which  others  take  for  gold, 
Each  difference  comeih  from  a  differing  kind  ; 

Some  do  despise  what  others  do  embrace, 

Some  praise  the  thing  which  others  do  disgrace. 

The  barren  doth  embrace  their  barrenness. 
And  hold  it  as  a  virtue-worthy  meed  ; 

The  other  calls  conception  happiness, 
And  hold  it  as  a  virtue-worthy  deed  ; 

The  one  is  firmly  grounded  on  a  rock, 

The  other  billows'  game  and  tempests'  mock. 

■  on]  Old  ed.  "  U." 


360      THE  WISDOM  OF  (OLOUOK  PAKAPHKASBD. 

Someiimi?  the  nettle  groweth  witli  ihe  row  ;  4 

The  nettle  haili  a  sting,  the  rose  a  thorn  ; 

This  stings  the  hand,  the  other  pricks  the  nose, 
Herming  that  scent  which  her  sweet  birth  hnil 

Weeds  among  herbs,  herbs  among  needs  are  found, 
Tares  in  the  mantle  of  a  corny  ground. 

The  nettle's  growth  is  fast,  the  rose's  slow. 

The  weeds  outgrow  the  herbs,  the  tares  the  cortt; 

These  ma^  be  well  compar'd  to  vice's  show. 
Which  covets  for  to  grow  ere  it  be  born: 

As  greatest  danger  doth  pursue  fast  goingi 

So  greatest  danger  doth  ensue  fast  growing. 

The  tallest  cedar  hath  the  greatest  wind,  S 

The  highest  tree  is  subject  unto  falls  ; 
High-soaring  eagles  soon  are  strucken  blind  ; 

The  tongue  must  needs  behoarse  with  many  calls  : 
The  wicked,  thinking  for  to  touch  the  sky, 
Are  blasted  with  the  fire  of  heaven's  eye- 
So  like  ascending  and  descending  air, 

Both  dusky  vapours  from  two  humorous  clouds. 
Lies  wiiherM  the  glory  of  their  fair;" 

Unpleasant  branches  wreneh'd  in  folly's  floods  ; 
Unprofitable  fruits,  like  to  a  weed, 
Made  only  to  infect,  and  not  to  feed. 

Made  for  to  make  a  fast,  and  not  a  feast,  fl 

Made  rather  for  infection  than  for  meat. 

Not  worthy  to  be  eaten  of  a  hcast, 

Thy  taste  so  sour,  thy  poison  is  so  great ; 

Thou  may'st  be  well  compared  to  a  tree. 

Because  thy  branches  are  as  ill  as  thee. 
*/ai>]  >.  e.  tairncM.  beauty,   Tlie  word  una  formerly  in  com- 


TUB  WISDOU  OF  EOLOUOK  PARAPHRASED.       3C1 


Thou  hast  begot  thine  own  confusion, 
The  witnesses  afwliat  thou  dost  begin, 

Thy  dooniers  in  thy  life's  conclusion. 

Which  nil],  unask'd  and  ask'd,  reveal  thy  sin : 

Needs  must  the  new-hatch'd  birds  bewray  the  nest. 

When  they  are  nursed  in  a  step-dame's  breast. 

But  righteousness  is  of  another  sex,  7 

Her  root  is  from  an  everlasting  seed. 

No  neak,  unable  grounding  doth  connex 
Her  never-limited  memorial's  deed  ; 

She  haih  no  branches  for  a  tempest's  prey, 

No  deeds  but  scorns  to  yield  unto  decay. 

She  hath  no  wither'd  fruit,  no  show  of  store, 
But  perfect  essence  of  a  complete  power ; 

Say  that  she  dies  to  world,  she  lives  the  more. 
As  who  so  righteous  but  doth  wait  death's  hour  ? 

Who  knows  not  death  to  be  the  way  to  rest? 

And  he  that  never  dies  is  never  blest. 

Happy  is  he  that  lives,  twice  he  that  dies,  H 

Thrice  happy  he  which  neither  liv'd  nor  died. 

Which  never  saw  the  earth  with  mortal  eyes, 
Which  never  knew  what  miseries  are  tried: 

Happy  is  life,  twice  happy  is  our  death. 

But  three  times  thrice  he  which  had  never  breath. 

Some  think*  that  pleasure  is  achiev'd  by  years. 
Or  by  maintaining  of  a  wretched  life. 

When,  out,  alas  !  it  heapeth  tears  on  tears. 
Grief  upon  grief,  strife  on  beginning  strife  : 

Pleasure  is  weak,  if  measured  by  length  ; 

The  oldest  ages  have>  the  weaker  strength. 

*  Mint]  Old  ed.  ■'  iliinJte»."  '  Iiavf]  Old  ed.  "  hith," 


302       THE  WISDOM  OF  SOLOHOK  PABAPMB  tSES. 

Three  turnings  are  conlain'J  in  mortal  course,  9 
Old,  mean,  and  young  j  mean  and  old  bring'  age ; 

The  youth  hath  strength,  tlie  mean  decaying  force. 
The  old  arc  weak,  yet  strong  in  anger's  rage  : 

Three  turnings  in  one  age,  strong,  weak,  and  weaker, 

Yet  age  nor  youth  is  youth's  or  age's  breaker. 

Some  say''  that  youth  is  quick  in  judging  causes. 
Some  say'  that  age  is  witty,  grave,  and  wise  : 

1  hold  of  age's  side,  with  their  applauses, 

Whichjudgcs  with  their  hearts,  not  with  their  eyes; 

I  say  grave  wisdom  lies  in  grayest  heads. 

And  undetil^d  lives  in  age's  beds, 

God  is  both  grave  and  old,  yet  young  and  new,    10 

Grave  because  aged,  aged  because  young; 
I/ong  youth  may  well  be  called  age's  hue, 
And  hath  no  differing  sound  upon  the  tonj 
r  Go<l  old,  because 
I  Young,  foi 

Some  in  their  birth,  some  die*  when  they  are 
Some  horn,  and  some  abortive,  yet  alt  di 

Some  in  their  youth,  some  in  old  age  forlorn, 
Some  neither  young  nor  old,  but  equally 

The  righteous,  when  he  liveth  with  the  sinner. 

Doth  hope  for  death,  his  better  life's  beginner. 

The  swine  delights  to  wallow  in  the  mire. 

The  giddy  drunkard  in  excess  of  wine  ; 

He  may  corrupt  the  purest  reason's  gyre. 

And  she  turn  virtue  into  vice's  sign  : 
Mischief  is  mire,  and  may  infect  thai  spring 
Which  every  flow  and  ebb  of  vice  doth  bring. 
■  bring]  OIJ  ed.  "  brings."  '  tat]  Old  cd.  "  ca) 

'  dit]  Old  ed.  "  did." 


■e  bom,      m 


THS  WfaSOM  0¥  SOLOMON  FARAPHRASED.       363 


Fislies  are  oft  deceived  by  the  bait, 
The  bait  deceiving  fisb  doth  fish  deceive; 

So  righteous  are  allur'd  by  sin's  deceit, 
And  oft  enticed  into  sinners'  weave  : 

The  rigliteoua  be  as  fishes  to  their  gin, 

Beguil'd,  deceiv'd,  allured  into  sin. 

The  fisher  hath  a  bait  deceiving  fish, 
The  fowler  hath  a  net  deceiving  fowls ; 

Both  nislieth  to  obtain  their  snaring  wish. 
Observing  time,  like  night-observing  owls; 

The  iisher  lays  his  bait,  fowler  his  net. 

He  hopes  for  fish,  the  other  birds  to  get. 

This  iisher  is  the  wicked,  vice  his  bait, 
This  fowler  is  the  sinner,  sin  his  net; 

The  simple  righteous  falls  in  their  deceit. 
And  like  a  prey,  a  fish,  a  fowl  beset: 

A  bait,  a  net,  obscuring  what  is  good, 

Like  fish  and  fowl  took  up  for  vice's  food. 

But  baits  nor  nets,  gins  nor  beguiling  snares,        13 
Vice  nor  the  vicious  sinner,  nor  the  sin, 

Can  shut  the  righteous  into  prison's  cares. 
Or  set  deceiving  baits  to  mew  them  in ; 

They  know  their  life's  deliverer,  heaven's  God, 

Can  break    their   baits   and   snares   with  justice' 

When  vice  abounds  on  earth,  and  earth  in  vice,    14 
When  virtue  keeps  her  chamber  in  the  sky. 

To  shun  the  mischief  which  her  baits  entice. 
Her  snares,  her  nets,  her  guiles,  her  company ; 

As  soon  as  mischief  reigns  upon  the  earth. 

Heaven  calls  the  righteous  to  a  better  birtli. 


364       TUB  WISDOM  OF  SOLOUOt)  FABAFHBASED. 

The  blinded  eyes  can  never  see  the  way,  la 

The  blinded  heart  can  never  see  to  see. 

The  blinded  soul  doih  always  go  astray  ; 

All  three  want  sight,  in  being  blind  all  three : 

Blind  and  yet  see,  they  see  and  yet  are  blind, 

The  face  hath  eyes,  but  eyeless  is  the  mind. 

They   see    with    outward    sight  God's    heavenly 
grace. 

His  grace,  his  love,  his  mercy  on  his  saints  ; 
With  outward-faced  eye  and  eyed  face, 

Their  outward  body  inward  soul  depaints : 
Of  heart's  chief  eye  they  chiefly  are  bereft. 
And  yet  the  shadow[a]  of  two  eyes  are  left. 

Some  blinded  be  in  face,  and  some  in  soul ;  16 

The  face's  eyes  are  not  incurable; 
The  other  wanteth  healing  to  be  whole. 

Or  seems  to  some  to  be  endurable ; 
Look  in  a  blinded  eye,  bright  is  the  glass. 
Though  brightness  banished  from  what  it  was. 


So,  quoth  the  righteous,  are  these  blinded  hearts ; 

The  outward  glass  is  clear,  the  substance  dark,  I 

Both  seem  as  if  one  took  the  other's  parts, 

Yet  both  in  one  have  not  one  hrightoess'  spark 
The  outward  eye  is  but  destruction's  reader. 
Wanting  the  inward  eye  to  be  the  leader. 

Our  body  may  be  call'd  a  commonweal,  1 

Our  head  the  chief,  for  reason  harbours  there. 

From  thence  comes  heart's  and  soul's  united  ze^  : 
All  else  inferiors  be,  which  stand  in  fear : 

This  commonweal,  rul'd  by  discretion's  eye. 

Lives  likewise  if  she  live,  dies  if  she  die. 


THB  WISDOM  OF  50LOUON  PARAFHICA9ED,       361 


Tlien  how  can  weal  or  wenlili,  common  or  proper, 
Long  stand,  long  flow,  long  flourish,  long  remain. 

When  wail  ia  weal's,  and  alealth  is  wealth's  chief 
stopper. 
When  Might  ia  gone,  which  never  comes  again? 

The  wicked  see''  the  righteous  lose  their  breath. 

But  koow  not  what  reward  they  gain  by  death. 

Though  blind  in  sight,  yet  can  they  see  to  harm,  13 
See  to  despise,  see  to  deride  and  mock  ; 

But  their  revenge  lies  in  God's  mighty  arm, 
Scorning  to  choose  them  for  his  chosen  flock  : 

He  is  the  shepherd,  godly  are  his  sheep. 

They  wake  in  joy,  these  in  destrucLion  sleep. 

The  godly  sleep  in  eyes,  but  wake  in  hearts;        19 
The  wicked  sleep  in  hearts,  but  wake  in  eyes : 

These  ever  wake,  eyes  arc  no  sleepy  parts  ; 
These  ever  sleep,  for  sleep  is  heart's  disguise : 

Their  waking  eyes  do  see  their  heart's  lament, 

While  heart  securely  sleeps  in  eyes'  content, 

If  they  awake,  sleep's  image  doth  molest  them,    20 
And  beats  into  their  waking  memories  ; 

If  they  do  sleep,  joy  waking  doth  detest  them, 
Yet  beats  into  dieir  sleeping  arteries  : 

Sleeping  or  waking,  they  have  fear  on  fear, 

Waking  or  sleeping,  they  are  ne'er  the  near.' 

If  waking)  they  remember  what  they  are, 

What  sins  they  have  committed  in  their  waking; 

If  sleeping,  they  forget  tormenting's  fare, 

How  ready  they  have  been  in  mischief's  making  : 

When  they  awake,  their  wickedness  betrays  them  ; 

When  they  do  sleep,  des 


«]  Old  Ed.  ' 


The  &ee,  iMBvkig  her  hexrj  e^cfids  op 
fnm  tarik  Ae  rhwnhw  of  eterml  si^^K, 

See*  TiraH  boU  pttrntft  repIniA'd  rap, 

Asd  boUlj  Uaad*  la  God'a  aad  hemnn'a  B^fati 

She,  opeMg  the  windom  of  her  bieart. 

See*  how  the  wicked  rest  in  their  mreu. 

Quoth  the,  Thote  wham  the  curtani  of  decay  3 

Haih  trsgiotlly  Mmmoaed  to  pjun. 
Were  once  the  clondi  and  ctonden  of  b j  dij, 

Depravers  and  depriverf  of  my  gain. 
The  wicked  hearing  this  descending  sound, 
Fear  struck  their  Umbi  to  the  pale-clothM  ground. 

Amazed  at  tbe  freedom  of  her  words, 

Their  tongue-tied  accent*  drore  them  to  despair, 
And  made  them  cliange  their  minds  to  woe's  records. 

And  say  within  themselves,  ho,  nhat  we  are  I 
We  have  had  virtue  ia  derision's  place. 
And  made  a  parable  of  her  disgrace. 

See  where  she  sits  enthronis'd  in  the  sky! 

See,  sec  her  labour's  crown  upon  her  head ! 
See  how  the  righteous  live,  which  erst  did  die, 

From  death  to  life  with  virtue's  loadstar  led! 
See  those  whom  we  derided,  they  are  blest, 
They  heaven's,  not  hell's,  we  hell's,  not  heaven's 

■  tfoHif]  Old  ed.  "  itHiidi." 


rda.         i 


THE  WISDOM  OF  80LDUON 


367 


We  thouglit  the  righteous  had  been  fury's  sod, 
With  inconsiJerate  speech,  unstayed  way  ; 

We  thought  that  death  had  his  dishonour  won, 
And  would  have  made  his  life  destruction's  prey  : 

But  we  were  mad,  ihey  just ;  we  fools,  they  wise ; 

We  shame,  they  praise  ;  we  loss,  they  have  [he  prize. 

We  thought  them  fools,  when  we  ourselves  were 
fools ;  5 

Wethoughtthenimad,whenweourBe)veBweretnad; 
The  heat  which  sprang  from  them,  our  folly  cools ; 

We  find  in  us  which  we  but  thought  they  had: 
We  thought  their  end  had  been  dishonour's  pledge; 
They  but  survey'd  the  place,  we  made  the  hedge. 

We  see  how  they  are  blest,  how  we  arc  curat ; 

How  they  accepted  are,  and  we  refus'd  ; 
And  how  our  bands  are  tied,  their  bands  are  burst ; 

Our  faults  are  hourly  blam'd,  their  faults  excua'd  j 
See  how  heavens  gratulate  their  welcom'd  sight, 
Which  come  ■  to  lake  possession  of  their  right ! 

But  O  too  late  we  see  our  wickedness,  6 

Too  late  we  lie  in  a  repentant  tomb, 
Too  late  we  smooth  old  hairs  with  happiness, 

Too  late  we  seek  to  ease  our  bodies'  doom  ! 
Now  falsehood  hath  advanc'd  her  forged  banner, 
Too  late  we  seem  to  verify  truth's  manner. 

The  sun  of  righteousness,  which  should  have  shin'd. 
And  made  our  hearts  the  cabins  of  his  cast, 

Is  now  made  cloudy  night  through  vice's  wind. 
And  lodgeth  with  his  downfall  in  the  west ; 

Tliat  summer's  day,  which  should  have  been  night's 


Ian 


made  winter  in  her  icy  c 


368       THE  WISDOM  OF  SOLOUOK  tSl 

Too  much  our  feet  have  gone,  but  never  right ;      ' 
Much  labour  we  have  took,  but  none  in  good  ; 

We  wearied  ourselves  with  our  delight, 

Endangering  ourselves  to  please  our  mood  ; 

Our  feet  did  labour  much,  'iwas  for  our  pleasure  ; 

We  ivearied  ourselves,  'twas  for  our  leisure. 

In  sin's  perfeciio 

To  suffer  perils  ■ 
For  the  advan 
Through  many  dangerous  ways  our  feet  have  gone, 
But  yet  the  way  of  God  we  have  not  known. 

We  which  have  made  our  hearts  a  sea  of  pride, 
With  huge  risae-  billows  of  a  swelling  mind, 

With  tossing  tumults  of  a  flowing  tide. 
Leaving  our  laden  bodies  plung'd  behind; 

What  traffic  have  we  got  ?  ourselves  are  drown'j 

Our  souls  in  hell,  our  bodies  in  the  ground. 

Where  are  our  riches  now?  like  us  consumV 

Where  is  our  pomp  ?  decay'd ;   where's  glory  ? 
dead; 

Where  is  the  wealth  of  which  we  all  presum'd  ? 
Where  is  our  profit ?  gone;  ourselves?  misled; 

All  these  are  like  to  shadows  what  they  were; 

There  is  nor  wealth,  nor  pomp,  nor  glory  here. 

The  dial  gives  a  caveat  of  the  hour ;  10 

Thou  canst  not  see  it  go,  yet  it  is  gone  ; 

Like  this  the  dial  of  thy  fortune's  power. 

Which  fades  by  stealth,  till  thou  art  left  alone : 

Thy  eyes  may  well  perceive  thy  goods  are  spent. 

Yet  can  they  not  perceive  which  way  they  went. 


I 


THE  WISDOM  OF  SOLOMON  FARAPHRASED.       369 

Lo,  even  as  ships  sailing  on  Tethya'  lap 

Plough'  up  the  furrows  of  hard-grounded  naves. 

Enforced  for  to  go  by  ^ol's  clap, 

Making  with  sharpest  team  the  water  graves ; 

The  ship  once  past,  the  trace  cannot  be  found. 

Although  she  digged  in  the  water's  ground : 

Or  as  an  eagle,  with  her  soaring  wings,  11 

Scorning  the  dusty  carpet  of  the  earth, 

Exempt  from  all  her  clogging  jesses,''  flings 
tjp  to  the  air,  to  shew  her  mounting  birth; 

And  every  flight  doth  take  a  higher  pitch, 

To  have  the  golden  sun  her  wings  enrich ; 

Yet  none  can  see  the  passage  of  her  flight, 
But  only  hear  her  hovering  in  the  sky. 

Beating  the  light  wind  with  her  being  light, 

Or  parting  through  the  air  where  she  might  fly ; 

The  ear  may  hear,  the  eye  can  never  see 

What  course  she  takes,  or  where  she  means  to  be : 

Or  as  an  arrow  which  is  made  to  go  12 

Through  the  transparent  and  cool-blowing  air. 

Feeding  upon  the  forces  of  the  bow. 

Else  forceless  lies  in  wanting  her  repair  ; 

Like  as  the  branches  when  the  tree  is  lopl, 

Wanteth  the  forces  which  they  forceless  cropt ; 

The  arrow,  being  fed  with  strongest  shot. 
Doth  part  the  lowest  elemental  breath. 

Yet  never  separates  the  sof^  air's  knot. 

Nor  never  wounds  the  still-foot  winds  to  death  ; 

It  doth  sejoin  and  join  the  air  together, 

Yet  none  there  is  can  tell  or  where  or  whither  : 

•  Plough}  Old  ed.  "  Plowaa." 

!■  jeiiei]  I.  c.  the  short  Icallier  (traps  niiiad  the  hawk's 
legi,  having  little  ring)  to  which  the  falcoaer'i  lewb  wms 
nutened. 


370     THE  n 


U  OF  SOLOHOK  rABAFHBASeO. 


So  are  our  lives  ;  now  they  begin,  now  end,  13 

Now  live,  now  die,  now  born,  now  fit  for  grare ; 

As  soon  as  we  have  breath,  lo  soon  we  spend, 
Not  having  that  which  our  content  would  bave ; 

Aa  ships,  as  birds,  as  arrows,  all  as  one. 

Even  BO  the  traces  of  our  lives  are  gone: 

A  thing  not  seen  to  go,  yet  going  seen,  ^H 

And  yet  not  shewing  any  sign  to  go;  ^M 

Even  thus  the  shadows  of  our  lives  have  been,  ^| 
Which  shew*'  to  fade,  and  yet  no  virtues  shew : 

How  can  a  thing  consum'd  with  vice  be  good  ? 

Or  how  can  falsehood  bear  true  virtue's  foodf 

Vain  hope,  to  think  that  wickedness  hath  bearing  14 
When  she  is  drowned  in  oblivion's  sea  ! 

Yet  can  she  not  forget  presumption's  wearing, 
Nor  yet  the  badge  of  vanity's  decay : 

Her  fruits  arc  cares,  her  cares  are  vanities,  ^| 

Two  both  in  one  destruction's  liveries.  ^H 

Vain  hope  is  like  a  vane  turn'd  with  each  wind  ;  ^1 
'Tis  like  a  smoke  scattcr'd  with  every  storm; 

Like  dust,  sometime  before,  sometime  behind  ; 
Like  a  ihin  foam  made  in  the  vainest  form : 

This  hope  is  like  to  them  which  never  slay, 

But  comes  and  goes  again  all  in  one  day. 

View  nature': 

Some  barren  grounds  there 
fruit: 
Nor  hath  all  nothing,  nor  hath  all  her  store ; 

Nor  can  all  creatures  speak,  nor  are  all  mute  ;  I 
All  die  by  nature,  being  born  by  nature ; 
So  all  change  feature,  being  born  with  feature. 

'■  i*(i*]  Old  ed.  "  shewei." 


some   gifls  are  rich,   i 
e  clolb'd  fl 


THE  WISDOM  OF  SOLOUON  PARAPHRASED.       371 

This  life  is  hers ;  this  dead,  dead  is  her  poner, 
Her  bound"  begins  and  ends  in  mortal  slate  i 

Whom  she  on  earth  accounleth  as  her  llower 
May  be  in  heaven  condemn'd  of  mortal  bate; 

But  he  nhom  virtue  judges  for  to  live. 

The  Lord  his  life  and  due  reward  will  give. 

The  servant  of  a  king  may  be  a  king,  16 

And  he  that  was  a  king  a  servile  slave ; 

Swans  before  death  a  funeral  dirge  do  sing, 

And  wave'  their  wings  again"  ill  fortune's  wave: 

He  that  is  lowest  in  this  lowly  earth 

May  be  the  highest  in  celestial  birth. 

The  rich  may  be  unjust  in  being  rich, 
For  riches  do  corrupt  and  not  correct ; 

The  poor  may  come  to  highest  honour's  pitch, 
And  have  heaven's  crown  for  mortal  life's  respect : 

God's  hands  shall  cover  them  from  all  their  foes, 

God's  arm  defend  them  from  misfortune's  blows : 

His  hand  eternity,  his  arm  his  force,  17,  18 

His  armour  zealousy,  his  breast-plate  heaven. 
His  helmet  Judgment,  Justice,  and  remorse,* 

His  shield  is  victory's  immortal  steven;' 
The  world  his  challenge,  and  his  wrath  his  sword, 
Mischief  hia  foe,  his  aid  his  gospel's  word  ; 
His  arm  doth  overthrow  his  enemy,  19,  20 

His  breast-plate  sin,  his  helmet  death  and  hell, 
His  shield  prepar'd  against  mortality, 

His  sword  'gainst  them  which  in  the  world  do 
dwell : 
So  shall  vice,  sin,  and  death,  world  and  the  devil, 
Be  slain  by  him  which  slayeth  every  evil, 

'■  to««d]  0}<1  ed.  "  bounds." 

■  warn]  Old  ed.  "  waves."  '  i^oJn]  i,  e.  against. 

■  ritHoric]  i.  e.  pity.  '  j'rccn]  i.  e.  voLce,  aouiid. 


373        TBE   WIBDOU  O?  SOLOUOK 

All  heaven  sliall  be  in  arms  against  eat  ill's  world  ;  21 
Tlie  sun  aliall  dart  forth  fire  conirnix'd  with  blood. 

The  btaiing  stais  from  heaven  shall  be  hurl'd. 
The  pale-fac'd  moon  against  the  oeean-flood  ; 

Then  shall  the  thundering  chambers'  of  the  aky 

Be  lighten 'd  with  the  blaze  of  Titan's  eye. 

The  clouds  shall  then  be  bent  like  bended  bona. 
To  shoot  the  thundering  arrows  of  the  air  ; 

Thick  hail  and  sioneit  shall  fall  on  heaven's  foeSj_ 
And  Teihya  overflow  in  her  despair; 

The  moon  shall  overfill  her  horny  hood 

With  Neptune's  ocean's  overflowing  flood. 

The  wind  shall  be  no  longer  kept  in  caves, 
But  burst  the  iron  cages  of  the  clouds; 

And  £ol  shall  resign  his  office-staves. 

Suffering  the  winds  to  combat  with  the  floods : 

So  shall  the  earth  with  scQs  be  pal^d  in, 

As  erst  it  hath  been  overflon'd  with  sin. 

Thus  shall  the  earth  weep  for  her  wicked  sona. 
And  curse  the  concave  of  her  tirM  womb. 

Into  whose  hollow  mouth  the  water  runs, 
Making  wet  wilderness  her  driest  tomb ; 

Thus,  thus  iniquity  hath  reign'd  so  long, 

That  earth  on  earth  is  punish'd  for  her  wrong. 

Cu*r.  VI. 
After  this  conflict  between  God  and  man,  1 

Remorse  <  took  harbour  in  God's  angry  breaM; 
Astrcea  to  be  pitiful  began. 

All  heavenly  powers  to  lie  in  mercy's  rest ; 
Forthwith  the  voice  of  God  did  redescend, 
And  his  Asiriea  warn'd  all  lo  amend. 


I 


THE  WtSDOU  OF  SOLOMON  FAEAFHRASED.       373 

To  you  I  speak,  quoth  she ;  hear,  learn,  and  mark,   '2 
You  that  be  kings,  judges,  and  potentates, 

Give  ear,  I  say;  wisdom,  your  atrongesl  ark, 
Sends  me  as  messenger  to  end  debates  ; 

Give  ear,  I  say,  you  judges  of  the  earth, 

Wisdom  is  born,  seek  out  for  wisdom's  birth. 

This  heavenly  embassage  from  wisdom's  tongue,    3 
Worthy  the  volume  of  all  heaven's  sky, 

I  bring  as  messenger  to  right  your  wrong; 
If  so,  her  sacred  name  might  never  die  : 

I  bring  you  happy  tidings  ;  she  is  born. 

Like  golden  sunbeams  from  a  silver  morn. 

The  Lord  hath  seated  you  in  judgment's  seat. 
Let  wisdom  place  you  in  discretion's  places  ; 

Two  virtues,  one  will  make  one  virtue  great, 
And  draw  more  virtues  with  attractive  faces  ; 

Be  just  and  wise,  for  God  is  just  and  wise ; 

He    thoughts,   he    words,    he    words   and   actions 
tries.  ^ 

If  you  neglect  your  office's  decrees,  4 

Heap  new  lament  on  long-toss'd  miseries. 

Do  and  undo  by  reason  of  degrees, 

And  drown  your  sentences  in  briberies. 

Favour  and  punish,  spare  and  keep  in  awe, 

Set  and  unset,  plant  and  supplant  the  law : 

O  be  assur'd  there  is  a  judge  above,  5 

Which  will  not  let  injustice  flourish  long; 

If  tempt  him,  you  your  own  temptation  move, 
Proceeding  from  the  judgment  of  his  tongue : 

Hard    judgment    shall    he    have    which    jiidgelli 
hard. 

And  he  that  barreth  others  shall  be  barr'd. 


374      THE  WISDOU  OP  SOLDUON  PARAPHKASED. 

For  God  hath  no  respect  of  rich  from  poor,  6 

For  he  hath  made  the  poor  and  made  the  rich  ; 

Their  bodies  be  alike,  though  their  minds  soar. 
Their  difference  nought   but   in   presumptioB'a 
pilch  : 

The  carcass  of  a  king  is  kept  from  fou). 

The  beggar  yet  may  have  the  cleaner  soul. 

The  highest  men  do  bear  the  highest  minds; 

The  cedars  scorn  to  bow,  the  mushrooms  bend  ; 
The  highest  often  superstition  blinds. 

But  yet  their  fall  is  greatest  in  the  end ; 
The  winds  have  not  such  power  of  the  grass. 
Because  it  lowly  stoopeth  wbcnas  ihey  pass. 

The  old  should  teach  the  young  observance'  way,  7 
But  now  the  young  doth  teach  the  elJer  grace; 

The  shrubs  do  teach  the  cedars  to  obey. 

These  yield  to  winds,  but  these  the  winds  oui- 

Yct  he  that  made  the  ninds  to  cease  and  blow. 
Can  make  the  highest  fall,  the  lowest  grow. 

He  made  the  great  to  stoop  as  well  as  small,  6 

The  lions  to  obey  as  other  beasts; 
He  cares  for  all  alike,  yet  cares  for  all, 

And  looks  that  all  should  answer  his  behests ; 
But  yet  the  greater  hath  the  sorer  trial. 
If  once  be  finds  them  with  bis  law's  denial. 

Be  warn'd,  you  tyrants,  at  the  fall  of  pride;  9 

You  see  how  surges  change  to  quiet  calm. 

You  see  both  flow  and  ebb  in  folly's  tide. 
How  fingers  are  infected  by  their  palm  : 

This  may  jour  caveat  be,  you  being  kings. 

Infect  your  subjects,  which  are  lesser  things. 


THE  WISDOM  OF  SOIOMOK 

III  scents  of  vice  once  crept  into  the  head 
Do*  pierce  into  the  chamber  of  the  brain, 

Making  the  outward  skin  disease's  bed, 
The  inward  powers  as  nourishers  of  pain  ; 

So  if  that  mischief  reigns  in  wisdom's  place, 

The  inward  thought  lies  figur'd  in  the  face. 

Wisdom  should  clothe  herself  in  king's  attire,       10 
Being  the  portraiture  of  heaven's  queen; 

fiut  tyrants  are  no  kings,  but  mischiePs  mire, 
Notsage,  but  shows  of  what  they  shouldhave  been; 

They  seek  for  vice,  and  how  to  go  amins, 

But  do  not  once  regard  what  wisdom  is. 

They  which  are  kings  by  name  are  kings  by  deed, 
Both  rulers  of  themselves  and  of  their  land  ; 

They  know  that  heaven  is  virtue's  duest  meed, 
And  holineHs  is  knit  in  holy  band  ; 

These  may  be  rightly  called  by  their  name. 

Whose  words  and  works  are  blaz'd  in  wisdom's  flame. 

To  nurse  up  cruelty  with  mild  aspect,  1 1 

Were  to  begin,  but  never  for  to  end ; 

Kindness  with  tigers  never  takes  effect. 

Nor  proflTer'd  friendship  with  a  foelike  friend: 

Tyrants  and  tigers  have  all  natural  mothers. 

Tyrants  her  sons,  tigers  the  tyrants'  brothers. 

No  words'  delight  can  move  delight  in  them, 
But  rather  plough  the  traces  of  their  ire  ; 

Like  swine,  that  take  the  dirt  before  the  gem, 
And  Bcorn''  that  pearl  which  they  should  most 

fiut  kings  whose  names  proceed  from  kindness'  sound 
Do  plant  their  hearts  and   thoughts  on  wisdom's 
ground. 

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


876       THE  WIEDOU  OF  flOLOUON  PABAFHKASED. 

A  grounding  ever  tnoisl,  and  ne*er  dry,  IS 

An  ever-iruitful  eartli,  no  fruitless  way, 

In  whose  dear  womb  (he  tender  springs  do  lie, 
Which  ever  flow  and  never  ebb'  away; 

The  iun  but  shines  by  day,  she  day  and  night 

Doth  keep  one  stayed  essence  of  her  light. 

Her  beams  are  conducts  to  her  substance'  view,  13 
Her  eye  is  adamant's  attractive  force  ; 

A  shadow  halh  she  none,  but  substance  truci 
Substance  outliving  life  of  mortal  course: 

Her  sight  is  easy  unto  them  which  love  her. 

Her  finding  easy  unto  them  which  prove  )ier. 

The  far-fet"  chastity  of  female  sex  14 

Is  nothing  but  allurement  into  lust, 
Which  will  forswear  and  take,  scorn  and  annex, 

Deny  and  practise  it,  mistrust  and  trust : 
Wisdom  is  chaste,  and  of  another  kind; 
She  loves,  she  likes,  and  yet  not  lustful  blind. 

She  is  true  love,  the  other  love  a  toy ; 

Her  love  bath  eyes,  the  other  love  is  blind ; 
This  doth  proceed  from  God,  this  from  a  boy ; 

This  constant  is,  the  other  vain-combio'd  : 
If  longing  passions  follow  her  desire. 
She  offereth  herself  as  labour's  hire. 

She  is  not  coyish  she,  won  by  delay,  |5 

With  sighs  and  passions,  which  all  lovers  use. 
With  hot  affection,  death,  or  life's  decay. 

With  lovers'  toys,  which  might  their  loves  ex- 
Wisdom  is  poor,  her  dowry  is  content ; 
She  nothing  hath,  because  she  nothing  spent. 


She  is  not  woo'd  to  love,  nor  won  by  wooing: 
Nor  got  by  labour,  nor  possess'd  by  pain ; 

The  gain  of  her  consiats  in  honest  doing  ; 
Her  gain  is  great  in  that  she  hath  no  gain ; 

He  that  betimes  follows  repentance'  way 

Shall  meet  with  her  his  virtue's  worthy  pay. 

To  think  upon  her  is  to  think  of  bliss,  1(> 

The  very  thought  of  her  !s  mischief's  bar, 

Depeller  of  misdeeds  which  do  amiss, 
■The  btot  of  vanity,  misfortune's  scar: 

Who    would    not    think,   to    reap    such    gain    liy 
thought  ? 

Who  would  not  love,  when  such  a  life  is  bought? 

If  thought  be  understanding,  what  is  she! 

The  full  perfection  of  a  perfect  power, 
A  heavenly  branch  from  God's  immortal  tree, 

Which  death,   nor   hell,   nor   mischief  can   de- 

Herself  is  wisdom,  and  her  thought  is  ao  ; 
Thrice  happy  he  which  doth  desire  to  know  ! 

She  man-like  woos,  men  women-like  refuses  ;       17 
She  offers  love,  they  offer'd  love  deny. 

And  hold  her  promises  as  love's  abuses, 
Because  she  pleads  with  an  indifferent  eye  ; 

They  think  that  she  is  light,  vain,  and  unjust, 

When  she  doth  plead  for  love,  and  not  for  lust. 

Hard-hearted  men,  quoth  she,  con  yoii  not  love  f 
Behold  my  substance,  cannot  substance  please? 

Behold  my  feature,  cannot  feature  move  ? 
Can  substance  nor  my  feature  help  or  ease  ? 

See  heaven's  joy  deligur'd  in  my  face. 

Can  neither  heaven  nor  joy  turn  you  to  grace  ? 


ST8      THB  WISDOM  OF 

O,  how  desire  sways  her  pleading  tongue,  18 

Her  tongue  her  heart,  her  heart  her  soul's  afiec- 

Fain  would  she  make  mortality  be  strong, 

But  mortal  weakness  yields  rejection: 
Her  care  la  care  of  them,  they  careless  are  ; 
Her  love  loves  them,  they  neither  love  nor  csre. 

Fain  would  she  make  them  clients  in  her  law,       19 
Whose  law's  assurance  is  immortal  honour; 

But  them  nor  words,  nor  love,  nor  care  can  awe. 
But  still  will  fight  under  destruction's  bouner :'' 

Though  immortality  be  their  reward. 

Yet  neither  words  nor  deeds  will  they  regard. 

Her    tongue   is   hoarse    with   pleading,   yet    doih 
plead,  30 

Pleading  for  that  which  they  should  all  desire  ; 
Their  appetite  is  heavy,  made  of  lead. 

And  lead  can  never  melt  without  a  fire: 
Her  words  are  mild,  and  cannot  raise  a  heat, 
Whilst  they  with  hard  repulse  her  speeches  beat. 

Requested  they,  for  what  they  should  request; 

Entreated  they,  for  what  they  should  entreat ; 
Requested  to  enjoy  their  quiet  rest. 

Entreated  like  a  sullen  bird  to  eat; 
Their  eyes  behold  joy's  maker  which  doth  make  it. 
Yet  must  they  be  entreated  for  to  take  it. 

You  whose  delight  is  plac'd  in  honour's  game,     21 
Whose  game  m  majesty's  imperial  throne. 

Majestic  portraitures  of  earthly  fame, 
Relievers  of  the  poor  in  age's  moan  ; 

If  your  content  be  sealed  on  a  crown, 

Love  wisdom,  and  your  state  shall  never  down, 

"  itmtier]  So  wrilten  Tor  [lie  rhyme. 


\ 


Her  crowns  are  not  as  earthly  diadems, 

t  diapasons  of  eternal  rest; 
Her  essence  comes  not  from  terrestrial  stems, 

But  planted  on  the  heaven's  immortal  breast : 
If  you  delight  in  sceptres  and  in  reigning, 
Delight  in  her,  your  crown's  immortal  gaining. 

Although  the  shadow'  of 

Hath  been  aB  accessary  to  your  eyes. 
Now  will  I  shew  you  the  true  substance'  hue. 

And  what  she  is,  which  without  knowledge  lie 
From  whence  she  is  deriv'd,  whence  her  descent, 
And  whence  the  lineage  of  her  birth  is  lent: 

Now  will  I  shew  the  sky,  and  not  the  cloud ; 

The  sun,  and  not  the  shade  ;  day,  not  the  night ; 
Tethys  herself,  not  Teihys  in  her  flood; 

Light,  and  not  shadow  of  suppressing  light ; 
Wisdom  herself,  true  type  of  wisdom's  grace, 
Shall  be  apparent  before  heart  and  face. 

Had  I  still  fed  you  with  the  shade  of  life,  23 

And  hid  the  sun  itself  in  envy's  air. 
Myself  might  well  be  called  nature's  strife. 

Striving  to  cloud  that  which  all  clouds  impair; 
But  envy,  haste  thee  hence  !  I  loathe  thy  eye, 
Thy  love,  thy  life,  thyself,  thy  company. 


Here  is  the  banner  of  dis 

Advanc'd  on  wisdom's  ever- standing 
Here  ia  no  place  for  envy  or  her  shamt 

For  Nemesis,  or  black  Megaera's  poi 
He  that  is  envious  is  not  wisdom's  friei 
She  ever  lives,  he  dies  when  envies  ent 

'  thadoH-]  Old  «d.  "  fhadowei." 


3SD      THE  WISDOU  OF  SOLOUOM  PAKAFRBASKD. 

Happy,  thrice-happy  land,  where  nisdotn  reigns .'  24 
Happy,  tlirice-happy  king,  whom  wisdom  sways .' 

Where  never  poor  laments,  or  soul™  complains, 
Where  foUy  never  keeps  discretion's  ways  ; 

That  land,  that  king  doth  dourisli,  live,  and  joy. 

Far  from  ill-fortune's  reach  or  sin's  annoy. 

That  land  is  happy,  that  king  fortunate,  2£ 

She  in  her  days,  he  in  his  wisdom's  force ; 

For  fortitude  is  wisdom's  sociale. 

And  wisdom  truest  fortitude's  remorse : 

Be  therefore  rul'd  by  wisdom,  she  is  chief, 

Thai  you  may  rule  in  joy,  and  not  in  grief. 

Chap.  VII. 
What  am  1 7  man ;  0  what  ia  man  ?  O  nought !     1 

What,  am  I  nought?  yes;  what?  sin  and  debate: 
Three  vices  all  in  one,  of  one  life  bought : 

Man  am  I  not;  what  then?  !  am  man's  hate; 
Yes,  man  1  am ;  man,  because  mortal,  dead ; 
Mortality  my  guide,  by  mischief  led. 

Man,  because  like  to  man,  man,  because  boro  ; 

In  birth  no  man,  a  child,  child,  because  weak  ; 
Weak,  because  weaken'd  by  ill-fortune's  acorn  ; 

Scorn'd,  because  mortal,  mortal,  in  wrong's  wreak : 
My  father,  like  myself,  did  live  on  earth  ; 
I,  like  myself  and  him,  follow  his  birth. 

My  mother's  matrice  was  my  body's  maker,  2 

There  had  1  this  same  shape  of  infamies  ; 

Shape?  ah,  no  shape,  but  substance  mischiefs  taker! 
In  ten  months'  fashion;  months?  ah,  mi 

The  sliame  of  shape,  the  very  shape  of  shar 

Calamity  myself,  lament  my  name. 
••  iBul]  Old  ed.  "  louln," 


THE  VISDDH  OF  SOLOUON  PASAFHRASZO.      881 

I  was  conceiv'd  with  seed,  deceiv'd  with  sin ; 

Deceiv'd,  because  my  seed  was  sin's  deceit; 
My  seed  deceit,  because  it  clos'd  me  in, 

Hemtn'd  me  about,  for  sin's  and  mischief's  bait : 
The  seed  of  man  did  brin^  me  into  blood, 
And  now  I  bring  myself,  m  what  ?  no  good. 

MHien  I  was  born,  when  I  was,  then  I  was ;  3 

Born?  when?  yet  born  1  was,  but  now  I  bear, 

Bear  mine  own  vices,  which  my  joys  surpass, 
Bear  mine  own  burden  full  of  mischief's  fear: 

When  I  was  born,  I  did  not  bear  lament ; 

But  now  unborn,  1  bear  what  birth  hath  spent. 

When  I  was  born,  ray  brenth  was  born  to  me. 
The  common  air  which  airs  my  body's  form ; 

Then  fell  1  on  the  earth  with  feeble  knee, 
Lamenting  for  my  life's  ill-fortune's  storm ; 

Making  myself  the  index  of  my  woe, 

Commencing  what  I  could,  ere  I  could  go. 

Fed  was  I  with  lament,  as  well  as  meat ;  4 

My  milk  was  sweet,  but  tears  did  make  it  sour ; 

Meat  and  lament,  milk  and  my  tears  I  eat, 

As  bitter  herbs  commix'd  with  sweetest  Hower  ; 

Care  was  my  swaddling  clothes,  as  welt  as  cloth. 

For  I  was  swaddled™  and  cloth'd  in  both. 

Why  do  I  make  myself  more  than  I  am?  5 

Why  say  1,  I  am  nourished  with  cares. 

When  every  one  is  clothed  with  the  same, 
Sith"  asl  fare  myself,  another  fares? 

No  king  hath  any  other  birth  than  I, 

But  wail'd  his  fortune  with  a  watery  eye. 

~  iaadiikd'\  To  be  pronounced  u  a  iriiyllsbU. 


Saj.wl 


rhM  ii  wee !  as  tMriww  wtio  jmnh ; 
Tint  wUdt  b^iM  with  jojr  ioth  Dot  md  w>. 

^fc***  t9  W  tfc"Mg>i  ttraMic  «  cbsnging  binli : 
Onr  btftfa  ii  as  enr  dtwth,  hodi  barren,  bare  j 
Oar  entrance  wail,  cwr  gocng  ont  wiib  care. 

Naked  we  caioe  into  ibe  world,  u  naked, 
We  bad  DM  wealth  nor  riches  to  poMcaa ; 

Now  dificr  we,  which  difference  ricbea  malted. 
Yet  in  the  end  we  tiafced  oe'enbelesa  ; 

A>  our  b^iuuDg  is,  lo  is  oar  end. 

Naked  aad  poor,  which  needs  ito  wealth  to  » 

T*fat)s  weighing  in  the  balance  of  my  mind 
My  state,  all  itates,  my  birth,  alt  births  alik 

My  meditated  passions  could  not  find 

One  freed  thought  which  sorrow  did  not  strike ; 

But  knowing  every  ill  is  cur'd  by  prayer. 

My  mind  besought  the  Lord,  my  grief's  allayei 

Wherefore  I  pray'd  ;  my  prayer  took  effect. 
And  my  effect  was  good,  my  good  was  gain  fl 

My  gain  was  sacred  wisdom's  bright  aspict, 
And  her  aspect  in  my  respect  did  reign ; 

Wisdom,  that  heavenly  spirit  of  content, 

Was  unto  mc  from  heaven  by  prayer  sent : 

A  present  far  more  worthy  than  a  crown/ 
Because  the  crown  of  an  eternal  rest ; 

A  present  far  more  worthy  than  e  throne, 

Because  the  throne  of  heaven,  which  makea  U 
blest ; 

The  crown  of  bliss,  the  throne  of  God  is  she ; 

Compared  unto  heaven,  not,  earth,  to  thee, 


THE  WISI>OK  OF  SOLOMON  PABAPHHASED. 


Her  footstool  is  thy  face,  her  face  ihy  shame ; 
Thy  shame  her   living   praise,   her   praise    thy 

Thy  scorn  her  love,  her  love  thy  merit's  blame ; 

Thy  blume  her  worth,  her  worth  thy  being  born  r 
Thyself  art  dross  to  her  comparison  ; 
Thy  valour  weak  unto  her  garrison. 

To  liken  gold  unto  her  radiant  face,  9 

Were  likening  day  to  night,  and  night  to  day, 

The  king's  high  seat  to  the  low  subject's  place. 
And  heaven's  translucent  breast  to  earthly  way: 

For  what  is  gold  ?  her  acorn  ;  her  scorn  ?  her  ire  ; 

Melting  that  dross  with  nought  but  anger's  fire. 

In  her  respect  'tis  dust,  in  her  aspects 
Earth,  in  respect  of  her  'tis  little  gravel; 

As  dust,  as  earth,  as  gravel  she  rejects 

The   hope,  the   gain,  the  sight,  the  price,    the 
travel ; 

Silver,  because  inferior  to  the  oiher, 

Is  clay,  which  two  she  in  one  look  doth  smother. 

Her  sight  1  callM  health,  herself  my  beauty  ;       10 
Health  as  my  life,  and  beauty  as  my  light ; 

Each  in  performance  of  the  other's  duty. 
This  curing  grief,  this  leading  me  aright ; 

Two  sovereign  eyes,  belonging  to  two  places. 

This  guides  the  soul,  and  this  the  body  graces. 

The  heart-sick  soul  is  cur'd  by  heart-strong  health, 
The  heart-strong  health  is  the  soul's  brightest  eye, 

The  heart-sick  body  heal'd  by  beauty's  wealth; 
Two  sunny  windolets  of  cither's  sky,    - 

Whose  beams  cannot  be  clouded  by  reproach. 

Nor  yet  dismounted  from  so  bright  a  coach. 


384      TUB  WUDOM  OF  SOLOMON  PARAPinUSBD. 

What  dowry  could  I  wish  more  than  1  have  ?        II 
What  wealth,  what  honoar,  more  than  I  possess  f 

My  soul's  request  is  mine,  which  I  did  crave; 
For  sole  redress  in  soul  I  have  redress : 

The  bodily  expenses  which  I  spend, 

Are""  lent  by  her  which  my  delight  doth  lend. 

Then  !  may  call  her  author  of  my  good, 

Sith"  good  and  goods  are  portions  for  my  love; 

I  love  her  well ;  who  would  not  love  hia  food. 
His  joy's  mainlainer,  which  all  woes  remove? 

I  richest  am,  because  I  Jo  possess  her ; 

I  strongest  am,  in  that  none  can  oppress  her. 

It  made  me  glad  to  think  that  I  was  rich,  IS 

More  gladder  for  to  think  that  I  was  strong ; 

For  lowest  minds  do  covel  highest  pitch, 

As  highest  braves  proceed  from  lowest  tongue  r 

Her  first  arrival  first  did  make  me  glad, 

Yet  ignorant  at  first,  first  made  me  sad. 

Joyful  I  was,  because  I  saw  her  power, 
Woeful  1  was,  because  I  knew  her  not ; 

Glad  that  her  face  was  in  mine  eyes'-lock'd  bower, 
Sad  that  my  senses  never  drew  her  plot: 

I  knew  not  that  she  was  discretion's  mother, 

Though  I  profess'd  myself  to  be  her  brother. 

Like  a  rash  wooer  feeding  on  the  looks,  is 

Disgesting"  beauty,  apparition's  shew. 

Viewing  the  painted  outside  of  the  books. 
And  inward  works  little  regards  to  know  ; 

So  1,  feeding  my  fancies  with  her  sight. 

Forgot  to  make  inquiry  of  her  might. 


External  powers  1  knew,  ricliea  I  had, 
InEernal  powera  1  scarcely  had  discerii'd ; 

Unfeignedly  1  learned  lo  be  glad, 
Feigning  1  hated,  verity  I  learn'd  : 

I  was  not  envioua-learned  to  forsake  her, 

But  I  was  loving'learned  for  lo  take  her. 

And  had  I  not,  my  treasure  had  been  lost,  1^ 

My  loss  my  peril's  hazard  had  proclaim'd, 

My  peril  had  my  life's  destruction  tost. 

My  life's  destruction  at  my  soul  had  aim'd: 

Great  perils  hazarded  from  one  poor  loss, 

As  greatest  filth  doth  come  with  smallest  dross. 

This  righteous  treasure  whoso  rightly  useth, 
Shall  be  an  heir  in  heaven's  eternity; 

All  earthly  fruits  her  heritage  excuseth, 
All  happiness  in  her  felicity  : 

The  love  of  God  consists  in  her  embracing. 

The  gif\s  of  knowledge  in  her  wisdom's  placing. 

I  speak  as  I  am  prompted  by  my  mind,  I- 

My  soul's  chief  agent,  pleader  of  ray  cause ; 

I  speak  these  things,  and  what  I  speak  I  find, 
By    heaven's    judgment,     not    mine    own    ap 
plause: 

God  he  is  judge ;  I  next,  because  I  have  her  ; 

God  he  doth  know  ;  I  next,  because  I  crave  her. 

Should  I  direct,  and  God  subvert  my  tongue, 
I  worthy  were  of  an  unworthy  name, 

Unworthy  of  my  right,  not  of  my  wrong. 
Unworthy  of  my  praise,  not  of  my  shame; 

But  seeing  God  directs  my  tongue  from  missing, 

I  rather  look  for  clapping  than  for  hissing. 


3R6    TBS  viBDOif  or  solouok  pabaphkasko. 

He  \e  the  prompter  of  my  tongue  and  me,  16 

My  tong:ue  doth  utier  what  liis  tongue  applies  ; 

He  sets  before  my  sight  what  I  shou!  J  see, 
He  breathes  into  my  heart  his  verities  ; 

He  tellg  me  what  I  think,  or  see,  or  hear; 

HiB  tongue  a  part,  my  tongue  a  part  doth  bear. 

Our  words  he  knows  in  telling  of  our  hearts, 
Our  hearts  he  knows  in  telling  of  our  words; 

All  in  his  hands,  words,  wisdom,  works,  and  arts, 
And  every  power  which  influence  aflbrds  ; 

He  knows  what  we  will  speak,  what  wc  will  do, 

And  how  our  minds  and  actions  will  go. 

The  wisdom  which  I  have  is  heaven's  gif^  1? 

The  knowledge  which  I  have  is  God's  reward  ; 
Both  presents  my  forewarned  senses  lift, 

And  of  my  preservation  had  regard  : 
This  teaches  me  to  know,  this  to  be  wise  ; 
Knowledge  is  wit's,  and  wit  is  knowledge'  guiae. 

Now  know  I  how  the  world  was  first  created*       IB 
How  every  motion  of  the  air  was  fram'd, 

How  man  was  made,  the  devil's  pride  abated. 
How  time's  beginning,  midst,  and  end  was  nam'd; 

Now  know  I  time,  lime'^  changej  time's  date,  time's 
show. 

And  when  the  seasons  come,  and  wheo  they  go  : 

I  know  the  changing  courses  of  the  years,  ij) 

And  the  division  of  all  differing  climes, 

The  situation  of  ihe  stars  and  spheres. 

The  flowing  tides,  and  the  flow-ebhing  times ; 

I  know  that  every  year  hath  his  four  courses, 

I  know  that  every  course  hath  several  forces. 


THE  WISDOM  OF 


FARAPHKA5ED.       387 


I  know  that  nature  is  in  every  thing,  20 

Beasts  furious,  winds  rough,  men  wicked  are, 

Whose  thoughts  their  scourge,  whose  deeds  their 
judgment's  sting, 
Whose  words  and  works  their  peril  and  their  care ; 

I  know  that  every  plant  hath  difTerence, 

I  know  that  every  root  hath  influence. 

True  knowledge  have  I  got  in  knowing  truthi      21 
True  wisdom  purchased  in  wisest  wit ; 

A  knowledge  fitting  age,  wit  fitting  youth, 

Which  makes  me  young,  though  old  with  gain  of  it: 

True  knowledge  have  I,  and  true  wisdom's  store, 

True  hap,  true  hope ;  what  wish,  what  would  I  more? 

KDown  things  I  needs  must  know,  si  tli  ^  not  unknown, 
My  care  is  knowledge,  she  doth  hear  for  me ; 

All  secrets  know  I  more  because  not  shewn  ; 
My  wisdom  secret  is,  and  her  I  see  : 

Knowledge  hath  taughtmehow  to  hear  known  causes, 

Wisdom  hath  taught  me  secrecy's  applauses. 


It  things  22 


Knowledge  and  wisdom  known 

la  reason's  mate,  discretion's  sentmei ; 

More  than  a  trine  of  joys  from  virtues  springs, 
More  than  one  union,  yet  in  union  dwell : 

One  for  to  guide  the  spring,  summer  the  other ; 

One  harvest's  nurse,  the  other  winter's  mother. 

Four  mounts  and  four  high  mounters,  all  four  one, 
One  holy  union,  one  begotten  life. 

One  manifold  affection,  yet  alone, 

All  one  in  peace's  rest,  all  none  in  strife  j 

Sure,  stable,  without  care,  having  all  power, 

Not  faurtful,  doing  good,  as  one  all  four. 


388       THE  WISDOK  OF  SOIOUOK  PA&AI>nKABEI>. 

This  peaceful  army  of  fow-knitied  souls 
Is  inarching  unto  peace's  enillesK  war. 

Their  weapons  are  ilisereiion's  written  rolla, 
Their  quarrel  love,  and  atniiy  iheir  jar: 

Wisdom  director  is,  captain  nnd  guide  ; 

All  other  take  their  places  side  by  side. 

Wisdom  divides  the  conflict  of  her  peace 
Into  four  squadrons  of  four  mutual  loves  ; 

Each  bent  to  war,  and  never  means  to  ceftie ; 
Her  wings  of  shot  her  disputation  moves  : 

She  wars  unseen,  and  pacifies  unseen  ; 

She  is  war's  victory,  yet  peace's  queen. 

She  is  the  martial  trumpet  of  alarms, 
And  yet  the  quiet  rest  in  peace's  night; 

She  guideth  martial  troops,  she  honours  arms, 
Yet  joins  she  fight  with  peace,  and  peace  v 
fight; 

Siie  is  the  breath  of  God's  and  heaven's  power, 

Vet  peace's  nurse  in  being  peace's  flower, 

A  dovring  in  of  that  which  ebbeth  out, 
An  ebbing  out  of  that  which  floneth  in  ; 

Frcsumplion  she  doth  hate  in  being  stout, 
Humility,  though  poor,  her  favours  win  : 

She  is  the  influence  of  heaven's  flow  ; 

No  filth  doth  follow  her  where'er  she  go. 

She  is  that  spring  which  never  hath  an  ebb. 
That  silver-cofour'd  brook  which  hath  no  i 

That  loom  which  weaves  and  never  cuts  the 
That    tree   which   grows    and   never    leaves  j 
bud: 

She  constant  is,  inconstancy  her  foe  ; 

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


THE  WISDOM  OF  SOIOUON  PARAPHRASED. 


Phccbus  doth  weep  wlien  watery  clouds  approach. 
She  keeps  her  brightness  everlastingly  ; 

Phtcbe,  when  Phcehua  shinea,  forsakes  night's  coach, 
Her  day  Js  night  and  day  immortally; 

The  undefiled  mirror  of  renown. 

The  image  of  God's  power,  her  virtue's  crown. 


,  knowledge,  wit,  and  reason's  skill,     27 
All  four  are  places  in  one  only  grace ; 
They  wisdom  are,  obedient  to  her  will. 

All  four  are  one,  one  in  all  four's  place ; 
And  wisdom  being  one,  she  can  do  all, 
Sithi  one  hath  four,  all  subject  to  one  call. 

Herself  remaining  self,  the  world  renews,  28 

Henewing  ages  with  perpetual  youth, 

Entering  into  the  souls  which  death  pursues. 

Making  them  God's  friends  which  were  friends 
to  truth  : 

If  wisdom  doth  not  harbour  in  thy  mind, 

God  loves  thee  not,  and  that  thy  soul  shall  find. 

For  how  canst  thou  be  led  without  thy  light?       29 
How  can  thy  eyeless  soul  direct  her  way. 

If  wanting  her  which  guides  thy  steps  aright, 
Thy  steps  from  night  into  a  path  of  day? 

More  beautiful  then  is  the  eye  of  heaven, 

Gilding  herself  with  her  self-changing  ateven.' 

The  stars  are  twinkling  handmaids  to  the  moon,  30 
Both  moon  and  stars  handmaids  to  wisdom's  sun  ; 

These  shine  at  middest  night,  this  at  midnoon, 
Each  new'begins  their  light  when  each  halh  done  ; 

Pale-mantled  night  follows  red-mantled  day. 

Vice  follows  both,  but  to  her  own  decay. 
1  Siih']  i.  e.  since.  '  Keuen]  See  note,  p,  371. 


390      TSS  WtSCOM  OF  SOLOUOK  PAKAFHRASLD. 

CH*r.  %in. 
Who  is  the  empress  of  tlie  world's  confine,  1 

The  monarchess  of  the  four-eorner'd  eartb, 
The  princess  of  the  seas,  life  wiihout  6ne, 

Commixer  of  delight  with  sorrow's  mirth  ? 
JVhat  sovereign  is  she  which  ever  reigns, 
Which  queen-like  governs  all,  yet  none  cooslraina  ! 

Wisdom  ;  O  fly,  my  spirit,  with  that  word ! 

Wisdom  ;  O  lodge,  my  spirit,  in  that  name  I 
Fly,  soul,  unlo  the  mansion  of  her  lord, 

Although  thy  wings  be  singed  in  ber  flame: 
Tell  her  my  blackness  doth  admire  her  beauty  ; 
I'll  marry  her  in  love,  serve  her  in  duty. 

If  marry  her,  God  is  my  father  God,  2 

Christ  is  my  brother,  angels  are  my  kin, 

The  earth  my  dowry,  heaven  my  abode. 

My  rule  the  world,  my  life  without  iny  Bin  ; 

She  is  the  daughter  of  immortal  Jove; 

My  wife  in  heart,  in  thought,  in  soul,  in  love. 

Happy  for  ever  he  that  thought  in  heart, 

Happy  for  ever  he  that  heart  in  thought ; 
Hnppy  the  soul  of  both  which  bears  both  part, 
Happy  that  love  which  thought,  heart,  soul  hath 
sought : 
The  name  of  love  is  happiest,  for  1  love  her; 
Soul,  heart,  and  thoughts,  love's  agents  are  to  prove 
bet. 

Ye  parents,  that  would  have  your  children  rul'd,  3 
Here  may  they  be  instructed,  rul'd,  and  taught; 

Ye  children,  that  would  have  your  parents  school'd, 
Feedbg  their  wanton  thirst  with  folly's  draught. 

See  here  the  school  of  discipline  erected  ! 

See  here  how  yoimg  and  old  are  both  corrected  ! 


THE  W18D0JI  OF 


PARAPBKASED. 


CKildren,  tliis  is  the  mistress  of  your  bliss, 
Your  schoolmistress,  reformer  of  your  lives; 

Parents,  you  that  do  speak,  think,  do  amiss, 

Here's  she  which  love's  and  life's  direction  gives ; 

She  teacheth  that  which  God  knows  to  be  true, 

She  chooseth  that  which  God  would  choose  for 
yoii. 

What  is  01 

What  is 
What  is  01 

What  is 
Our  birth, 
What  birth 


birth  ?  poor,  naked,  needy,  cold  ;        4 
lur  life?  poor  as  our  birth  hath  been  ; 
'  age  7  forlorn  in  being  old ; 
lur  end?  as  our  beginning's  scene: 
)ur  life,  our  age,  our  end  is  poor ; 

what  age,  what  end  hath 


what  I 


■e? 


Made  rich  it  is  wiib  vanity's  vain  show ; 

If  wanting  wisdom,  it  is  folly's,  game ; 
Or  like  a  bended  or  unbended  bow, 

III  fortune's  scoff  it  is,  good  fortune's  shame : 
If  wisdom  be  the  riches  of  tby  mind. 
Then  can  thy  fortune  see,  not  seeing,  blind. 

Then  if  good  fortune  doth  begin  tby  stale,  '. 

Ill  fortune  cannot  end  what  she  begins ; 
Thy  fate  at  first  will  still  remain  thy  fate, 

Thy  conduct  unto  joys,  not  unto  sins : 
If  thou  the  bridegroom  art,  wisdom  the  bride* 
111  fortune  cannot  swim  against  thy  tide. 

Thou  marrying  her  dost  marry  more  than  she,      ( 
Thy  poriion  is  not  faculties,  but  bliss; 

Thou  need'st  not  leaching,  for  she  teacheth  thee. 
Nor  no  reformer,  she  thy  mistress  is  ; 

The  lesson  which  she  gives  thee  for  thy  learning 

Is  every  virtue's  love,  and  sin's  discerning. 


392      THK  vnsDou  of  BOLOUOK  FABJUin&Sm    { 

Dost  thou  desire  eKpericnce  for  to  knowf 
Why,  hon  can  she  be  less  than  what  she  at 

The  growth  of  knonledge  doth  from  wisdom  g 
The  growth  of  wisdom  is  in  knowing  this : 

Wisdom  can  tell  all  things,  what  things  are  past. 

What  done,  what  undone,  what  are  doing  lalt^_ 

Nay,  more,  what  things  are  come,  what  are  to  e 
Or  words,  or  works,  or  shews,  or  actions, 

In  her  brain's  tahle-book*  she  hath  the  sum. 
And  knows  dark  sentences'  solutions  ; 

She  knows  what  signs  and  wonders  will  ensue^ 

And  when  success  of  seasons  will  be  new. 


Who  would  not  be  a  bridegroom?  who  not  wed  t  B 
Who  would  not  have  a  bride  so  wise,  so  fair? 

Who  would  not  lie  in  such  a  peaceful  bed, 

Whose  canopy  is  heaven,  whose  shade  the  air  i 

How  can  it  be  that  any  of  the  skies 

Can  there  be  missing,  where  heaven's  kingdom  lies  [ 

If  care-sick,  I  am  comforted  with  joy  ; 

If  surfeiting  on  joy,  she  bids  tne  care  ; 
She  says  that  overmuch  will  soon  annoy, 

Too  much  ofjoy,  too  much  of  sorrow's 
She  always  counsels  me  to  keep  a  mean. 
And  not  with  joy  too  fat,  with  grief  too  lean,    ■ 

Fain  would  the  shrub  grow  by  the  highest  tree, 
Fain  would  the  mushroom  kiss  the  cedar's  bark. 

Fain  would  the  seely'  worm  a-sporting  be, 
Fain  would  the  sparrow  imitate  the  lark  : 

Though  I  a  tender  shrub,  a  mushroom  be. 

Yet  covet  I  the  honour  of  a  tree. 


PARAPBIIABES.       393 

And  may  I  not  ?  may  not  the  blossoms  bud  ? 

Doth  not  the  littlu  seed  make  ears  of  corn  ? 
Dotli  not  a  sprig,  in  time,  bear  greatest  wood  ? 

Do"  not  young  evenings  make  an  elder  morn? 
i'or  wisdom's  sake,  1  know,  though  1  be  young, 
I  shall  have  praises  fVom  ray  elders'  tongue. 

And  as  my  growth  doth  rise,  so  shall  my  wil,      10 
And  as  my  wit  doth  rise,  so  shall  my  growth ; 

In  wit  I  grow,  both  growths  grow  to  be  fit, 
Both  fitting  in  one  growth  be  fittest  both  : 

Experience  follows  age,  and  nature  youth  ; 

Some  aged  be  in  wit,  though  young  in  ruth. 

The  wisdom  which  I  have  springs  from  above, 
The  wisdom  from  above  is  that  I  have ; 

Her  1  adore,  I  reverence,  I  love, 

She's  my  pure  soid,  lock'd  in  my  body's  grave ; 

The  judgment  which  I  use  from  her  proceeds. 

Which  makes  me  raarvell'd  at  in  all  my  deeds. 

Although  mme  silence  tie  my  judgment's  tongue, 
Sad  secretary  of  dumb  action,  11 

\  Yet  shall  they  give  me  place,  though  I  be  young, 
And  stay  my  leisure's  satisfaction  ; 
Even  as  a  judge,  which  keeps  his  judgments  mute, 
~lien  clients  have  no  answer  of  their  suit. 

Pat    '^  ''^^  closure  of  my  mouth  unmeets, 
i^^tid  dives  within  the  freedom  of  my  words, 
■V  like  petitioners'  tongues  welcome  greets, 
'  with  attentive  ear  hears  my  accords; 
V  words  into  no  limits  go, 
!ch  shall  ebb,  mine  in  their  ebbing  flow. 

]  Old  ed.  ••  Doth." 


394      THE  WISDOM  OP  SOLOMOK  PAHAPBBASED. 

And  what  of  thia  vain  world,  vain  hope,  vain  shew. 
Vain  glory  seated  in  a  shade  of  praise. 

Mortality's  descent  and  folly's  flow, 
The  badge  of  vaniiy,  the  hour  of  days; 

What  glory  is  it  for  to  be  a  king, 

When  care  is  crown,  and  crown  ii  forttme's  s 

Wisdom  is  inimorlality's  alline," 

And  immortality  is  wisdom's  gain, 
By  her  the  heaven's  lineage  is  mine, 

By  her  1  immortality  obtain ; 
The  earth  is  made  immortal  in  my  name, 
The  heavens  ate  made  immortal  m  my  fame. 

Two  spacious  orbs  of  two  as  spacious  cliiou 
Shall  be  the  heritage  which  1  possess  ; 

My  rule  in  heaven,  directing  earthly  times. 

My  reign  in  earth,  commencing  earth's  redress ; 

One  king  made  two,  one  crown  a  double  crown. 

One  rule  two  rules,  one  fame  a  twice  renown. 

What  heaven  is  this,   which   every   thought  con> 
tains?  14 

Wisdom  my  heaven,  my  heaven  is  wisdom's  heaven; 
What  earth  is  this,  wherein  my  body  reigns? 

Wisdom  my  earth,  all  rule  from  wisdom  given ; 
Through  her  1  rule,  through  her  I  do  subdue. 
Through  her  I  reign,  ihroiigh  her  my  empire  grew. 


A  rule,  not  tyranny,  a  reign,  not  blood. 
An  empire,  not  a  slaughter-house  of  lives, 

A  crown,  not  cruelty  in  fury's  mood, 

A  sceptre  which  restores,  and  not  deprives; 

All  made  to  make  a  peace,  and  not  a  war. 

By  wisdom,  concord's  queen  and  discord's  bar.  1 
°  altine]  i.  e,  sUy. 


15 


\ 


The  coldest  word  oli  cools  the  hottest  threat, 
The  tyrant's  menaces  the  calma  of  peace ; 

Two  colds  augmeoteth  one,  tno  heats  one  heat, 
And  makes  both  too  extreme  when  both 

My  peaceful  reign  shall  conquer  tyrants'  force, 

Not  arms,  but  words,  not  battle, ' 


Yet  mighty  shall  I  be,  though  war  in  peace,         16 
Strong,  though  ability  hath  left  his  clime, 

And  good,  because  my  wars  and  battles  cease, 
Or,  at  the  least,  lie  smother'd  in  their  prime: 

The  fence  once  digged  up  with  fear's  amaze, 

Doth  rage  untam'd  with  folly's  fenceless  gaze. 

If  wisdom  doth  not  harbour  in  delight. 

It  breaks  the  outward  passage  of  the  mind  ; 

Therefore  I  place  my  war  in  wisdom's  might, 
Whose  heavy  labours  easy  harbours  find; 

Her  company  is  pleasure,  mirth,  and  joy, 

Not  bitterness,  not  mourning,  not  annoy. 

When  every  thought  was  balanced  by  weight       17 
Within  the  concave  of  my  body's  scale. 

My  heart  and  soul  did  hold  the  balance  straight, 
To  see  what  thought  was  joy,  what  thought  was 

But  when  I  saw  that  grief  did  weigh  down  pleasure, 
I  put  in  wisdom  to  augment  her  treasure : 

Wisdom,  the  weight  of  immortality  ;  1 8 

Wisdom,  the  balance  of  all  happiness  ; 

Wisdom,  the  weigher  of  felicity ; 

Wisdom,  the  paragon  of  blessedness  ; 

When  in  her  hands  there  lies  such  plenty's  store. 

Needs  must  her  heart  have  twice  as  much  and  more. 
'  rtmernl  i.  e.  pity. 


896       THE  mSDOM  OF  SOLOMON  TilSAFH RASED. 

Her  heart  have  I  conjoined  with  her  hand,  19 

Her  hand  hatli  she  conjoined  with  my  heart. 

Two  BOuls  one  soul,  two  hearts  one  body's  band. 
And  two  hands  made  of  ibur,  by  amour's  art : 

Was  I  not  wise  in  choosing  earthly  life? 

Nay,  wise,  thrice  wise,  in  choosing  such  a  wife  t 

Was  I  not  good?  good,  then  the  sooner  bad;       20 
Bad,  because  earth  is  full  of  wickedness. 

Because  my  body  is  with  vices  clad, 
Anatomy  of  my  Bin's  heaviness  : 

As  doth  unseemly  clothes  make  the  skin  faol^l 

So  the  sin-inked  body  blots  the  soul. 

Thus  lay  my  heart  plung'd  in  destruction's  mirr.fl 
Thus  lay  my  soul  bespotted  with  my  sin. 

Thus  lay  myself  consum'd  in  my  desire. 
Thus  lay  all  parts  ensnared  in  one  gin  ; 

At  last  my  heart,  mounting  above  the  mud. 

Lay  between  hope  and  death,  mischief  and  good. 

Thus  panting,  ignorant  to  live  or  die, 
To  rise  or  fall,  to  stand  or  else  to  sink, 

I  cast  a  fainting  look  unto  the  sky. 

And  saw  the  thought  which  my  poor  l 
ibink ; 

Wisdom  my  ihoughl,  at  whose  seen  sight  I 

And  with  my  heart,  my  mind,  my  sou!,  I  saidj 


O  God  of  fathers,  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth,  j 
Mercy's  true  sovereign,  pity's  portraiture 

King  of  all  kings,  a  birth  surpassing  birth, 
A  life  immortal,  essence  ever  pure. 

Which  with  a  breath  ascending  from  thy  thought, 

Hast  made  the  heavens  of  earth,  the  earth  of  nought  t 


THE  WISDOM  OF  BOLOMOK 

Thou  wliich  hast  made  mortality  for  man, 
Beginning  life  to  make  an  end  of  woe, 

Ending  in  liim  what  in  himself  began, 
His    earth's    dominion    through    thy    v 
flow; 

Made  for  to  lule  according  lo  desert, 

And  execute  revenge  with  upright  heait; 


Behold  a  crown,  but  yet  a  crown  of  care,  4 

Behold  a  sceptre,  yet  a  sorrow's  guise, 

More  than  tlie  balance  of  my  head  can  bear, 
More  than  my  hands  can  hold,  wherein  it  lies  ; 

My  crown  doth  want  supportance  for  to  bear, 

My  sceptre  wanteth  empire  for  to  wear. 

A  legless  body  is  my  kingdom's  map, 
Limping  in  folly,  halting  in  distress; 

Give  me  thy  wisdom,  Lord,  my  better  hap. 
Which  may  my  folly  cure,  my  grief  redress ; 

O  let  me  not  fall  in  oblivion's  cave ! 

Let  wisdom  be  my  bail,  for  her  1  crave. 

Behold  thy  servant  pleading  for  his  hire,  S 

As  an  apprentice  to  thy  gospel's  word! 

Behold  hia  poor  estate,  his  hot-cold  fire, 

His  weak-strong  limbs,  hia  merry  woes'  record ! 

Born  of  a  woman,  woman-like  in  woe, 

They  weak,  they  feeble  are,  and  I  am  so. 

My  time  of  life  is  as  an  hour  of  day, 

Tis  as  a  day  of  months,  a  month  of  years ; 

It  never  comes  again,  but  fades  away. 

As  one  morn's  sun  about  the  hemispheres: 

Little  my  memory,  lesser  my  time. 

But  least  of  all  my  understanding's  prime. 


398      TBE  WIIDOM  OF  ROLOKOK  PARAPH RASKD, 

Say  that  my  memory  should  never  die. 

Say  that  my  time  should  never  lose  a  glide. 

Say  that  myself  hati  earthly  majesty, 
Seated  in  all  the  elory  of  my  pride ; 

Yet  if  discretion  did  not  rule  my  mrnd. 

My  reign  would  be  like  fortune's,  folly-bliad  : 

My  tnemory  a  pathway  to  my  shame. 

My  time  the  looking-glass  of  my  disgrace, 

Myself  resemblance  of  my  scorned  name, 
My  pride  the  puffed  shadow  of  my  face  : 

Thus  should  I  be  remember'd,  not  regarded  ; 

Thus  should  my  labours  end,  but  not  rewarded. 

What  were  it  to  be  shadow  of  a  king? 

A  vanity;  lo  wear  a  shadow'd  crown? 
A  vaniiy;  to  love  an  outward  thing? 

A  vanity  ;  vain  shadows  of  renown  ; 
This  king  is  king  of  shades,  because  a  shade, 
A  king  in  show,  though  not  in  action  made. 

His  shape  have  I,  his  cognizance"  I  wear, 
A  smoky  vapour  hemm'd  with  vanity; 

Himself  I  am,  his  kingdom's  crown  T  bear. 
Unless  that  wisdom  change  my  livery  i 

A  king  I  am,  God  hath  inflamM  me. 

And  lesser  than  I  am  I  cannot  be. 

When  I  command,  the  people  do  obey, 
Submissive  suhjecia  to  my  votive  will  j 

A  prince  I  am,  and  do  what  princes  may, 

Decree,  command,  rule,  judge,  perform,  fulfil  ^M 

Yet  I  myself  am  subject  unto  God, 

As  are  all  others  to  my  judgment's  rod. 

°  ei>gaitatux]  i.  t.  badge. 


TBS  WISDOM  OP  SOLOUOM  PAKAFHKASEO.      399 


As  do  my  subjecl[s]  honour  my  cotnmand, 

So  1  at  his  command  a  subject  am  ; 
I  build  a  temple  on  mount  Sion'a  sand. 

Erect  an  aJiar  in  thy  city's  name; 
Resemblances  these  are  nhere  thou  dost  dnell, 
Made  when  thou  framed'st  beaven,  earth,  and  bell. 

All  these  three  casements  were  contain'd  in  wit ;    9 
Twas  wisdom  for  to  frame  the  heaven's  sky, 

'Twaa  wisdom  for  to  make  the  earth  so  lit. 
And  hell  within  the  lowest  orb  to  lie, 

To  make  a  heavenly  clime,  an  earthly  courae, 

And  hell,  although  the  name  of  it  be  worse. 

Before  the  world  was  made  wisdom  was  born, 

Bom  of  heaven's  God,  conceived  in  his  breast, 
Which   knew    what    works  would   be,  what  ages 

What  labours  life  should  have,  what  quiet  rest. 
What  should  displease  and  please,  in  vice,  in  good, 
What  should  be  clearest  spring,  what  foulest  mud. 

O  make  my  sinful  body's  world  anew,  10 

Erect  new  elements,  new  airs,  new  skies  ! 

The  time  I  have  is  frail,  the  course  untrue, 
The  globe  uneonstant,  like  ill  fortune's  eyes  : 

First  make  the  world,  which  doth  my  soul  con- 

And  next  my  wisdom,  in  whose  power  I  reign. 

Illumine  earth  with  wisdom's  heavenly  sight, 
Make  her  ambassador  to  grace  the  earth  ; 

O  let  her  rest  by  day  and  lodge  by  night 
Within  the  closure  of  my  body's  hearth  I 

That  in  her  sacred  self  I  may  perceive 

What  things  are  good  to  take,  what  ill  to  leave. 


400       TUB  WIBDOH  OF  SOIOUOK  PAKAPHIUSED. 

The  body'*  heat  will  flow  into  the  &ce. 
The  outward  index  of  an  outward  deed; 

The  inward  ains  do  keep  an  inward  plac 

Eyes,  face,  mouth,  tongue,  and  every  fuE 

She  is  ray  face;  if  I  do  any  iU, 

I  see  my  shame  in  her  repugnant  will. 

She  is  my  glass,  my  type,  my  form,  my  map. 
The  figure  of  my  deed,  shape  of  my  though^V 

My  life's  charicter,  fortune  to  my  hap,  ^ 

Which  understandeth  all  that  heart  hath  wroii| 

What  works  I  take  in  hand  she  finisheih. 

And  all  my  vicious  thoughts  diminisbetli. 

My  facts  arc  written  in  her  forehead's  book,         13 
The  volume  of  my  thoughts,  lines  of  my  words ;  - 

The  sins  I  have  she  murders  with  a  look. 

And  what  one  cheek  denies,  th'  other  afibrds ; 

As  white  and  red,  like  battles  and  retreats. 

One  doth  defend  the  blows,  the  other  beats ; 

So  is  her  furious  mood  c 

Her  rod  is  profit,  her  c 
She  makes  me  keep  an  acceptable  style, 

And  govern  every  limit  of  the  earth : 
Through  her  the  state  of  monarchy  is  known. 
Through  her  I  rule,  and  guide  my  father's  throoe. 

Mortality  itself,  without  repair, 

Is  ever  falling  feebly  on  the  ground ; 
SubmisBive  body,  heart  above  the  air, 

Which  fain  would  know,  when  knowledge  ii 

Pain  would  it  soar  above  the  eagle's  eye, 
Though  it  be  made  of  lead,  and  cannot  By. 


TBE  W13D0M  OF  SOLOMON  PARA7HSA3ED.       401 


The  soul  and  body  are  the  wings  of  man; 

The  soul  should  mount,  but  that  lies  drown'd  i) 


With  leaden  spirit,  but  doth  what  it  can, 
Yet  scarcely  can  it  rise  when  it  is  in  ; 
Then  how  can  man  so  weak  know  God  so  strong  1 
What  heart  from  thought,  what  thought  from  heart 
hath  sprung? 

We  think  that  every  judgment  is  alike,  14 

That  every  purpose  hath  one  final  end  ; 

Our  thoughts,  alas !  are  fears,  fears  horrors  strike, 
Horrors  our  life's  uncertain  course  do  spend; 

Fear  follows  negligence,  both  death  and  hell ; 

Unconstant  are  the  paths  wherein  we  dwell. 

The  hollow  concave  of  our  body's  vaults  15 

Once  laden  up  with  sin's  eternal  graves, 

Straight  bursts  into  the  soul  the  slime  of  faults, 
And  overfloweth  like  a  sea  of  waves ; 

The  earth,  as  neighbour  to  our  privy  thought, 

Keeps  fast  the  mansion  which  our  cares  have  bought. 

Say,  can  we  see  ourselves?  are  we  so  wise?  16 

Or  can  we  judge  our  own  with  our  own  hearts  ? 

Alas,  we  cannot!  folly  blinds  our  eyes. 

Mischief  our  minds,  with  her  mischievous  arts  : 

Folly  reigns  there  where  wisdom  should  bear  sway, 
And  folly's  mischief  bars  discretion's  way. 


O  weak  capacity  of  strongest  wit! 

O  strong  capacity  of  weaker  sense ! 
To  guide,  to  meditate,  unapt,  unfit. 

Blind  in  perceiving  earth's  circumfluence : 
If  labour  doth  consist  in  mortal  skill, 
'Tis  greater  labour  to  know  heaven's  will. 


403       THE  WItDOU  or  aOLOUON  PABAPBRASSD.     I 

The  toiling  spirit  ofa  labouring  man 

Ir  toss'd  in  casualties  of  fortune's  seas; 

He  thinks  it  greater  labour  than  he  can, 
To  run  his  mortal  course  nithoul  an  ease: 

Then  who  can  gain  or  And  celestial  thtnga. 

Unless  tlicir  hope'  a  greater  labour  brings! 

What  volume  of  thy  mind  can  then  contain 
Thoughts,  words,  and  works,  which  God  tfaifl 
speaks,  and  makes, 

When  heaven  itself  cannot  such  honour  gain. 
Nor  angels  know  the  counsel  which  God  talcea  I 

Vet  if  thy  heart  be  wisUom's  mansion. 

Thy  soul  filial  1  gain  tliy  heart's  made  mention. 

Who  can  in  one  day's  space  make  two  day's  toil?  18 
Or  who  in  two  days'  space  will  spend  but  one?     • 

The  one  doih  keep  his  mean  in  overbroil, 
The  other  under  mean,  because  alone ; 

Say,  what  is  man  without  his  spirit  sways  bin 

Say,  what's  the  spirit  if  the  man  decays  him  T   > 

An  ilUreformed  breath,  a  life,  a  hell, 

A  going  out  worse  than  a  coming  in ; 
For  wisdom  is  the  body's  sentinel,  

Set  to  guard  life,  which  else  would  fall  in  sin; 
She  doth  correct  and  love,  sways  and  preserves, 
TeachcE  and  favours,  rules  and  yet  observes. 

C«AP.  X. 

Correction  follows  love,  love  follows  hate, 
For  love  in  hale  is  hate  in  too  much  love  j 

So  chastisement  is  preservation's  mate, 

Instructing  and  preserving  those  we  prove  : 

So  wisdom  first  corrects,  then  favoureth. 

But  fortune  favours  first,  then  waveretb. 
■  hofu]  Old  eil.  "  hopM." 


THE  WISDOM  OF  SOLOMON  PAHAPHBAaBD.       403 

Ftral,  the  first  father  of  this  earthly  world, 
First  mail,  first  fatlier  call'd  for  afler-time, 

Unfashion^d  and  like  a  heap  was  hurl'd, 

Form'd  and  reform'd  by  wisdom  out  of  slime  ; 

By  nature  ill  reform'd,  by  wisdom  purer, 

She  mortal  life,  ahe  better  life's  procurer. 

Alas,  what  was  lie  but  a  clod  of  day  ?  2 

What  ever  was  he  but  an  ashy  cask? 

By  wisdom  clothed  in  his  best  array, 
If  better  may  be  best  to  choose  a  task  : 

One  gave  him  time  to  live,  sbe  power  to  reign, 

Making  two  powers  one,  one  power  twain. 

But,  O  malign,  ill-boding  wickedness,  3 

Like  bursting  gulfs  o'erwhelming  virtue's  seed.' 

Too  furious  wrath,  forsaking  happiness, 

Losing  ten  thousand  joys  with  one  dire  deed: 

Cain  could  see,  but  folly  struck  bim  blind. 

To  kill  his  brother  in  a  raging  mind. 

O  too  unhappy  stroke  to  end  two  lives!  4 

Unhappy  actor  in  death's  tr^edy, 
Murdering  a  brother  wbose  name  murder  gives, 

Whose  slaying  action  slaughters  butchery  : 
A  weeping  part  had  earth  in  that  same  play, 
For  she  did  weep  herself  to  death  that  day. 

Water  distili'd  from  millions  of  her  eyes, 
Upon  tbe  long-dried  carcass  of  her  time  ; 

Her  watery  conduits  were  the  weeping  skies. 
Which  made  her  womb  an  overflowing  elime : 

Wisdom  preserv'd  it,  which  preserves  all  good, 

And  taught  it  how  to  make  an  ark  of  wood. 


404      TRI  WIgDOU  OF  SOLOMON 

O  that  one  board  should  save  so  many  lives,  S 

Upon  the  world's  huge  billow-toBsing  se* ! 

Tiras  not  the  board,  'twas  wisdom  whicb  sarrires, 
Wisdom  that  ark,  that  board,  that  fence,  that  bftj : 

The  world  was  made  a  water-rolling  ware. 

But  wisdom  belter  hope's  assurance  gave. 

And  when  pale  malice  did  advance  her  flag 
Upon  the  raging  standard  of  despite. 

Fiend's  sovereign,  sin's  mistress,  and  hell's  bag, 
Dun  Pliito'i  lady,  empress  of  (he  night; 

Wisdom,  from  whom  immortal  joy  begun, 

Prcserv'd  the  righteous  as  her  faultless  son. 

The  wicked  perished,  but  they  surviv'd;  6 

The  nicked  were  ensnar'd,  they  were  preurr'd ; 

One  kept  in  joy,  the  one  of  joy  depriv'd ; 
One  feeding,  fed,  the  other  feeding,  starv'd  : 

The  food  which  wisdom  gives  is  nourisfamenti 

The  food  which  malice  gives  is  languishment. 

One  feeds,  the  other  feeds,  but  choking  feeds ; 

Two  contraries  in  meat,  two  difTering  meats; 
This  brings  forth  hate,  and  this  repentance'  seeds ; 

This  war,  this  peace,  this  battles,  this  retreats : 
And  that  example  may  be  truly  tried. 
These  liv'd  in  Sodom's  fire,  the  other  died. 

The  land  will  bear  me  witness  they  are  dead,         7 

Which,  for  their  sakes,  bearfsj  nothing  else  but 

death ; 

The  witness  of  itself  wiih  vices  fed, 
A  smoky  testimony  of  sin's  breath  : 

This  is  my  witness,  iny  certificate. 

And  this  is  my  sin -weeping  sociate. 


THE  WIBDOU  OP  SOLOMON  PARAPHRASED.       405 


My  pen  frill  scarce  hold  ink  to  write  these  noes, 
These  woes,  tlie  bloitc  J  inky  lines  of  sin ; 

My  paper  wrinkles  at  my  sorrow's  shows, 
And  like  that  land  will  bring  no  harvest  in : 

Had  Lot's  unfaithful  wife  been  without  fault, 

My  fresh-ink'd  pen  had  never  call'd  her  salt. 

But  now  my  quill,  the  tell-tale  of  all  moans,  t 

Is  savoury  bent  to  aggravate  salt  tears. 

And  wets  my  paper  with  aalt-water  groans, 
Making  me  stick  in  agonising  fears  : 

My  paper  now  is  grown  to  billows'  might ; 

Sometimes  I  stay  ray  pen,  sometimes  I  write. 

0  foolish  pilot  I,  blind-heatted  guide, 

Can  I  not  see  the  cliAs,"  hut  rent  my  bark ! 

Must  I  needs  hoist  up  sails  'gainst  wind  and  tide, 
And  leave  my  soul  behind,  my  wisdom's  ark  1 

Well  may  I  be  the  glass  of  my  disgrace, 

And  set  my  sin  in  other  sinners'  place. 

But  why  despair  I  ?  here  comes  wisdom's  grace,    i 
Whose  hope  doth  lead  me  unto  better  haj; 


e  presence  doth  din 

Because  I  serve  her  as 

Like  Cain  I  shall  be  resti 

From  shipwreck's  peril  ti 


:t  my  fore-ri 
ny  beauty's  map : 
''d  to  heaven, 
a  quiet  haven. 


When  that  by  Cain's  hgnd  Abel  was  slain,  1 

His  brother  Abel,  brother  to  his  ire, 

Then  Cain  fled,  to  fly  destruction's  pain, 

God's  heavy  wrath,  against  his  blood's  desire; 

But  being  fetcht  again  by  wisdom's  power, 

Had  pardon  for  his  deed,  love  for  his  lour. 

'  difu}  i.  e.  cMb. 


406     THK  wuDOH  01  lOLomit  rAa-ArBSAiSB. 

By  his  repentance  be  remission  bad, 
And  rel&Kation  from  the  clog  of  lin  ; 

Hia  painful  labour  labour's  riches  made, 

Hii  labouring  pain  did  pleasure's  profit  win : 

*Twas  wisdom,  wisdom  made  him  to  repent. 

And  newly  plac'd  him  in  his  old  content. 

His  body,  which  was  once  destruction's  care. 
Black  murder's  territory,  mischief's  house. 

By  her  these  wicked  sins  were  made  his  slare. 
And  she  became  his  bride,  his  wife,  his  spotue ; 

Enriching  him  which  was  too  rich  before, 

Too  rich  in  sice,  in  happiness  loo  poor. 

M^fera,  which  did  rule  within  his  breast,  IS 

And  kept  foul  Lema's  fea  within  his  mind, 

Both  now  displease  him  which  once  pleaa'd  him 
best. 
Now  murdering  murder  with  his  being  kind  : 

These  which  were  once  his  friends  are  now  hi«  Ibes. 

Whose  practice  he  retorts  with  wisdom's  blows. 

Yet  still  lie  they  in  ambush  for  his  soul. 

But  he,  tnore  wiser,  keeps  a  wiser  way ; 
They  see  him,   and   they  bark,   snarl,    grin,  and 

But  wisdom  guides  his  steps,  he  cannot  stray; 
By  whom  he  conquers,  and  through  whom  he  knows 
The  fear  of  God  is  stronger  than  his  foes. 

When  man  was  clad  in  vice's  livery,  13 

And  sold  as  bondman  unto  sin's  canunand. 

She,  she  forsook  him  not  for  infamy. 

But  freed  him  from  his  heart's  imprisoo'd  band; 

And  when  he  lay  in  dungeon  of  despite. 

She  interlin'd  his  grief  with  her  delight. 


THB  VISDOK  OF  EOLOMOK  PARAPHRASED.       407 

Though  servile  she  with  him,  she  was  content;    H 
The  prison  was  her  lodge  as  well  as  his, 

Till  she  the  sceptre  of  the  world  had  lent, 
To  glad  his  fortune,  to  augment  his  bliss ; 

To  punish  false  accusers  of  true  deeds. 

And  raise  in  him  immortal  glory's  seeds. 

e  call  her  wisdom,  by  her  name,         15 
t  a  nominating  style, 
t  worth  lo  make 
F-old  hierarchy  from  honour's  file  ? 
Say,  shall  we  file  out  fame  for  virtue's  store, 
And  give  a  name  not  thought  nor  heard  before  ? 

Then  should  we  make  her  two,  where  now  but  one. 
Then   should  we  make   her   common  to  each 


Wisdom  shall  be  her 
If  alter  old  for  new 
Call  her  still  wisdom. 
Our  lives'  deliverer  from 


i,  she  wise  alone  ; 
do  old  wrong ; 


ontrols. 


To  make  that  better  which  is  best  of  all. 
Were  to  disarm  the  title  of  the  power. 

And  think  to  make  a  raise,  and  make  a  fall. 
Turn  best  to  worst,  a  day  unto  an  hour; 

To  give  two  sundry  names  unto  one  thing, 

Makes  it  more  commoner  in  echo's  sting. 


She  guides  man's  soul,  let  her  be  call'd  a  queen  i 
She  enters  into  man,  call  her  a  sprite ; 

She  makes  them  godly  which  have  never  been ; 
Call  her  herself,  the  image  of  her  might : 

Those  which  for  virtue  plead,  she  prompts  iheii 
tongue, 

Whose  suit  no  tyrant  nor  no  king  can  wrong. 


408      THK  WISDOU  OF  SOLOMOK  FAKAPBSAaiD. 

She  stands  as  b&r  between  tlieir  mouth  and  them ;  17 
She  prompts  ilicir  thoughts,  their  thoughts  prompt" 
speech's  sound ; 

Their  tongue's  reward  is  honour's  diadem, 
Their  labour's  hire  with  doest  merit  crown'd; 

She  is  as  judge  and  witness  of  each  heart, 

Condemning  falsehood,  taking  virtue's  p&rt, 

A  shadow  in  the  day,  star  in  the  night ; 

A  shadow  for  to  shade  them  from  the  Btii^  ' 
A  star  in  darkness  for  to  give  them  light, 

A  shade  in  dny,  a  star  when  day  is  done ; 
Keeping  both  courses  true  in  being  true, 
A  shade,  a  star,  to  shade  and  lighten  you. 

And  had  she  not,  the  sun's  hot-burning  fire  IS 

Had  scorch 'd  the  inward  palace  of  your  powers. 

Your  hot  affection  cool'd  your  hot  desire ; 
Two  heals  once  met  make  cool-distilling  showers; 

So  likewise  had  not  wisdom  been  your  star, 

You  had  been  prisoner  unto  Phoebe's  car. 

She  made  the  Red  Sea  subject  to  your  craves,      19 
The  surges  calms,  the  billows  smoothest  ways ; 

She  made  rough  winds  sleep  silent  in  their  cares, 
And  i£ol  watch,  whom  all  the  winds  obeys ; 

Their  foes,  pursuing  them  with  death  and  dooin, 

Did  make  the  sea  their  church,  the  waves  their  tomb. 

They  furrow'd  up  a  grave  to  lie  therein,  20 

Burying  themselves  with  their  own  bandjr  deed ; 

Sin  digg'd  a  pit  itself  to  bury  sin. 

Seed  ploughed  up  the  ground  to  scatter  seed  : 

The  righteous,  seeing  this  same  sudden  fall. 

Did  praise  the  Lord,  and  seiat'd  upon  them  all. 

"  prompl}  Old  ed.  "  prompts." 


THE  WISDOU  OF  SOLOMON  PARAPHRASED.       409 

A  glorious  prize,  though  from  inglorious  hands, 
A  worthy  spoil,  though  from  unworthy  heai 

Toss'd  with  the  ocean's  rage  upon  the  sands. 
Victorious  gain,  gained  by  wisdom's  arts. 

Which  makes  the  dumb  to  speak,  the  blind  to 

The  deaf  to  hear,  the  babes  have  gravity. 


I 
I 


What  he  could  have  a  heart,  what  heart  a  thought,  1 
What  thought  a  tongue,  what  tongue  a  shew  of 

Having  his  ship  hallass'd  with  such  a  fraught. 
Which  calms  the  ever-weeping  ocean's  tears. 
Which  prospers  every  enterprise  of  war, 
And  leads  their  fortune  by  good  fortune's  star  ? 

A  pilot  on  the  seas,  guide  on  the  land,  3,  H 

Through  uncouth,  desolate,  untrodden  way, 

Through  wilderness  of  woe,  which  in  woes  stand. 
Pitching  their  tents  where  desolation  lay  ; 

In  just  revenge  encountering  with  their  foes. 

Annexing  wrath  to  wrath,  and  blows  to  blows. 

But  when  the  heat  of  overmuch  alarms  4 

Had  made  their  bodies  subject  unto  thirst, 

And  hroil'd  their  hearts  in  wrath -"'allaying  harms, 
With  fiery  surges  which  from  body  burst. 

That  time  had  made  the  total  sum  of  life, 

Had  not  affection  strove  to  end  the  strife. 

Wisdom,  affect ionating  power  of  zeal. 
Did  cool  the  passion  of  tormenting  heat 

With  water  from  a  rocii,  which  did  reveal 

Her  dear,  dear  love,  plac'd  in  affection's  seat ; 

She  was  their  mother  twice,  she  nurs'd  them  twice. 

Mingling  their  heat  with  cold,  their  fiie  with  tec. 
"  uratli-]  Old  ed.  "  wrailn-," 


410      THE  WISDOM  OF  BOLOUOK  PAUPHBAUBi. 

From   whence   receiv'd   tbey  life,   front   a 
From  whence  Tcceiv'd  they  speech,  from  « 

As  if  all  pleasure  did  proceed  from  moan. 
Or  all  discretion  from  a  lenaeless  block  ; 

For  wIibE  was  each  but  silent,  dead,  and  muteg 

As  if  a  thorny  thistle  should  bear  fruit. 

Tis  stiange  how  that  should  cure  which  erst  dij 
Give  life  in  whom  destruction  is  enshrm'd ; 

Alas,  the  stone  ia  dead,  and  haih  no  skill ! 

Wisdom  gave  life  and  love,  'twas  wisdom's  mind ; 

She  made  the  store  which  poison^  her  foes, 

Give  life,  give  cure,  give  remedy  to  those. 

Blood-quafHng  Mars,  which  wash'd  himself  in  gore.fl 
Reign'd  in  her   foes'  thirst  slaughter-drinking 

Their  heads  the  bloody  store-house  of  blood's  store, 
Their  minds  made  bloody  streams  disburs'd  in 


Whatv 
To  pri, 


part! 


:  it  else  but  butchery  and  hate, 
'  young  infants'  blood  at  murder's  ratef 


But  let  ttiera  surfeit  on  their  bloody  cup. 

Carousing  to  their  own  destruction's  hesld|,j 
We  drink  the  silver-streamed  water  up, 

Which  unexpected  flow'd  from  wisdom's  ■ 
Declaring,  by  the  thirst  of  our  dry  souls. 
How  all  our  foes  did  swim  in  murder's  bowls 
What  greater  ill  than  famine  ?  or  what  ill 

Can  be  compart  to  the  lire  of  thirst? 
One  be  as  both,  for  both  the  body  kill, 

And  first  brings  torments  in  tormenting  6rst; 
Famine  is  death  itself,  and  thirst  no  less, 
If  bread  and  water  do  not  yield  ledress. 


I 


I 


Yot  ihis  affliction  is  but  virtue's  trial, 
ProceedJDg  from  the  mercy  of  God's  ire  ; 

To  see  if  it  can  find  his  truth's  denial, 

Hisjudgment'sbrcach.attenipts  contempt's  desire: 

But  O,  the  wicked  sleeping  in  misdeed, 

Had  death  on  whom  tliey  fed,  on  whom  they  feed ! 

Adjudg'd,  condemn'd,  and  punish 'd  in  one  breath,  9 
Arraign'd,  tormented,  tortiir'd  in  one  Ian  ; 

Adjudg'd  like  captives  with  destruction's  wreath, 
Arraign'd  like  thieves  before  the  bar  of  awe; 

Condemn'd,  tormented,  tortur'd,  punished. 

Like  captives  bold,  thieves  unastonished. 

Say  God  did  suffer  famine  for  to  reign. 

And  thirst  to  rule  amongst  the  choicest  heart. 
Yet,  father-like,  he  eas'd  them  of  their  pain, 

And  prov'd  them  how  they  could  endure  a  smart ; 
But,  as  a  righteous  king,  condemn'd  the  others, 
As  wicked  sons  unto  as  wicked  mothers. 
For  where  the  devil  reigns,  there,  sure,  is  hell ;    lO 

Because  the  tabernacle  of  his  name, 
His  mansion-house,  the  place  where  he  doth  dwell. 

The  coal-black  visage  of  his  nigrum"  fame; 
So,  if  the  wicked  live  upon  the  earth, 
Earlh  is  their  hell,  from  good  to  worser  birth. 
If  present,  they  are  present  to  their  tears; 

If  absent,  they  are  present  to  their  woes; 
Like  as  the  snail,  which  shews  all  that  she  bears, 

Making  her  back  the  mountain  of  her  shews: 
Present  to  their  death,  not  absent  lo  their  care, 
Theit  punishment  alike  where'er  they  are. 


*  nigrum}  This  word,  the  meaning  of  which  i: 
■ccun  in  tlie  "  Defiance  lo  Envy  "  prefixed  to  llie  i 
□  this  to).  : 

"  My  nigntm  Icue-boTD  ink,"  Sic, 


412       TUB  WISDOM  OF  SOLOMON  PABAPHRASBB. 


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

Whent 


n'd,   lamented,  griev'd,  and 
11 


e  witb  lament  { 
TOW  be  TCith  sorrow  bail'd, 
iBumetlithatwhichamilesbsthlait! 
This  makes  a  double  prison,  double  chain, 
A  double  mourning,  and  a  double  pain. 
Captivity,  hoping  for  freedom's  lisp. 

At  length  doth  pay  the  ransom  of  her  hope,^ 
Yet  frees  her  thougbt  from  any  clogging  clap, 

Though  back  be  almost  burst'  with  iron's  cope; 
So  they  endur'd  the  more,  because  tbey  knew 
Thai  never  till  the  spring  the  flowers  grew  ; 
And  that  by  patience  cometh  heart's  delight,        13 

Long-sought- for  bliss,  long-fnr-fetT  hsppioesa; 
Content  they  were  to  die  for  virtue's  right, 

Sith'Joy  should  be  the  pledge  of  heaviness: 
When  unexpected  things  were  brought  to  pass. 
They  were  atnaz'd,  and  wonder'd  where  God  was. 
He  whom  they  did  deny,  now  they  extol  j 

He  whom  they  do  extol,  they  did  deny  ; 
He  whom  they  aid  deride,  they  do  enroll 

In  register  of  heavenly  majesty : 
Their  thirst  was  ever  thirst,  repentance  slopt  it' 
Their  life  was  ever  dead,  repentance  propt  it. 

And   had    it   not,    their    thirst    had   burn'd    tiieir 
hearts,  IS 

Their  hearts  bad  cried  out  for  their  tongues'  reply. 
Their  tongues  had  raised  all  their  bodies'  parts. 

Their  bodies,  once  in  arms,  had  made  all  die: 
Their  foolish  practices  had  made  them  wise. 
Wise  in  their  hearts,  though  foolish  in  their  eyes. 

*  burit'i  i.  c.  broken.  '  M-f"']  i.  »■  UtUteLti. 

'  Sllh]  i.  e.  liace. 


SOLOMON  PARAPHRASED.       413 


But  they,  alas  !  n'ere  dead,  to  worship  death. 
Senseless  in  worshipping  all  shadon'd  shows, 

Breathless  in  wasting  of  so  vain  a  breath, 

Dumb  in  performance  of  their  tongues'  suppose: 

They  in  adoring  death,  in  death's  behests, 

Were  punished  with  life  and  living  beasts. 

Thus  for  a  shew  of  beasts  they  substance  have,    14 
The  thing  itself  against  the  shadow's  will. 

Which    makes    the    shadows,    sad    woes   in   life's 
grave, 
As  nought  impossible  in  heaven's  skill: 

God  sent  sad  Ohs  for  shadows  of  lament, 

Lions  and  bears  in  multitudes  he  sent: 

Newly  created  beasts,  which  sight  ne'er  saw,        15 
Unknown,  which  neither  eye  nor  ear  did  know. 

To  breathe  out  blasts  of  fire  against  their  law, 
And  cast  out  smoke  with  a  tempestuous  blow ; 

Making  their  eyes  the  chambers  of  their  fears, 

Darting  forth  fire  as  lightning  from  the  spheres. 

Thus  marching  one  by  one,  and  side  by  side,        16 
By  the  profane,  ill-limn'd,  pale  spectacles, 

Making  both  Arc  and  fear  to  be  their  guide, 
Pull'd  down  their  vain-adoring  chronicles ; 

Then  staring  in  their  faces,  spic  forth  fire. 

Which  heats  and  cools  their  frosty-hot  desire  : 

Frosty  in  fear,  unfrosty  in  their  shame. 

Cool  in  lament,  hot  in  their  power's  disgraces  ; 

Like  lukewarm  coals,  half  kindled  with  the  flame, 
Sate  white  and  red  mustering  within  their  faces : 

The  beasts   themselves  did  not  so  much  dismay 

As  did  their  ugly  eyes'  aspects  decay  them. 


414       THE  WIIDOM  OP  SOLOUOIf  rASAPHSASta,^ 

Yet  wliat  are  beasts,  but  subiectB  u 

By  the  decree  of  heaven,  degree 
They  have  more  strength  than  he,  yet  more  he  can, 

He  having  reason's  store,  they  reason's  dearth  ; 
But  these  were  made  to  break  subjectiou's  rod. 
And  shew  the  stubbornness  of  man  to  God. 

Had  iliey  not  been  ordain'd  to  such  intent, 

God's  word  was  able  to  supplant  their  powers. 

And  root  out  them  which  were  to  mischief  bent. 
Willi   wrath   and  vengeance,  minutes  in  death'* 
hours ; 

Btit  God  doth  keep  a  full,  direct,  true  course. 

And  measures  pity's  love  with  mercy's  force. 

The  wicked  think*  God  hath  no  might  i 
Because  he  makes  no  show  of  what  hi 

When  God  is  loaih  to  give  their  pride  a  fall. 
Or  cloud  the  day  wherein  ihey  do  amiss; 

But  should  his  strength  he  shewn,  hii  anger 

Who  could  withstand  the  sun-caves  of  his  eyea 

Alas,  what  is  the  world  against  his  ire!  IG 

As  snowy  mountaini  'gainst  the  golden  sun, 

Forc'd  for  to  melt  and  thaw  with  frosty  fire. 
Fire  hid  in  frost,  though  frost  of  cold  begun : 

As  dew-distilling  drops  fall  from  the  morn, 

So  n[e]w  destruction's  claps  fall  from  his  scorn. 

But  his  revenge  lies  smother'd  in  his  smiles,         20 
His  wrath  lies  sleeping  in  his  mercy's  joy. 

Which  very  seldom  rise  at  mischiers  coils, 
And  will  not  wake  for  every  sinner's  toy : 

Boundless  his  mercies  are,  like  heaven's  grounds, 

They  have  no  limits  they,  nor  hcRven  no  bounds. 
■  (WbA]  Old  ed,  •'  ihiokes." 


rat         I 


e  prom  on  lory -top  of  his  true  love 
Is  like  the  end  of  ne?et-ending  sirea 
Like  Nilus'  watcr-springa,  which  inward  move, 

And  have  no  outward  shew  of  shadows'  beams  ■ 
God  Bees,  and  wilt  not  see,  the  sing  of  men. 
Because  they  should  amend :  amend !  O  when  ? 

The  mother  loves  the  issues  of  her  womb,  21 

As  doth  the  father  his  hegoiten  son  ; 

She  makes  her  lap  their  quiet-sleeping  tomb. 
He  seeks  to  care  for  hfe  which  new  begun : 

What  care  hath  He,  think,  then,  that  cares  for  all, 

For  ag^d  and  for  young,  for  great  and  small ! 

Is  not  that  father  careful,  fiU'd  with  care, 
Loving,  long-EufTering,  merciful,  and  kind. 

Which  made  with  love  all  things  that  in  love  are, 
Unmerciful  to  none,  to  none  unkind? 

Had  man  been  hateful,  man  had  never  been. 

But  perish'd  in  the  spring-time  of  his  green. 


But  how  can  hate  abide  where  I 

Or  how  can  anger  follow  mercy's  path  1 

How  can  unkindness  hinder  kindness'  gains  1 
Or  how  can  murder  bathe  in  pity's  bath? 

Love,  mercy,  kindness,  pity,  either'g  mate. 

Do*"  scorn  unkindness,  anger,  murder,  hate. 

Had  it  not  been  thy  will  to  make  the  earth,  2 

It  still  had  been  a  chaos  unto  time ; 
But  'twas  thy  will  that  man  should  have  a  birth, 

And  be  preserv'd  by  good,  condemn'd  by  crime 
Yet  pity  reigns  within  thy  mercies'  store, 
Thou  Bpar'st  and  lov'ai  us  all ;   what   would  w 
mgre? 

"  0=]  Old  ed.  "  Doib," 


CvAt.  SIl. 

When  all  the  clenientB  of  mortal  life 

Were  placed  in  the  mansion  of  their  akin, 

Each  having  daily  motion  to  bo  rife,'' 

Clos'd  in  ihat  body  which  dolh  close  them  in, 

God  sent  his  holy  Spirit  unto  man, 

Which  did  begin  when  first  the  world  began  : 

So  that  the  body,  which  was  king  of  all,  2 

1b  subject  unto  that  which  now  is  king. 

Which  chBBteneth  those  whom  mischief  doth  exhale, 
Unto  miadecds  from  whence  destructions  sprinjf : 

Yet  merciful  it  is,  though  it  be  chief. 

Converting  vice  lo  good,  sin  to  belief. 

Old  time  is  often  lost  in  being  bald. 

Bald,  because  old,  old,  because  living  longfl 

It  is  rejected  oft  when  it  ia  call'd ; 

And  wears  out  age  with  age,  still  being  young : 

Twice  children  we,  twice  feeble,  and  once  strong; 

But  being  old,  we  sin,  and  do  youth  wrong. 

The  more  we  grow  in  age,  the  more  in  vice, 
A  house-room  long  unswept  will  gather  dust ; 

Our  long-unthawM  souls  will  freeze  to  ice. 
And  wear  the  badge  of  long-imprison'd  rin 

So  those  inhabitants  in  youth  twice  born, 

Were  old  in  sin,  more  old  in  heaven's  acorn. 

Committing  worlre  as  inky  spots  of  fame, 

Commencing  words  like  foaming  vice's  waves, 

Committing  and  commencing  mischiers  name, 
With  works  and  words  sworn  to  be  vice's  slaves ; 

As  sorcery,  witchcraft,  mischievous  deeds, 

And  sacrifice,  which  wicked  fancies  feeds. 


Ici 


417 

Well  tnay  1  call  that  wicked  nhich  is  more,  5 

1  rather  would  be  low  than  be  too  high ; 

O  wondrous  practisera,  cloth'd  all  in  gore, 

To  end  that  life  which  their  own  lives  did  buy! 

More  than  swine-like  eating  man's  bowels  up, 

Their  banquet's  dish,  their  blood  their  banquet's  cup. 

Butchers  unnatural,  worse  by  their  trade,  6 

Whose  house  the  bloody  shambles  of  decay, 

More  than  a  slaughter-house  which  butchers  made, 
More  than  an  Eitchip,'^  secly*  bodies  prey  ; 

Thorough  whose  hearts  a  bloody  shambles  runs ; 

They  do  not  butcher  beasts,  but  their  own  sons. 

Chief  murderers  of  their  souls,  which  their  souls 
bought ;  7 

Extinguishers  of  light,  which  tlieir  lives  gave  ; 
More  than  knife-butchers  they,  butchers  in  Uioiight, 

Sextons  to  dig  their  own-begotten  grave; 
Making  their  habitations  old  in  sin, 
Which  God  doth  reconcile,  and  new  begin. 
That  murdering  place  was  turn'd  into  delight,        8 

That  bloody  slaughter-house  to  peace's  breast, 
That  lawless  palace  to  a  place  of  right. 

That  slaughtering  shambles  to  a  living  rest; 
Made  meet  for  justice,  fit  for  happiness. 
Unmeet  for  sin,  unlit  for  wickedness. 

Yet  the  inhabitants,  though  mischief's  slaves,  9 
Werenotdead-drench'dintheirdestruction's  flood; 

God  hop'd  to  raise  repentance  from  sins'  graves, 
Andhop'dthatpain's  delay  would  make  them  good; 

Not  that  he  was  unable  to  subdue  them,  . 

But  that  their  sins'  repentance  should  renew  them. 

'  Eichip]  A  familiar  corruption  of  Eati-chcap,  vbere,  as 
SiDiv  says.  Ku  ■  "  fieili-miiriiei  of  butcbera." 
"  leeiji]  See  note,  p.  392. 


WattOK  or  ROLOMOX  PARAPURjUU 

Delay  is  look  for  viriue  and  for  vice ; 

Delay  is  gnoil,  and  yet  delay  is  bad ; 
'Tis  virtue  when  it  thaws  repentance'  ic 

'Tis  vice  lo  put  ofT  things  we  have  or  had ;  I 
But  here  it  foilowelh  repentance'  way,  r 

Therefore  it  is  not  sin's  nor  mischief's  prey,  j 

Delay  in  punishment  is  double  pain. 

And  every  pain  makes  a  twice-double  ltion| 

Doubling  the  way  lo  our  lives'  better  gain, 
Doubling  repentance,  which  is  single  bought; 

For  fruitless  gratis,  when  they  are  too  much  lopt. 

More  fruitless  arc,  for  why  their  fruits  are  s 

So  fares  it  with  the  wicked  plants  of  sin, 
The  roots  of  mischief,  tops  of  villany; 

They  worser  are  with  too  much  punishing. 
Because  by  nature  prone  to  injury  ; 

For  'tis  hut  folly  to  supplant  his  thought 

Whose  heart  is  wholly  given  to  be  naught. 

These  seeded  were  in  seed,  O  cursed  plaai ! 

Seeded  with  other  seed,  O  cursed  root ! 
Too  much  of  good  doth  turn  unto  goo 

As  too  much  seed  doth  turn  to  too  much  ■ 
Bitler  in  taste,  presuming  of  their  height, 
Like  misty  vapours  in  hlack-colour'd  night. 

But  God,  whose  powerful  arms  one  strength  doth 
hold,  IS 

Scorning  to  stain  his  force  upon  their  faces. 
Will  send  his  mcssengeTS,  both  hot  and  cold. 

To  make  them  shadows  of  their  own  disgraces: 
His  hot  ambassador  is  fire,  his  cold 
Is  wind,  which  two  acorn  for  to  be  controll'd 


THE  WISDOM  OF  SOtOMON  PAHAPHRASED.       419 

For  who  dares  say  unto  the  King  of  kings. 

What  )iasC  thou  done,  which  ought  to  be  undone  ? 

Or  who  dares  stand  against  thy  judgment's  stings? 
Or  dare  accuse  thee  for  the  nation's  moan? 

Or  who  dare  say.  Revenge  this  ill  for  me? 

Or  stand  against  the  Lord  with  villany  ? 

What  he  hath  done  he  knows  ;  what  he  will  do    13 
He  weiglieth  with  the  balance  of  his  eyes  ; 

What  judgment  he  pronounceth  must  be  so, 
And  those  which  be  oppresaeth  cannot  rise : 

Revenge  lies  in  his  hands  when  he  doth  please ; 

He  can  revenge  and  love,  punish  and  ease. 

The  carved  spectacle  which  workmen  make 
Is  subject  unto  them,  not  they  to  it; 

Tbey  which  from  God  a  lively  form  do  take. 
Should  much  more  yield  unto  their  Maker's  wit ; 

Siih"  there  is  none  but  he  which  hath  his  thought. 

Caring  for  that  which  he  hath  made  of  nought. 

The  clay  is  subject  to  the  potter's  hands,  14 

Which  with  a  new  device  makes  a  new  moul ;' 

And  what  are  we,  I  pray,  but  clayey  bands, 
With  ashy  body,  join'd  to  cleaner  soul? 

Yet  we,  once  made,  acorn  to  be  made  again, 

But  live  in  sin,  like  clayey  lumps  of  pain. 

Yet  if  hot  .inger  smother  cool  delight, 

He'll  mould  our  bodies  in  destruction's  form. 

And  make  ourselves  as  subjects  to  his  might. 
In  the  least  fuel  of  his  anger's  storm  : 

Not  king  nor  tyrant  dare  ask  or  demand, 

What  punishment  is  this  thou  hast  in  hand  ? 


HE  WUDOM  OF  SOLOKOK  PARAPHSASBtl. 


We  all  are  captives  to  thy  regal  throne ; 

Our  [irison  is  the  earth,  our  bands  our  ains. 
Anil  our  accuser  our  own  body's  groan, 

Press'd  down  with  vice's  weights  and  mischtefi 
gins; 
Before  the  bar  of  heaven  we  plead  for  favour. 
To  cleanse  our  sin-bespotted  body's  savour. 

Thou  righteous  art,  our  pleading,  then,  it  right ; 

Thou  merciful,  we  hope  for  mercy's  grace; 
Thou  orderest  every  thing  with  look-on  sight. 

Behold  us,  prisoners  in  earth's  wandering  race; 
We  know  thy  pity  is  without  a  bound. 
And  sparest  them  which  in  some  faults  be  found. 


Thy  power  is  as  thyself,  nithout  an  end, 
Beginning  all  to  end,  yet  ending  nones 

Son  unto  virtue's  son,  and  nisdoro's  friend. 
Original  of  bliss  to  virtue  shewn  ; 

Beginning  good,  which  never  ends  in  vice  ; 

Beginning  flames,  which  nt 


For  righteousness  is  good  i 
It  righteous  is,  'tis  good 

A  lamp  it  is,  fed  with  disci 
Begins  in  seed,  but  neve 

By  this  we  know  the  Lord 

Which  causeth  him  to  spare 


JuBt,  because  justice  tveighs  whet  wisdom  thinks;  17 
Wise,  because  wisdom  thinks  what  justice  we^fas; 

One  virtue  makeih  two,  and  two  more  Hnka;    

Wisdom  is  just,  and  justice  never  strays  : 

The  help  of  one  doih  make  the  other  better, 

As  is  the  want  of  one  the  other's  letter. 


he  tries  : 


PAHAPHSASED.       421 

But  wisdom  hath  two  properties  in  wit, 
As  justice  hath  two  contraries  in  force  ; 

Heat  added  unto  heat  augmenteth  it, 

As  too  much  water  bursts  a  water- course ; 

God's  wisdom  too  much  prov'd  doth  breedGod's  hate, 

God's  justice  too  much  mov'd  breeds  God's  debate. 

Although  the  ashy  prison  of  fire -durst"  18 

Doth  keep  tlie  flaming  heat  imprison'd  in. 

Vet  sometime  will  it  burn,  when  flame  it  must, 
And  burst  the  ashy  cave  where  it  hath  bin;' 

So  if  God's  mercy  pass  the  bounds  of  mirth. 

It  is  not  mercy  then,  but  mercy's  dearth. 

Yet  how  can  love  breed  hate  without  hate's  love? 

God  doth  not  hate  to  love,  nor  love  to  hate ; 
His  equity  doth  every  action  prove. 

Smothering  with  love  that  spiteful  envy's  fate  ; 
For  should  the  toani^  of  anger  trace  his  brow, 
The  very  puffs  of  rage  would  drive  the  plough. 

But  God  did  end  his  toil  when  world  begun;        19 
Now  like  a  lover  studies  how  to  please, 

And  win  their  hearts  again  whom  mischief  won, 
Lodg'd  in  the  mansion  of  their  sin's  disease: 

He  made  each  mortal  man  two  ean,  two  eyes. 

To  hear  and  see  ;  yet  he  must  make  them  wise. 

If  imitation  should  direct  man's  life, 

'Tis  life  to  imitate  a  living  corse  ; 
The  thing's  example  makes  the  thing  more  rife;'' 

God  loving  is,  why  do  we  want  remorse  ?' 

'  firt-liiril]  Qy.  "firE-diul"!  '  ftin]  i.e.  been. 

•  Cram]  Old  ed.  "(cine"— b  word  of  commoti  occurrpnce 
in  our  earJicil  poetry,  but  doubiless  a  miipritit  here ;  compin 
p.  3<JE>,  t.  4,  and  p.  430,  I.  19 :  and  be  it  obserted,  that  id  the 
pKiuge  last  rcrerred  to  the  old  ed.  bii  "  Iceme." 

"  rifr]  Set  oole,  p.  358.  '  riaerte']  i.  e.  pity. 

VOL.  V.  0  0 


E  WISDOM  OF  SOLOMON  FAKAPHBAEED,    ' 


If  Bucli  a  boundless  ocean  of  good  deeds  20 

Should  have  such  influence  from  mercy's  streira, 

Kiising  both  good  and  ill,  flowers  and  needs. 
As  doth  the  sunny  flame  of  Titan's  beam ; 

A  greater  Tethys  then  should  mercy  be. 

In  flowing  unio  them  which  lovelh  thee. 

The  sun,  which  shines  in  heaven,  doth   light   the 
earth,  21 

The  earth,  which  shinesin  sin, doth  spite  the  heaven; 
Sin  is  earth's  sun,  the  sun  of  heaven  sin's  dearth. 

Both  odd  in  light,  being  of  height  not  even  : 
God's  mercy  then,  which  spares  both  good  and  ill, 
Doth  care  for  both,  though  not  alike  in  will. 


Can  vice  be  v 


r  viriue's  meat? 


Her  company  is  bad,  hei 
She  shames  to  sit  upon  her  betters'  s( 

As  subject  beasts  wanting  the  lion' 
Mercy  is  virtue's  badge,  foe  to  disdai 
Virtue  is  vice's  stop  and  mercy's  gain 


22 


Yet  God  i: 

More  m. 


ciful  to  mischief-floi 
leth  us,  and  punisheth  o 


ciful  ii 


4 


Like  sluggish  drones  amongst  a  labouring  ani : 
We  hope  for  mercy  si  our  bodies'  doom  j 
We  hope  for  heaven,  the  bail  of  earthly  tomb. 

What    hope    they    for,    what   hope   have   they    of 
heaven  ?  23 

They  hope  for  vice,  and  they  have  hope  of  hell. 
Prom  whence  their  souls'  eternity  is  given, 

But  such  eternity  which  pains  can  tell: 


They  live;  but  better  were  it  for  lo  die, 

Immortal  in  their  pain  and  misery. 

Hath  hell  such  freedom  to  devour  aouls  ? 

Are  souls  so  bold  to  rush  in  such  a  place  ? 
God  gives  hell  power  of  vice,  which  hell  controls; 

Vice  makes  her  followers  bold  with  armed  face ; 
God  tortures  both,  the  mistress  and  the  n 
And  ends  in  pain  that  which  in  vice  began. 

A  bad  beginning  makes  a  worser  end,  24 

Without  repentance  meet  the  middle  way, 

Making  a  mediocrity  their  friend. 

Which  else  would  be  their  foe,  because  they  stray : 

But  if  repentance  miss  the  middle  line. 

The  sun  of  virtue  ends  in  west's  decline. 

So  did  it  fare  with  these,  which  stray'd  too  far> 
Beyond  the  measure  of  the  mid'day'a  eye, 

In  error's  ways,  led  without  virtue's  star, 
Esteeming  beast-like  powers  for  deity  ; 

Whose  heart  no  thought  of  understanding  meant. 

Whose  tongue  no  word  of  understanding  sent: 

Like  infant  babes,  bearing  their  nature's  shell      '25 
Upon  the  tender  heads  of  tenderer  wit. 

Which  tongue-tied  are,  having  no  tale  to  tell. 
To  drive  away  the  childhood  of  their  fit; 

Unfit  to  tune  their  tongue  with  wisdom's  string, 

Too  fit  to  quench  their  thirst  in  folly's  spring. 

But  they  were  trees  to  babes,  bahes  sprigs  to  them, 
They  not  so  good  as  these,  in  being  nought ; 

In  being  nought,  the  more  from  vice's  stem. 
Whose  essence  cannot  come  without  a  thought: 

To  punish  them  is  punishment  in  season, 

They  children-like,  without  or  wit  or  reason. 


424 


E  WISDOM  OF  SOLOUON  PABAPKKASEI 


To  be  derided  is  to  be  half-dead. 

Derision  bears  a  pari  'tween  tiTc  and  deal 

Shame  follows  her  with  misery  half-fed, 

Half-breathing  life,  to  make  half-life  and  breaili : 

Yet  here  was  mercy  ihewn,  their  deeds  were  more 

Than  could  be  nip'd  off  by  derision's  score. 

This  mercy  is  the  warning  of  misdeeds, 
A  trurnpet  summoning  to  virtue's  wrIIs, 

To  notify  their  hearts  which  mischief  feeds, 

Whom  vice  instructs,  whom  wickedness  exhales: 

But  if  derision  cannot  murder  sin. 

Then  shame  shall  end,  and  punishment  begin. 

For  many  shameless  are,  bold,  sloul  in  ill ;  2T 

Then  how  can  shame  take  rooi  in  shameless  plants. 

When  they  their  brows  with  shameless  furrows  fill, 
And  plough'  each  place  which  one  plough-furrow 
wants? 

Then  being  arm'd  'gainst  shame  with  shameless  face, 

How  can  derision  take  a  shameful  place? 

But  punishment  may  smooth  their  wrinkled  brow. 

And  set  shame  on  llie  forehead  of  their  rage. 
Guiding  the  fore-front  of  that  shameless  row, 

Making  it  smooih  in  shame,  though  not  iuA 
Then  will  they  say  that  God  is  Just  and  trucM 
But  'tis  too  late,  damnation  will  enau 

Chap.  XIII. 
The  branch  must  needs  be  weak,  if  root  be  so,       1    ' 

The  root  must  needs  be  weak,  if  branches  fall ; 
Nature  is  vain,  man  cannot  be  her  foe. 

Because  from  nature  and  at  nature's  call: 
Nature  is  vain,  and  we  proceed  from  nature, 
Vain  therefore  is  our  birth,  and  vain  our  feature. 
I  p/Mfff'O  Old  ed.  "  plows.' 


I 


One  body  may  have  two  disi 

Not  being  two,  it  may  be  join'd  to  two  ; 
Nature  is  one  itself,  yet  two  and  more. 

Vain,  ignorant  of  God.  of  good,  of  show. 
Which    not    regards    the  things   which  God    hath 

And  what  things  are  to  do,  what  new  begun. 


>e,  when  'tia  the  leaves  ?      3 
for  her  mortal  men  ? 
she,  'tis  she  that  weaves, 
pen: 


Why  do  I  blame  the 

Why  blame  I  natu 
Why  blame  I  men  ? 

That  weaves,  that  wafts  unto  destructi 
Then,  being  blameful  both,  because  both 
I  leave  to  both  their  vanity's  due  pain. 

To  priKe  the  shadow  at  the  substance'  rate, 
Is  a  vain  substance  of  a  shadow's  hue; 

To  think  the  son  lo  be  the  father's  mate. 

Earth  to  rule  earth  because  of  earthly  view ; 

To  think  fire,  wind,  air,  stars,  water,  and  heaven. 

To  be  as  gods,  from  whom  their  selves  arc  given  : 

Fire  as  a  god  ?  O  irreligious  sound !  3 

Wind  83  a  god  ?  O  vain,  O  vainest  voice  ! 

Air  as  a  god  ?  when  'tis  but  dusky  ground ; 
Star  as  a  goti  ?  when  'tis  but  Phoebe's  choice ; 

Water  a  god  ?  which  first  by  God  was  made  ; 

Heaven  a  god?  which  first  by  God  was  laid. 

Say  all  hath  beauty,  excellence,  array. 

Yet  beautified  they  are,  they  were,  they  be. 

By  God's  bright  excellence  of  brightest  day. 
Which  first  implanted  our  first  beauty's  tree  : 

If  then  the  painted  outside  of  the  show 

Be  radiant,  what  is  the  inward  row  t 


niE  WISDOM  OF 


PAEAPRftAank. 


If  iliat  ilie  sfiadnw  of  tlip  body's  akin  4 

Be  so  illumin'd  with  (lie  lun-shin'd  sodI, 

What  is  tlie  ihin;^  iiselT  vflilch  i.t  within, 
More  wrench'd.^more  cleani'd,  more  purified  from 
foul? 

If  etetnental  powers  have  God's  thought. 

Say  what  is  God,  which  made  thetn  ^  of  bi 

It  is  a  wonder  for  to  sec  the  sky, 

And  operation  of  each  airy  power; 
A  marvel  that  the  heaven  should  be  so  high. 

And  let  fall  such  a  low-disiilhng  shower: 
Then  needs  must  He  be  high,  higher  than  all. 
Which  made  both  high  and  low  with  one  tongue's  call. 

The  workman  mightier  is  than  his  hand-work,  .'i 
In  making  that  which  else  would  be  unmade; 

The  ne'er-ihoughi  thing  doth  always  hidden  lurk. 
Without  the  maker  in  a  making  trade: 

For  had  not  God  made  man,  man  had  not  beent 

But  nature  had  decay 'd,  and  ne'er  been  seen. 

The  workman  never  shewing  of  his  skill 
Doth  live  unknown  to  man,  though  known  d 

Had  mortal  birth  been  never  in  God's  will, 
God  had  been  God,  but  yet  unknown  in  it; 

Then  having  made  the  glory  of  earth's  beaucy, 

'Tia  reason  earth  should  reverence  him  in  duty. 

The  savage  people  have  a  supreme  head, 
A  king,  though  savage  as  his  subjects  are 

Vet  they  with  his  observances  are  led. 
Obeying  his  behests,  whate'er  they  were : 

The  Turks,  the  Infidels,  all  have  a  lord, 

Whom  they  observe  in  thought,  in  deed,  in  word. 

''  iiTCBp/i'i(]  i.  e.  perhaps,  ringed. 


r! 


And  shall  we,  differing  from  their  savage  kind, 
Having  a  soul  to  live  and  to  believe. 

Be  rude  in  thought,  in  deed,  in  word,  in  mind, 
Not  seeking  him  which  should  our  woea  relieve? 

O  no,  dear  brethren!  seek  our  God,  our  fame, 

Tlien  if  we  err,  we  shall  have  lesser  blame. 

How  can  we  err  1  we  seek  for  ready  way  ;  7 

O  that  my  tons^ue  could  feicli  that  word  again! 

Whose  very  accent  makes  me  go  astray. 
Breathing  that  erring  wind  into  my  brain  : 

My  word  is  past,  and  cannot  be  recall'd  ; 

It  is  like  aged  time,  ntfw  waxen  bald. 

For  they  which  go  astray  in  seeking  God 
Do  miss  the  joyful  narrow-fooled  path  — 

Joyful,  thrice-joyful  way  to  his  abode  I  — 
Nought  seeing  but  their  shadows  in  a  bath  ; 

Narcisstis-like,  pining  to  see  a  show. 

Hindering  the  passage  which  their  feet  should  go. 

Narcissus  fantasy  did  die  to  kiss,  8 

O  sugar'd  kiss  I  died  wiiU  a  poison'd  lip  ; 

The  fantasies  of  these  do  die  to  miss, 
O  tossdd  fantasies  in  folly's  ship! 

He  died  to  kiss  the  shadow  of  his  face ; 

These  live  and  die  to  life's  and  death's  disgrace. 

A  fault  without  amends,  crime  without  ease,  9 

A  sin  without  excuse,  death  without  aid  ; 

To  love  the  world,  and  what  the  world  did  please, 
To  know  the  earth,  wherein  their  sins  are  laid  : 

They  knew  the  world,  but  not  the  Lord  that  fram'd 
it; 

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


WISDOU  OF  SOLOMON  FAttAPHttASED. 


Narciaaug  ilrown'd  Iitm self  for  his  self's  show,      10 

Striving  (o  heal  himself  did  himself  harm; 
These  drotrn'd  themselves  on  earth  with  their  selres' 

He  in  a  water-brook  by  fury's  charm  ; 
They  made  dry  earth  wet  with  their  folly's  weeping. 
He  made  wet  earth  dry  with  his  fury's  sleeping. 

Then  leave  him  to  hia  sleep;  return  to  those 
Which  ever  wake  in  misery's  conaiTainls, 

Whose  eyes  are  hollow  caves  and  made  sleep's  foes, 
Two  dungeons  dark  with  sin,  blind  wiih  com- 
plafnt.  : 

They  called  images  which  man  first  found 

Immortal  gods,  for  which  their  tongues  are  bound. 

11 


Gold  was  a  god  with  them,  a  golden  god  ; 

Like  children  in  a  pageant  of  gay  loys. 
Adoring  images  for  saints'  abode  ; 

O  vain,  vain  spectacles  of  vainer  joy i ! 
Putting  their  hope  in  blocks,  their  trust  in  8' 
Hoping  to  trust,  trusting  to  hope  in  moans. 

As  when  a  carpenter  cuts  down  a  tree. 
Meet  for  to  make  a  vessel  for  man's  use. 

He  parcth  all  the  bark  most  cunningly 

With  the  sharp  shaver  of  his  knife's  abus^  1 

Kipping  the  seely-l  womb  with  no  entreat,         T 

Making  her  woundy  chips  to  dress  his  meat: 

Her  body's  bones  are  oden  tough  and  hard,  13 

Crooked  with  age's  growth,  growing  with  crooks. 

And  full  of  weather-chinks,  which  seasons  marr'd, 
Knobby  and  rugged,  bending  in  like  hooks|.> 

Yet  knowing  age  can  never  want  a  fault, 

"^  '    with  a  sharp  knife's  assault ; 

1  iffly]  See  note,  p.  392. 


1 


FABArHitAS£i>.     429 

And  carves  it  well,  though  it  be  self-like  ill,  14 
Observing  leisure,  keeping  time  and  place; 

According  to  the  cunning  of  his  ekill, 
Making  the  figure  of  a  mortal  face. 

Or  like  some  ugly  beast  in  ruddy  mould. 

Hiding  each  cranny  nith  a  painter's  fold. 

It  is  a  world  to  see,"  to  mark,  to  view,  15 

How  age  can  botch  up  age  with  crooked  thread ; 

How  hiB  old  hands  can  make  an  old  tree  new, 
And  dead-likt;  he  can  make  another  dead! 

Yet  makes  a  substantive  able  to  bear  it, 

And  she  an  adjective,  nor  sec  nor  hear  it. 

A  wall  it  is  itself,  yet  wall  with  wall  16 

Hath  great  supportance,  bearing  either  part ; 

The  image,  like  an  adjective,  would  fall, 
Were  it  not  closed  with  an  iron  heart : 

The  workman,  being  old  himself,  doth  know 

What  great  infirmities  old  age  can  shew. 

Therefore,  to  stop  the  river  of  extremes,  17 

He  burst  into  the  flowing  of  his  wit. 

Tossing  his  brains  with  more  than  thousand  themes. 
To  have  a  wooden  stratagem  so  lit : 

Wooden,  because  it  doth  belong  to  wood  ; 

His  purpose  may  be  wise,  his  reason  good : 

His  purpose  wise  1  no,  foolish,  fond,'  and  vain  ; 

His  reason  good?  no,  wicked,  vild,™  and  ill ; 
To  be  the  author  of  his  own  life's  pain. 

To  be  the  tragic  actor  of  his  will ; 
Praying  to  that  which  he  before  had  fram'd. 
For  welcome  faculties,  and  not  asbam'd. 


430       THE  WIBSOU  OF  BOLOUON  PAKAFHKASED. 

C&lling  to  folly  for  discretion's  sense. 

Calling  I9  sickness  for  sick  body's  health, 

Calling  10  weakness  for  a  stronger  fence, 
Calling  to  poverty  for  better  tvealth  ; 

Praying  to  death  for  life,  for  this  he  pray'd, 

Requiring  help  of  that  nhicb  nanteth  aid ; 

Desiring  that  of  it  which  he  not  had,  19 

And  for  his  journey  ihal  which  cannot  go; 

And  for  Ills  gain  her  furtherance,  to  make  glad 
The  work  which  he  doth  take  in  hand  to  do: 

These  windy  words  do  rush  against  the  wall ; 

She  cannot  speak,  'twill  sooner  make  her  fall. 

Ch*f.  XIV. 
As  doth  one  little  spnrk  make  a  great  flame,  I 

Kindled  from  forth  the  hoaora  of  the  flint; 
Ab  doih  one  plague  infei't  with  it  self  name. 

With  watery  humours  making  bodies'  dint; 
So,  even  so,  this  idol- worshipper 
Doth  make  another  idoUpractiser. 

The  shi|>man  cannot  team  danic  Teihys'  navea 
Within  a  wind-taught  capering  anchorage. 

Before  he  prostrate  lies,  and  suflTrage  craves, 
And  hove  a  block  to  be  his  fortune's  gage  : 

More  crooked  than  his  stem,  yet  he  implores  her ; 

More  rotten  than  his  ship,  yet  he  adores  her. 

Who  made  this  form  7  he  thai  ivas  form'd  and  made ; 

'Twas  avarice,  'twas  she  thai  found  it  out ;     2,  S 
She  made  her  craftsman  crafty  in  his  trade, 

He  cunning  was  in  bringing  it  about; 
O,  had  he  made  the  painted  show  to  s|>eak, 
It  would  have  call'd  him  vain,  herself  to  wreak  1 


1 


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


TBE  WISDOU  OF  EOLOUON  PARAPHRASED.       431 

Thy  providence,  O  father  I  dolh  decree 

A  BUre,  sure  way  amongst  ll>e  waves  to  rush  ; 
Thereby  declaring  that  thy  power  is  such, 
That  though  a  man  were  weak,  thou  canst  do  much. 
What  is  one  single  bar  to  doubk'  death  ?  5 

One  death  in  cicatli,  (he  other  death  in  Tear; 
This  single  bar  a  board,  a  poor  board's  breath," 

Yet  stops  the  passage  ol'each  Neptune's  tear  : 
To  see  how  many  lives  one  board  can  have, 
To  see  how  many  lives  one  board  can  save ! 
How  was  this  board  first  made?  by  wisdom's  art. 

Which  is  not  vain,  but  firm,  not  weak,  but  sure ; 
Therefore  do  men  commit  their  living  heart 

To  planks  which  either  life  or  death  procure; 
Cutting  the  storms  in  two,  parting  the  wind, 
Ploughing  the  sea  till  they  their  harbour  find: 
The  sea,  whose  mountain-billows,  passing  bounds,  6 

Rusheth  upon  the  hollon-sided  bark. 
With  rough-sent  kisses  from  the  water-grounds. 

Raising  a  foaming  heat  with  rage's  spark : 
\et  sea  nor  naves  can  make  the  shipraan  fear ; 
He  knows  that  die  be  must,  he  cares  not  where. 
For  had  bin  timorous  heart  been  dy'd  in  W'bite, 

And  sent  an  echo  of  resembling  woe, 
Wisdom  had  been  unknown  in  folly's  night. 

The  sea  had  been  a  desolation's  show ; 
But  one  world,  hope,"  lay  hovering  on  the  sea. 
When  one  world's  bap  did  end  with  one  decay. 
Yet  Phccbus,  drownM  in  the  ocean's  world, 

Phoebe  disgrsc'd  with  Tethys'  billot 
And  Phtcbus'  fiery-golden  wreath  uncurl'd, 

Was  sealed  at  the  length  in  brightneuM 

-   fi.,oM]   i. 


bM^«*f*  »-»..«■>  1 1    I    il; 


ttaa*«*i*bdiia  *im  tmmta 


B*  •  aib  *>^  •«  ^'^  €i_l  tad 


an  «  man-,  dr. 


»>»-*>>  ■rri- 


lh_  ^»«  *»  II    I    V  r«ik  hack. 


-£ta...^«ila^* 


M^M«iB«S*  ^i«k«  I /ii  III   tack.-*  P.4 
^a^HaH«ft«fHB^«<«4fMia^iBmacWf  toji  - 

■  dM  ^  HH>  if*a>  irnH*^  Won  [Ml  riirfiii  pi 


i'HB  WiaoOU  OF  SOLOUOK  PAKAPHRABED.       433 


Beliold  tity  downfal  ready  at  thy  hand, 
Behold  thy  hopes  wherein  thy  hazards  stand! 
0,  spurn  away  that  block  out  of  thy  way. 

With  virtue's  appetite  and  wisdom's  force ! 
That  stumbling-block  of  folly  and  decay. 

That  snare  which  doth  ensnare  thy  treading  corse: 
Behold,  thy  body  falls  !  let  virtue  bear  it; 
Behold,  thy  soul  doth  fall !  let  wisdom  rear  it. 

Say,  art  thou  young  or  old,  tree  or  a  bud  ?  1 1 

Thy  face  is  so  disfigured  with  sin : 
Young  I  do  think  thou  art;  in  what?  in  good; 

But  old,  1  am  assur'd,  by  wrinkled  skin : 
Thy  lips,  tliy  tongue,  thy  heart,  is  young  in  praying, 
But  lips,  and  tongue,  and  heart,  is  old  in  straying : 

Old  in  adoring  idols,  but  too  young 

In  the  observance  of  divinest  law  ; 
Young  in  adoring  God,  though  old  in  tongue ; 

Old  and  too  old,  young  and  too  young  in  awe  ; 
Beginning  that  which  doth  begin  misdeeds, 
Inventing  vice,  which  all  thy  body  feeds. 
But  this  corrupting  and  infecting  food,  12 

This  calerpiilar  of  eternity. 
The  foe  to  bliss,  the  canker  unto  good, 

The  new-accuatom'd  way  of  vanity, 
It  hath  not  ever  been,  nor  shall  it  be, 
But  perish  in  the  branch  of  folly's  tree. 

As  her  descent  was  vanity's  alline,''  13 

So  her  descending  like  to  ber  descent ; 

Here  shall  she  have  an  end,  in  hell  no  fine. 
Vain-glory  brought  her  vainly  to  be  spent : 

You  know  all  vanity  draws  to  an  end ; 

Then  needs  must  she  decay,  because  her  friend. 
1  aUht]  i.  e.  sllj. 


t»»Jtfc  I     1  I 


16 


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


THE  WISDOM  OF  SOLOUON  PARArUKASED.       433 

Then  to  avoid  llie  doom  of  present  hate, 

Their  absence  did  perform  their  presence'  want, 

Makin;;  the  image  of  a  kingly  state. 

As  if  they  had  new  seed  from  sin's  old  plant; 

Flattering  the  absence  of  old  mischiers  mother 

With  the  like  form  and  presence  of  another  : 

Making  an  absence  with  a  present  sight,  IT 

Or  rather  presence  with  an  absent  view; 

Deceiving  vulgars  with  a  day  of  night. 

Which  know  not  good  from  bad,  nor  false  from 
true; 

A  craftsman  cunning  in  his  crafty  trade,. 

Beguiling  them  with  that  which  he  had  made. 

Like  as  a  vane  is  lurn'd  wiili  every  blast, 

Until  it  point  unto  the  windy  clime, 
So  stand  the  people  at  his  word  aghast, 

He  making  old-new  form  in  new-old  time; 
DeGes  and  deifies  all  with  one  breath, 
Making  them  live  and  die,  and  all  in  death. 

They,  like  to  Tantalus,  are  fed  with  shows,  18 

Shoivs  which  exasperate,  and  cannot  cure ; 

They  see  the  painted  shadow  of  suppose, 

They  see  her  sight,  yet  what  doth  sight  procure  1 

Like  Tantalus  they  feed,  and  yet  they  starve ; 

Their  food  is  carv'd  to  thetn,  yet  hard  to  carve. 

The  crailsman  feeds  them  with  a  starving  meat 
Which  doth  not  All,  but  empty,  hunger's  gape; 

He  makes  the  idol  comely,  fair,  and  great. 

With  well-limn'd  visage  and  best-fashion'd  shape. 

Meaning  to  give  it  to  some  noble  vieiv. 

And  feign  his  beauty  with  that  flattering  hue. 


43C 


E  WtBDOU  o;  SOLOMOM  PAHArUKASED. 


Enamour'd  nith  tbe  sight,  the  people  grew 

To  divers  appAritJons  of  delight ; 
Some  did  admire  the  portraituTe  so  new, 

Hew'd  from  the  Btandard  of  an  old  tree's  height ; 
Some  were  allur'd  through  beauty  of  ihe  face, 
With  outward  eye  to  work  tbe  soul's  disgrace  : 

Adored  like  a  god,  though  made  by  man ;  ^| 

To  make  a  god  of  man,  a  man  of  god,  ^| 

'Tie  more  than  human  life  or  could  or  can,  ^1 

Though  multitudes'  applause  in  error  trode : 

1  never  knew,  since  mortal  lives  abod. 

That  man  could  make  a  man,  much  less  a  god. 

Ves,  rnan  can  make  his  shame  without  a  maker,  SO 
Borrowing  the  essence  from  restorM  sin ; 

Man  can  be  virtue's  foe  and  vice's  taker. 
Welcome  himself  without  a  welcome  in  : 

Can  he  do  this  T  yea,  more  ;  O  shameless  ill ! 

Shameful  in  shame,  thamelcss  in  wisdom's  will. 


The  river  of  bis  vice  can  have  no  bound. 
But  breaks  into  the  ocean  of  deceit ; 

Deceiving  life  with  measures  of  dead  ground, 
With  carved  idols,  disputation's  bait; 

Making  captivity,  clotb'd  all  in  moan, 

Be  subject  to  a  god  made  of  a  stone. 


Too    stony    hearts    had    they    which    made 

law ;  HI 

O,  had  ihey  been  as  stony  as  the  name. 
They  never  had  brought  vulgars  in  such  awe, 

To  be  destruction's  prey  and  mischief's  game  I 
Had  they  been  atone-dead  both  in  look  and  favour, 
They  never  had  made  life  of  such  a  savour. 


I 


WtaHOM  OF  SOLOUON  PARAPHRASED.       437 


Yet  was  not  this  a  too-sufBcient  doom, 

Sent  TrGm  the  root  of  their  sin-o'ergrown  tongue, 
To   cloud  God's    knowledge  with    heil- mischief's 

To  overthrow  truth's  right  with  falsehood's  wrong  : 
But  daily  practised  a  perfect  way, 
Still  to  begin,  and  never  end  to  atray. 

For  either  murder's  paw  did  gripe  their  hearts,    22 
With  whispering  horrors  drumming  in  each  ear. 

Or  other  villaniea  did  play  their  parts, 
Augmenting  horror  to  new-strucken  fear ; 

Making  their  hands  more  than  a  sb arables'  stall, 

To  slay  their  children  ceremonial. 

No  place  was  free  from  stain  of  blood  or  vice  ;    23 
Their  life  was  niark'd  for  death,  their  soul  for  sin, 

Marriage  for  fornication's  thawed  ice, 

Thought  for  despair,  body  for  either's  gin  : 

Slaughter  did  either  end  what  life  begun. 

Or  lust  did  end  what  both  had  left  undone. 

The  one  was  sure,  although  the  other  fail,  21 

For  vice  hath  more  competitors  than  one  ; 

A  greater  iroop  doth  evermore  avail. 
And  villany  is  never  found  alone  : 

The  blood-hound  follows  that  which  slaughter  kill'd, 

And  thet^  doth  follow  what  deceit  hath  spill'd/ 

Corruption,  mate  to  in^delity,  2r> 

For  that  which  is  unfaithful  is  corrupt ; 

Tumults  are  schoolfellows  to  perjury, 

For  both  are  full  when  either  one  hath  supt ; 

Unthankfulness,  defiling,  and  disorders. 

Are  fornication's  and  uncleanness'  borders. 
'  ifdU'il]  i.  e.  dcatrayed. 


ItrriYV^fMH-i  MM.-;  pn-s  finl  iMwA. 


"       *    '  *  '  ofdespur; 

■h»(  jroa  were. 

^|fa«,  looik  ^on  the  qpcctade  of  ibaune,  28 

TW  wcII-GaB'd  inage  of  as  31-lunn'd  thouglit; 
gs^are  jm  woftbj  bow  oT  praise  or  bUioe, 

Yob  wme  fceart-iic^  before  I  lei  yon  blood, 
Bat  now  heait-w^  liocc  I  have  dooe  you  good. 


THE  WISDOM  OF  SOLOMON  FARAPHKABED.       439 


Now  wipe  blind  folly  from  your  seeing  eyes. 
And  drive  destruction  from  your  happy  mind; 
lot  foolish- wise, 
B,  not  mischief  blind  ; 
I  idols,  they  deceiv'd  you  ; 
a  God,  and  he  r      '  ' ' 


Your  folly  n 

Destruction  happin« 
You  put  your  ti 
You  put  your  li 


a  you. 


Had  not  repentance  grounded  on  your  souls,        2£ 
The  climes  of  good  or  ill,  virtue  or  nice, 

Had  it  not  flow'd  into  the  tongue's  enrolls. 
Ascribing  mischief's  hate  with  good  advice ; 

Your  tongue  had  spill'd'  your  soul,  your  soul  youi 
tongue. 

Wronging  each  function  with  a  double  wrong. 


t  attempt  was  placed  in  a  show, 
ary  show,  without  a  deed; 
attempt  was  perjury,  the  foe 


Your  fin 

Imagi. 

The  nex 

,Toju> 

1  wo  sins,  two  punishments,  and  one  in  two, 
Make'  two  in  one,  and  more  than  one  can  do: 

Four  scourges  from  one  pain,  all  comes  from  sin  ;   30 
Single,  yet  double,  double,  yet  in  four ; 

It  slays  the  soul,  it  hems  the  body  in, 

It  spills  the  mind,  it  doth  the  heart  devour ; 

Gnawing  upon  the  thoughts,  feeding  on  blood, 

For  why  she  lives  in  sin,  but  dies  in  good. 

She  taught  their  souls  to  stray,  their  tongues  to 

Their  thought  to  think  amiss,  their  life  to  die. 
Their  heart  to  err,  their  mischief  to  appear. 

Their  head  to  sin,  their  feet  to  tread  awry  : 
This  scene  might  well  have  been  destruction's  tent, 
To  pay  with  pain  what  sin  with  joy  hath  spent. 

•  ipill'd']  i.  e.  dotlrojed.         '  Sfaki]  Old  ed.  "  Jlakes." 


■  IwMg  al-my  yaMig, 
not  uviBg  n^Hf  BOf  €Ter  oncno^  piuu^- 

So  this  is  tBoderator  of  God'i  ra^, 

Psrdouig  lliow  deed*  wtiidi  ««  in 
ThM  if  wc  sin.  At  ia  ear  bttAom't  ^^e. 

And  wc  KiD  ibine,  ilxHigfa  Is  be  thnw  mfil : 
In  Mng  ifame,  O  Liinl,  we  wUI  not  sin. 
That  wc  tfay  palirace.  gntx,  uid  tnttb,  nay  win  I 

O  gnnt  us  patience,  in  nhose  graot  we  rest,  3 

To  right  our  wroDg.  and  aat  to  wroog  the  right ! 

Give  ua  thjr  grace,  O  Lord,  to  make  us  blest, 
That  erace  might  bleta,  and  blits  might  grace  our 
»igh[ ! 

Make  our  beginning  and  our  «e(]uel  truth, 

To  make  us  young  in  age,  and  grave  in  youth ! 


i 


THE  WISDOM  OF  SOLOMON  P 


We  know  that  our  demands  rest  in  thy  will ; 

Our  will  rests  in  thy  word,  our  word  in  thee  ; 
Thou  in  our  orisons,  which  dost  fultil 

That  wished  action  which  we  wish  to  be ; 
'Tis  perfect  righteousness  to  know  thee  right, 
'Tis  immortality  to  know  thy  might. 

In  knowing  thee,  we  know  both  good  and  ill,         4 
Good    to    know    good    and    ill,    ill    to    know 
none; 

In  knowing  all,  we  know  thy  sacred  will. 
And  what  to  do,  and  what  to  leave  undone: 

We  are  deceiv'd,  not  knowing  to  deceive; 

In  knowing  good  and  ill,  we  lake  and  leave. 

The  glass  of  vanity,  deceit,  and  shows,  5 

The  painter's  labour,  the  beguiling  face. 

The  diver s-colour'd  image  of  suppose. 

Cannot  deceive  the  substance  of  thy  grace  ; 

Only  a  snare  to  those  of  common  wit. 

Which  covets  to  be  like,  in  having  it. 

The  greedy  lucre  of  a  witless  brain,  6 

This  feeding  avarice  on  senseless  mind, 

Is  rather  hurt  than  good,  a  loss  than  gain. 
Which  covets  for  lo  lose,  and  not  to  6nd ; 

So  they  were  coloured  witli  such  a  face. 

They  would  not  care  to  lake  the  idol's  place. 

Then  be  your  thoughts  coherent  to  your  words, 
Your  words  as  correspondent  to  your  thought ; 

'Tis  reason  you  should  have  what  love  affords, 
And  trust  in  that  which  love  so  dearly  bought: 

The  maker  must  needs  love  what  he  hath  made. 

And  the  desirer's  free  of  either  trade. 


44S     rHE  wiiDoii  at  cntoHox  PAKAraxAsut. 

Mbo,  ihoa  waat  Bade ;  krt  thou  a  maker  now  t  7 
Yea,  'm  thj  trnde.  for  ckon  a  pouer  art, 

Tmniiiiiiig  aoft  canfa,  wkiag  the  day  lo  boir ; 
B«  dBfCT  ilxNi  doU  bear  too  ■tout  a  beari : 

Tbe  dav  ia  ntiiriilB  U  thjr  ngoroas  hands ; 

Thoa  cuy  too  loagh  agaiaat  thy  God's  comautnds. 

If  tboa  waDi'n  slnne,  behoU  ihy  slimy  faulta ; 

If  thou  want'R  day,  bcboM  thy  dayey  breast; 
Make  ibem  to  be  the  deepen  centre's  vaults. 

And  tet  all  clayey  raoontains  alcep  in  rest : 
Tboa  beai'H  an  earthly  monntam  on  thy  back. 
Thy  heart's  duef  prison^hoote,  thy  soul's  chid 
mack. 

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

0  mids  of  miacbief,  tn  destruciioo  sod! 

0  rainest  labour,  in  a  vainer  pUy  ! 
Man  is  the  greatest  work  which  God  did  lake, 
And  yet  a  god  with  man  it  Dought  to  make. 

He  that  was  made  of  earth  would  make  a  heaven, 
If  heaven  may  be  made  upon  the  earth  ; 

Sin's  heirs,  the  airs,  sin's  planu,  the  plauels  seveo, 
Their  god  a  clod,  his  birth  true  virtue's  dearth : 

Remeinber  whence  you  came,  whither  jou  go ; 

Of  earth,  in  earth,  from  earth  lo  esilh  in  woe. 

No,  quoth  the  potter  \  as  1  have  been  clay,  M 

So  will  1  end  with  what  I  did  begin ;  fl 

1  am  of  earth,  and  I  do  what  earth  may ;  ^ 

1  am  of  dust,  and  therefore  will  I  sin  : 

My  life  is  shon,  what  then  ?  I'll  make  it  looger  ; 
My  life  is  weak,  what  then  t  I'll  make  it  stronger. 


I 


FA&APHKASES.       443 


Long  shall  it  live  in  vice,  though  short  in  length, 
And  fetch  immortal  steps  from  mortal  slops ; 

Strong  shall  it  be  in  aio,  though  weak  in  strength, 
Like  mounting  eagles  an  high  mountains'  tops  ; 

My  honour  shall  be  placM  in  deceit, 

And  counterfeit  new  shews  of  little  weight. 

My  pen  doth  almost  blash  at  this  reply,  10 

And  fain  would  call  him  wicked  to  his  face; 

Hut  then  his  breath  would  answer  with  a  He, 
And  stain  my  ink  with  an  untruth's  disgrace : 

Thy  master  bids  thee  write,  the  pen  says  no ; 

But  when  thy  master  bids,  it  must  be  so. 

Call  his  heart  ashes,— O,  too  mild  a  name! 

Call  his  hope  vile,  more  viler  than  the  earth  ; 
Call  his  life  weaker  than  a  clayey  frame ; 

Call  his  bespotted  heart  an  ashy  hearth  : 
Ashes,  earth,  clay,  conjoin'd  to  heart,  hope,  life. 
Are  features'  love,  in  being  nature's  strife. 

Thou  might'st  have  chose  more  stinging  words  than 
these,  II 

For  this  he  knows  he  is,  and  more  than  less  ; 
In  saying  what  he  is,  thou  dost  appease 

The  foaming  anger  which  his  thoughts  suppress  : 
Who  knows  not,  if  the  best  be  made  of  clay. 
The  worst  must  needs  be  clad  in  foul  array  1 

Thou,  in  performing  of  thy  master's  will, 

Doat  teach  him  to  ohey  his  lord's  commands ; 

But  he  repugnant  is,  and  cannot  skill 

Of  true  adoring,  with  h^rt-heav'd-up  hand: 

He  hath  a  soul,  a  life,  a  breath,  a  name, 

Yet  be  is  ignorant  from  whence  they  came. 


444      THE  WISDOM  OF  60LOUON  PAftAFUKABBD. 

My  soul,  saith  be,  is  but  a  map  of  eHows,  IS 

No  substance,  but  a  shadow  for  to  please ; 

My  life  doth  pass  even  as  a  pastiine  goes, 
A  momentary  time  to  live  at  ease ; 

My  breath  a  vapour,  and  my  name  of  earth, 

Eacb  one  decaying  of  the  other's  birth. 

Our  conversation  best,  for  there  is  gains. 
And  gain  is  best  in  conversation's  prime; 

A  mart  of  lucre  in  our  conscience  reigns. 
Our  thoughts  as  busy  agents  for  the  time: 

So  we  get  gain,  ensnaring  simple  men, 

It  is  no  matter  how,  nor  where,  nor  when. 

We  care  not  how,  for  all  misdeeds  are  ours  ;  13 
We  care  not  wliere,  if  before  God  or  man  ; 

We  care  not  when,  but  when  our  crafls  have  powers 
In  measuring  deceit  with  mischief's  fan  ; 

For  wherefore  have  we  life,  form,  and  ordaining. 

But  that  we  should  deceive,  and  still  be  gaining  ? 

I,  made  of  earth,  have  made  all  earthen  sfaops, 
And  what  I  sell  is  all  of  earthy  sale ; 

My  pots  have  earthen  feet  and  earthen  tops, 
In  like  resemblance  of  my  body's  veil ; 

But  knowing  to  offend  the  heavens  more, 

1  made  frail  images  of  earthy  store. 

O  bold  accuser  of  his  own  misdeeds  !  14 

O  heavy  clod,  more  than  the  earth  con  bear .' 

Was  never  creature  clolh'd  in  savage  weeds, 

Which  would  not  blush  when  they  this  mischief 

Thou  told'st  a  tale  which  might  have  been  untold. 
Making  the  bearers  blush,  the  readers  old. 


le?     15 


I 


THE  WISDOM  OF  BOLOUON  PARAPHRASED.       445 

Let  them  blush  still  that  liear,  be  old  that  read,* 

Then  boltlness  shall  not  reign,  not  youth  in  vice; 
Thrice  miserable  they  which  rashly  speed 

With  expedition  to  this  bold  device; 
More  foolish  than  are  fools,  whose  misery 
Cannot  be  chang'd  with  new  felicity. 
Are  not  they  fools  which  live  without  a  seoE 

Have  not  they  misery  which  never  joy  ! 
Which  take"  an  idol  for  a  god's  defence. 

And  with   their  self-will'd  thoughts  themselve 
destroy  ? 
What  folly  is  more  greater  than  is  here  ? 
Or  what  more  misery  can  well  appear  ? 
Call  you  them  gods  which  have  no  seeing  eyes, 

No  noses  for  to  amell,  no  ears  to  hear, 
Ko  life  but  that  which  in  death's  shadow  ties, 

Which  have  no  hands  to  feel,  no  feet  to  bear  ? 


Ifg 


eithei 


■,  liv 


feel,  I 


A  fool  may  make  such  gods  ' 

And  what  was  he  that  made  them  but  a  fool,        10 

Conceiving  folly  in  a  foohsh  brain, 
Taught  and  instructed  in  a  wooden  school, 

Which  made  his  head  run  of  a  wooden  vein  ? 
'Tnas  man  which  made  them,  he  his  making  had  ; 
Man,  full  of  wood,  was  wood,^  and  so  ran  mad. 
He  borrowed  his  life,  and  would  restore 

His  borrow'd  essence  to  another  death  ; 
He  fain  would  be  a  maker,  though  before 

Was  made  himself,  and  God  did  lend  him  breath  : 
No  man  can  make  a  god  like  to  a  man ; 
He  aays  he  scorns  that  work,  he  further  can. 

'  hear  .  .  .  rtadl  Old  ed.  "  hearei .  . .  rasdei :"'  and  in  the 


Dod]  A  wretched  play  on  wordx  — furioua,  mad. 


44<1      TBI  VODOK  or  tOUnUam  rABATBRAtBD; 

I    He  ia  decdv'd,  ■nd  in  bis  great  deceit 

He  dodi  decMve  the  folly-guided  heans; 
Sin  lies  IB  snlnuh,  he  for  lin  doth  wait. 

Here  is  deceit  deceiv'd  in  either  porta ; 
His  BB  deceivcih  him,  and  he  his  lio. 
So  cnA  with  anA  it  men'd  in  either  gin. 

The  ciaftanun  mortal  is,  crafl  mortal  is. 
Each  AuctioB  ourtiog  up  the  other's  want; 

Hi*  kaods  are  nortal,  deadly  what  is  his, 
ObIj  bis  sias  bud'  in  destructioti's  plant : 

Yet  better  he  iban  what  he  doth  devise, 

For  he  bimseirdolh  lire,  that  ever  dies. 

Say,  call  you  this  »  god  F  nhere  is  his  head  7        1 
Yet  headless  is  he  not,  yet  bath  he  none ; 

Where  is  his  godhead  *  fled ;  his  power  f  dead  ; 
His  reign  7  decayed ;  and  his  essence  ?  gone : 

Now  tell  me,  is  this  god  the  god  ofgood? 

Or  else  Silvanus  monarch  of  the  wood? 

There  have  I  plerc'd  his  bark,  for  he  b  so, 
A  wooden  god,  feign'd  as  Silvanus  was ; 

But  leaving  him,  to  others  lei  us  go, 

To  senseless  beasts,  their  new-adoring  glass ; 

Beasts  which  did  live  in  life,  yet  died  in  reason  ; 

Beasts  which  did  s 


Can  mortal  bodies  and  immortal  souls 
Keep  one  knit  union  of  a  living  lovef 

Can  sea  with  land,  can  fish  agree  with  fowls  ? 
Tigers  with  lambs,  a  serpent  with  a  dove  7 

O  no,  they  cannot !  then  say,  why  do  we 

Adore  a  beast  which  is  our  enemy  ? 

-  6«d]  Old  ed.  "  budB.-' 


THE  WISDOU  OF  SOLOMON  PAnAFHRASED.       447 

What  greater  foe  than  folly  unto  wit  ? 

What  more  deformity  than  ugly  face  ? 
This  disagrees,  for  folly  is  unfit, 

The  other  contrary  to  beauty's  place  ; 
Then  how  can  senseless  heads,  deformed  shows, 
Agree  with  you,  when  they  are  both  your  foes  f 


O,  call  that  word  again !  they  are  your  friends, 
Your  life's  asBociates  and  your  love's  content ; 

That  which  begins  in  thetn,  your  folly  ends ; 
Then  how  can  vice  with  vice  be  discontent? 

Behold,  deformity  sits  on  your  heads. 

Not  horns,  but  scorns,  not  visage,  but  whole  beds. 

Behold  a  heap  of  sins  your  bodies  pale, 

A  mountain -overwhelming  villany; 
Then  tell  me,  are  you  clad  in  beauty's  veil, 

Or  in  destruction's  pale-dead  Hvery  7 
Their  life  demonstrates,  now  alive,  now  dead. 
Tormented  with  the  beasts  which  they  have  fed. 

You  like  to  pelicans  have  fed  your  death,  '2 

With  follies  vain  let  blood  from  folly's  vein, 

And    almost   slarv'd   yourselves,    slopt    up    youi 
breath, 
Had  not  God's  mercy  help'd  and  eas'd  your  pain  : 

Behold,  a  new-found  meat  the  Lord  did  send, 

Which  taught  you  to  be  new  and  to  amend. 

A  at  range-digested  nutriment,  even  quails,  3 

Which  taught  them  to  be  strange  unto  misdeeds : 

When  you  implore  his  aid,  he  never  fails 

To  fill  their  hunger  whom  repentance  feeds : 

You  see,  when  life  was  half  at  death's  arrest. 

He  new-created  life  at  hunger's  feast. 


448       THE  WISDOM  OV  SOLOMOn  PASAPBKASBD. 


Say,  is  your  god  like  thii,  whom  you  &dor'd. 
Or  is  this  god  like  to  your  handy-frame  ? 

If  so,  his  power  could  not  then  afford 

Such  influence,  which  floweth  from  hia  nan 

He  is  not  painted,  made  of  wood  and  atoDc, 

But  he  Bubsiantial  is,  and  rules  alone. 

He  can  oppress  and  help,  help  and  oppress, 
The  siDful  incolants'  of  his  made  earth; 

He  can  redress  and  pain,  pain  and  redress. 
The  mountain- miseries  of  mortal  birth : 

Now,  tyrants,  you  are  next,  this  but  a  show. 

And  merry  index  of  your  aAer-woe. 

Your  hot-cold  misery  is  now  at  hand !  5 

Hot,  because  fury's  heat  and  mercy'a  cold  j 

Cold,  because  limping,  knit  in  frosty  band. 
And  cold  and  hot  in  being  shamefac'd-lMild: 

They  cruel  were,  take  cruelly  their  part, 

For  misery  is  but  loo  mean  a  smart. 

But  when  the  tiger's  jaws,  the  serpent's  stings,      fi 
Did  summon  them  unto  this  life's  decay, 

A  pardon  for  their  faults  tliy  mercy  brings. 
Cooling  thy  wrath  with  pity's  sunny  day : 

O  tyrants,  Icsr  your  sin-bemired  weeds. 

Behold  your  pardon  seal'd  by  mercy's  deeds  [ 

Tbat  sting  which  pained  could  not  ease  the  pain,  7 
Those  jaws   ihai   mounded  could  not  cure  the 
wounds  1 

To  lurn  lo  stings  for  help,  it  were  but  rain. 

To  j«w»  for  mercy,  which  wani^  mercy's  bounds : 

The  stings,  O  Saviour,  were  puU'd  out  by  thee ! 

Their  jaws  claspt  up  in  midst  of  cruelty. 
■  Incefond]  i.  e.  iDhahiUnts.      '  icob(J  Old  ed.  "  watHs." 


I 


THE  WISDOM  OF  SOLOMON  PARAPHRASED.       449 

O  sovereign  sal  re,  stop  to  a  bloody  str 
O  heavenly  care  and  cure  for  dust  a 

Celestial  watch  to  wake  terrestrial  dre; 
Dreaming  in 

Now  know  ou 

Which  helps  and  cures  our  grief  and  misery. 

Our  punishment  doth  end,  theirs  new  begins; 

Our  day  appears,  their  night  is  not  o'erblown ; 
We  pardon  have,  they  punishment  for  sins  ; 

Now  we  are  rais'd,  now  they  are  overthrown  ; 
We  with  hnge  beasts  oppreat,  ihey  with  a  fly  ; 
We  live  in  God,  and  they  against  God  die. 

A  fly,  poor  fly,  to  follow  such  a  flight! 

Yet  art  thou  fed,  as  thou  wast  fed  before, 
With  dust  and  earth  feeding  thy  wonted  bite. 

With  self-like  food  from  mortal  earthly  store  : 
A  mischief-s tinging  food,  and  sting  with  sting. 
Do  ready  passage  to  destruction  bring. 

Man,  being  grass,  is  hopp'd  and  graz'd  upon, 
With  sucking  grasshoppcrB  of  weeping  dew  ; 

Man,  being  earth,  is  worm's  vermilion, 

Which  eats  the  dust,  and  yet  of  bloody  hue : 

Id  being  grass  he  is  her  grazing  food. 

In  being  dust  he  doth  the  worms  some  good. 

These  smallest  actors  were  of  greatest  pain. 
Of  folly's  overthrow,  of  mischief's  fall ; 

But  yet  the  furious  dragons  could  not  gain 
The  life  of  those  whom  verities  exhale: 

These  folly  overcame,  they  foolish  were ; 

These  mercy  cur'd,  and  cures  these  godly  are. 

•  *Boiu]  Old  rd.  "  knowes." 


4M       THE  msDOH  OF  SOLOMON  FARAFBBASED. 

When  poison 'd  jatvs  and  venenaled  stings  1 1 

Were  both  as  opposite  against  content  — 

Because  content  with  that  which  fortune  brings  — 
They  eased  were  when  thou  thy  mercies  sent ; 

The  jaws  of  dragons  had  not  hunger's  fill, 

Not  stings  of  serpents  a  desire  to  kill, 

Appall'd  they  were  and  struck  with  timorous  fears. 
For  where  is  fear  but  where  destruction  reigns  ? 

Aghast  they  were,  with  wet-eye-standing  tears, 
Outward  commcncers  of  their  inward  pains ; 

They  soon  were  hurt,  but  sooner  heal'd  and  cur'd. 

Lest  black  oblivion  had  their  minds  inur'd. 

The  lion,  wounded  with  a  fatal  blow,  12 

Is  as  impatient  as  a  king  in  rage ; 
Seeing  himself  in  his  own  bloody  show 

Doth  rent  the  harbour  of  his  body's  cage; 
Scorning  the  base-hous'd    earth,    mounta   to   the 

To  see  if  heaven  can  yield,  him  remedy. 

O  sinful  man !  let  him  example  be, 

A  pattern  to  thine  eye,  glass  to  thy  face. 

That  God's  di vines t  word  is  cure  to  thee, 

Not  earth,  but  heaven,  not  man,  but  heavenly 
grace ; 

Nor  herb  nor  plaster  could  help  teeth  or  sting. 

But  'twas  thy  word  which  healeth  every  thing. 

We  fools  lay  salves  upon  our  body's  skin,  13 

But  never  draw  corruption  from  our  mind  ; 

We  lay  a  plaster  for  to  keep  in  sin. 

We  draw  forth  filth,  but  leave  the  cause  behind  ; 

With  herbs  and  plasters  we  do  guard  misdeeds. 

And  pare  away  the  tops,  but  leave  the  seeds. 


» 


THE  WISDOM  OF  SOLOMON  PAKAPUItASED.       451 

Away  with  salves,  and  take  our  Saviour's  word ! 

[n  this  word  Saviour  lies  immortal  ease; 
What  can  thy  cures,  plasters,  and  herbs  aftbrd, 

When  God  hath  power  to  please  and  to  displease  ? 
God  hath  the  power  of  life,  death,  help,  and  pain, 
He  leadeth  down  and  bringeth  up  again. 

Trust  to  thy  downfal,  not  unto  thy  raise,  14 

So  shah  thou  live  in  death,  not  die  in  life  ; 

Thou  dost  presume,  if  give  thyself  the  praise, 
For  virtue's  time  is  scarce,  but  iDischier's  rife:' 

Thou  luay'st  offend,  man's  nature  is  so  vain ; 

Thou,  now  in  joy,  beware  of  al\er-pain. 

First  Cometh  fury,  after  fury  thirst,  15 

After  thirst  blood,  and  afler  blood  a  death ; 

Thou  may'si  in  fury  kill  whom  thou  lov'd'at  first, 
And  so  in  quailing  blood  stop  thine  own  breath  i 

And  murder  done  can  never  be  undone, 

Nor  can  that  soul  once  live  whose  life  is  gone. 

What  is  the  body  but  an  earthen  case  16 

That  subject  is  to  death,  because  earth  dies? 

But  when  the  living  soul  doth  want  God's  grace, 
It  dies  in  Joy,  and  lives  in  miseries  : 

This  soul  is  led  by  God,  as  others  were, 

But  not  brought  up  again,  as  others  are. 

This  stirs  no  provocation  to  amend. 

For  earth  hath  many  partners  in  one  fall, 

Although  the  Lord  doth  many  tokens  send, 
As  warnings  for  to  hear  when  he  doth  call : 

The  earth  was  burnt  and  drown'd  with  fire  and  rain. 

And  one  could  never  quench  the  other's  pain. 


rife}  f 


>,  p.  iSS. 


452       THE  WIIDOU  OF  SOt-OMOK 


Although   both  foes,  God  made  ihem  theD  both 


iriends, 


r  foes; 


And  only  foes  to  them  which  were  the 
That  hate  begun  in  earth  what  in  them  e 

Sin's  enemies  they  nbich  made  friends  of  those ; 
Both  bent  both  forces  unto  single  earth, 
From  whose  descent  they  had  their  double  birth. 

'Tis  strange  that  water  should  not  quench  a  fire. 
For  they  were  heating-cold  and  cooling-hot; 

'Tis  strange  that  wails  could  not  allay  desire. 
Wails  water-kind,  and  fire  desire's  knot; 

In  such  a  cause,  though  enemies  before. 

They  would  join  friendship,  to  destroy  the  more. 

The  often-weeping  eyes  of  dry  lament  18 

Do''  pour  forth  burning  water  of  despair. 
Which  warms  the  caves  from  whence  the  tears  are 

And,  like  hot  fumes,  do  foul  their  nature's  fair  :' 
This,  contrary  to  icy  water's  vale. 
Doth  scorch  the  cheeks  and  makes  them  red  and  pale. 

Here  Rre  and  water  are  conjoin'd  in  one. 
Within  a  red-nhite  glass  of  hot  and  cold ; 

Their  fire  like  this,  double  and  yet  alone, 

Raging  and  tame,  and  tame  and  yet  was  bold ; 

Tame  when  the  beasts  did  kill,  and  felt  no  fire 

Raging  upon  the  causers  of  iheir  ire. 

Two  things  may  well  put  on  two  several  natures,  19 
Because  they  dilfer  in  each  nature's  kind, 

They  differing  colours  have  and  differing  features  ; 
If  so,  how  comes  it  that  they  have  one  raindf 

God  made  them  friends,  let  this  the  answer  be ; 

They  get  no  other  argument  of  me. 

'  i)o]  Old  ed.  "  Doth."  •  /air]  See  note,  p.  SCO. 


SOLOMON  PARAFHRABED.       453 

What  is  impossible  to  God's  command  ? 

Nay,  what  is  possible  to  man's  vain  care! 
'Tis  much,  he  thinks,  that  fire  should  burn  a  land, 

irand  which  fires  bear ; 

He  thinks  it  more,  that  water  should  bear  fire: 
Then  know  il  was  God's  will ;  now  leave  t'  inquire. 

Yet  might'st  thou  ask,  because  importunate,  20 
How  God  preserv'd  the  good ;    why !    becauae 

111  fortune  made  not  ihem  infortunate, 

They  angels  were,  and  fed  with  angela'  food  : 

Vet  may'st  thou  say  —  for  truth  is  always  had  — 
That  rain  falls  on  the  good  as  well  as  bad : 

And  say  it  doth  ;  far  be  the  letter  P 

From  R,  because  of  a  mote  reverent  style; 

It  cannot  do  without  suppression  be  ; 

These  are  two  bars  against  destruction's  wile ; 

Pain  without  changing  P  cannot  be  rain, 

Rain  without  changing  R  cannot  be  pain  : 

But  sun  and  rain  are  portions  to  the  ground,  21 
Andgroundisdust,  and  what  is  dust  but  nought  7 

And  what  is  nought  is  naught,  with  alpha's  sound  ; 
Yet  every  earth  the  sun  and  rain  hath  bought; 

The  sun  dolh  shine  on  weeds  as  well  as  flowers, 

The  rain  on  both  distills  her  weeping  showers. 

Yet  far  be  death  from  breath,  annoy  from  joy. 
Destruction  from  all  happiness'  allines  !" 

God  will  not  suffer  famine  to  destroy 
The  hungry  appetite  of  virtue's  signs  : 

These  were  in  midst  of  fire,  yet  not  harm'd, 

In  midst  of  water,  yet  but  cool'd  and  warm'd. 

■■  allinef}  i.  c.  slliei. 


454      THE  VrtBDOU  OF  80L0I10N 

And  water-wet  they  were,  not  water-drown' d,      22 
And  fire-hoi  tliey  were,  not  dre-burn'd  ; 

Their  foea    were    both,   whose   hopes   destruction 
crown'd. 
But  yet  with  such  a  crown  which  ne'er  relum'd  ; 

Here  fire  and  water  brought  both  joy  and  pain, 

To  one  disprofit,  to  the  other  gain. 

The  BUQ  doth  thaw  what  cold  hath  Jreez'd  beforet 
Undoing  what  congealed  ice  had  done. 

Yet  here  the  hail  and  snow  did  freeze  the  more, 
In  liaving  heat  more  piercing  than  the  sun ; 

A  mournful  spectacle  unto  their  eyes, 

That  as  tliey  die,  so  their  fruition  dies. 

Fury  once  kindled  with  the  coals  of  rage  23 

Doth  hover  unrecall'd,  slaughters  untam'd  ; 

This  wrath  on  fire  no  pity  could  assuage. 

Because  they  pitiless  which  should  be  blam'd ; 

As  one  in  rage,  which  cares  not  who  he  hare. 

Forgetting  who  to  kill  and  who  to  save. 

One  deadly  foe  is  fierce  against  the  other,  34 

As  vice  with  virtue,  virtue  against  vice; 

Vice  heartenM  by  death,  his  heartless  mother. 
Virtue  by  God,  the  life  of  her  device  : 

'Tis  hard  to  hurt  or  harm  a  villany, 

'Tis  easy  to  do  good  to  verity. 

Is  grass  man's  meat  ?  no,  it  is  cattle's  food,  25 

But  man  doth  eat  the  cattle  which  eats  grass, 

And  feeds  his  carcass  with  their  nurs'd-up  blood. 
Lengthening  the  lives  which  in  a  moment  pass : 

Grass  is  good  food  if  it  be  join'd  with  grace, 

Else  sweeter  food  may  take  a  sourer  place. 


i»E  WISDOM  OF  SOLOMON  PARAPHRASED.       455 


Is  tbeie  such  life  in  water  and  in  bread,  26 

Id  fisli,  in  flesli,  in  herbs,  in  growing  flowers? 

We  eat  ihem  not  alive,  we  eat  them  dead  ; 

What  fruit  then  hath  the  word  of  living  powers? 

How  can  we  live  with  that  which  is  still  dead? 

Thy  grace  it  is  by  which  we  all  are  fed. 

This  ia  a  living  food,  a  blessM  meat,  27 

Made  to  digest  the  burden  at  our  hearts. 

That  leaden- weighted  food  which  we  first  eat, 
To  fill  the  functions  of  our  bodies'  parts. 

An  indigested  he.ip,  without  a  mean, 

Wanting  thy  grace,  O  Lord,  to  make  it  clean! 

Tliat  ice  which  sulphur- vapours  could  not  thaw,  28 
That  hail  which  piercing  fire  could  not  bore, 

The  cool-hot  sun  did  melt  their  frosty  jaw, 

Which  neither  heat  nor  fire  could  pierce  before ; 

Then  let  us  take  the  spring-time  of  the  day, 

Before  the  harvest  of  our  joys  decay. 

A  day  may  be  divided,  as  a  year,  29 

Into  four  climes,  though  of  itself  but  one ; 
The   morn    the    spring,    the    noon    the    Bummer's 

The  harvest  next,  evening  the  winter's  moon  : 
Then  sow  new  seeds  in  every  new  day's  spring. 
And  reap  new  fruit  in  day's  old  evening. 

Else  if  too  late,  they  will  be  blasted  seeds. 
If  planted  at  the  noontide  of  their  growing ; 

Commencers  of  unthankful,  too  late  deeds. 
Set  in  the  harvest  of  the  reajier's  going: 

Melting  like  winter-ice  against  the  sun. 

Flowing  like  folly's  tide,  and  never  done. 


456     TBX  wtaooM  of  bolomon  p 


O,  fly  the  bed  of  vice,  the  lodge  of  sin  !  1 

Sleep  not  too  long;  in  your  destruction's  pleasures  t 

Amend  your  wicked  lives,  and  new  begin 

A  more  new  perfect  way  to  heaven's  treasures  : 

O,  rather  wake  and  weep  than  sleep  and  joy  ! 

Waking  is  truth,  sleep  is  a  flattering  toy, 

O,  take  the  morning  of  your  instant  good! 

Be  not  benighted  with  oblivion's  eye; 
Behold  the  sun,  which  kisseth  Neptune's  flood. 

And  re-salutes  the  world  with  open  sky  : 
Else  sleep,  and  ever  sleep  j  God's  wrath  is  great, 
And  will  not  alter  with  too  late  entreat. 

Why  wake  I  them  which  have  a  sleeping  mind?     2 
O  words,  sad  sergeants  to  arrest  my  tnoughti ! 

If  p^'d,  they  cannot  see,  their  eyes  are  blind, 
Shut  up  like  windolets,  which  sleep  hath  bought : 

Their  face  ia  broad  awake,  but  not  their  heart ; 

They  dream  of  rising,  but  arc  loath  to  start. 

These  were  the  practisers  how  to  betray 
The  simple  righteous  with  beguiling  words. 

And  bring  them  in  subjection  to  obey 
Their  irreligious  laws  and  sin's  accords  : 

But  night's  black-colour'd  veil  did  cloud  their  wifl. 

And  made  their  wish  rest  in  performance'  skill. 

The  darksome  clouds  are  summoners  of  rain,         3 
In  being  something  black  and  something  dark  ; 

But  coal-black  clouds  make'  it  pour  down  amain, 
Darting  forth  thunderbolts  and  lightning's  spark  : 

Sin  of  itself  is  black,  but  black  with  black 
Augments  the  heavy  burthen  of  the  back. 

'  mfLi/)  Old  ed.  "  makes." 


PARAPHKABED.       45? 

Thej'    thought   that   sins    could   hide   their  sinful 

In  being  demi-clouds  and  semi-nights  ; 
But  [hey  had  clouds  enough  to  make  their  games, 

I/odg'd  in  black  coverings  of  oblivious  nights  : 
Then  was  their  vice  afraid  to  lie  so  dark, 
Troubled  with  visions  from  Alastor's'  park. 

The  greater  poison  bears  the  greater  sway,  4 

The  greatest  force  hath  still  the  greatest  face; 

Should  night  miss  course,  it  vrould  infect  the  day 
With  foul-risseS  vapours  from  a  humorous  place  : 

Vice  hath  some  clouds,  but  yet  the  night  hath  more, 

Because  the  night  ivas  fram'd  and  made  before. 

That  sin  which  makes  afraid  was  then  afraid. 
Although  enchanibcr'd  in  a  den's  content ; 

That  would  not  drive  back  fear  which  comes  repaid. 
Nor  yet  the  echoes  which  the  visions  sent ; 

Both  sounds  and  shows,  both  words  and  action, 

Made  apparition's  satisfaction. 

A  night  in  pitchy  mantle  of  distress,  ."> 

Made  thick  with  mists  and  opposite  to  light, 

As  if  Cocytus'  mansion  did  possess 

The  gloomy  vapours  of  suppressing  sight; 

A  night  more  ugly  than  Alastor's  pack. 

Mounting  all  nights  upon  his  night-made  back. 

The  moon  did  mourn  in  sable-suited  veil; 

The  stars,  her  handmaids,  were  in  black  attire; 
All  nightly  visions  told  a  hideous  tale  ; 

Thescreech-owlsmadetheearth  their  dismal  quire: 
The  moon  and  stars  divide  their  twinkling  eyes 
To  lighten  vice,  which  in  oblivion  lies. 

'  AlatUr;]  Sec  noW,  p.  132.  <  rijif]  L  e.  riien. 


458       THE  WISDOM  OF  SotOMOM  PABAPHRA3EII. 

Only  appear'd  a  fire  in  doleful  blase,  f 

Kindled  by  furies,  rais'd  by  envious  winds, 

Dresdrul  in  sight,  which  put  them  to  amaze, 
Having  before  fury-despairing  minda  : 

What  hair  in  reading  would  not  stand  upright  f 

What  pen  in  writing  would  not  cease  to  write  T 

Fire  is  God's  angel,  because  bright  snd  clear, 
But  [his  an  evil  angel,  because  dread ; 

Evil  to  them  which  did  already  fear, 

A  second  death  la  them  which  were  once  dead : 

Annexing  horror  to  dead-slrucken  life, 

Connexing  dolor  to  live  nature's  strife. 

Deceit  was  then  deceiv'd,  treason  bciray'd,  i 

Mischief  bcguil'd,  a  night  surpassing  night. 

Vice  fought  with  vice,  and  fear  was  then  distnay'd, 
Horror  itself  appall'd  at  such  a  sight ; 

Sin's  snare  was  then  ensnor'd,  the  fisher  cought,*" 

Sin's  net  was  then  entrapt,  the  fowler  fought. 

Yet  all  this  conflict  was  but  in  a  dream, 
A  show  of  substance  and  a  shade  of  truth. 

Illusions  for  to  mock  in  flattering  theme, 
Beguiling  mischief  with  a  glass  of  ruth : 

For  boasts  require  a  fall,  and  vaunts  a  shame, 

Which  two  vice  had  in  thinking  but  to  game. 


Sin  told  her  creditors  she  was 

And  now  becoine  revenge  to  rigtit  the 
With  hooey-mermaid's  speech  alluring  seen, 

'""''•g  words  with  her  old  tongue 


lit  their  wrong, 
_,  lias  speecn  aiiu' 

Making  new-pleasing  words  with  III.-I  uiu  Lun^^ut 
ith  she,  I'll  make  you  whole; 


If  you  be  sick,  quoi 
She  cures  the  body, 

■■  cc/ufA/]  So 


nakcs  sick  the  soul. 


FARAFHBASED.        459 

[  Safe  ia  the  body  niien  the  soul  is  wounded. 
The  soul  13  joyful  in  the  body's  grief; 

One's  joy  upon  the  other's  sorrow  grounded. 
One's  sorrow  placed  in  the  one's  relief: 

Quoth  SID,  Fear  nothing,  know  that  I  am  here  ; 

When  she,  alas,  herself  was  sick  for  fear  1 

A  promise  worthy  of  derision's  place,  9 

That  fear  should  help  a  fear  when  both  are  one  ; 

She  was  as  sick  in  heart,  though  not  in  face. 

With  inward  grief.though  not  with  outward  moan : 

But  she  clasp'd  up  the  closure  of  the  tongue, 

For  fear  ihat  words  should  do  her  body  wrong. 

Cannot  the  body  weep  without  the  eyes? 

les,  and  frame  deepest  canzons  of  lament; 
Cannot  the  body  fear  without  it  lies 

Upon  the  outward  shew  of  discontent  ? 
Yes,  yes,  the  deeper  fear  sits  in  the  heart. 
And  keeps  the  parliament  of  inward  smart. 

So  sin  did  snare  in  mind,  and  not  in  face,  10 

The  dragon's  jaw,  the  hissing  serpent's  Biing; 

Some  liv'd,  some  died,  some  ran  a  fearful  race. 
Some  did  prevent'  that  which  ill  fortunes  bring: 

All  were  officious  servitors  to  fear, 

And  Iter  pale  connizancc^  in  heart  did  wear. 

Malice  condemn'd  herself  guilty  of  hate, 
Widi  a  malicious  mouth  of  envious  spile  ; 

For  Nemesis  is  her  own  cruel  fate. 

Turning  her  wrath  upon  her  own  delight : 

We  need  no  witness  for  a  guilty  thought, 

Which  to  condemn  itself,  a  thousand  brought. 


For  fear  deceives  itself  in  being  fear. 

It  fears  ilsdf  iD  being  still  afraid; 
It  fears  to  weep,  and  yet  it  sheds  a  tear ; 

It  fears  itself,  and  yet  it  is  obey'd : 
The  usher  unto  death,  a  death  to  doom, 
A  doom  to  die  in  horror's  fearful  roniii : 

His  own  betrayer,  yet  fears  to  betray,  12 

He  fears  his  life  by  reason  of  his  name; 

He  fears  lament,  because  it  brings  decay. 
And  blames  himself  in  that  he  merits  blame : 

He  is  lorniented,  yet  denies  the  pain  ; 

He  ia  the  king  of  fear,  yet  loath  to  reign. 

HisBons  were  they  wliich  slept  and  dreamt  of  fear,  13 
A  naking  sleep,  and  yet  a  sleepy  waking. 

Which  pass'd  that  night  more  longer  than  a  year, 
Being  grief's  prisoners,  and  of  sorrow's  talcing: 

Slept  in  night's  dungeon  insupportable, 

Lodg'd  in  night's  horror  too  endurable. 

O  sleep,  the  image  of  long-lasting  woe! 

O  waking  image  of  long-lasting  sleep! 
The  hollow  cave  where  visions  come  and  go, 

Where  serpents  hiss,  where  mandrakes  groan  and 


Dyeing  each  heart  in  white,  each  white  in  foul ! 

A  guileful  hole,  a  prison  of  deceit. 

Yet  nor  deceit  nor  guile  in  being  desd; 

Snare  without  snarer,  net  without  a  bait, 
A  common  lodge,  and  yet  without  a  bed  ; 

A  hollow-sounding  vault,  known  and  unknown, 

Yet  not  for  mirth,  but  too,  loo  well  for  moan. 


THE  WISDOM  OF  SOtOMOK  FARAPHRABED.       461 

'Tis  a  free  prison,  a  chain'd  liberty,  15 

A  freedom's  cave,  a  sergeant  and  a  bail ; 

It  keeps  close  prisoners,  yet  doth  set  tliem  free, 
Their  clogs  not  iron,  but  a  clog  of  wail ; 

It  stays  them  not,  and  yet  they  cannot  go, 

Their  chain  is  discontent,  their  prison  woe. 

Still  it  did  gape  for  more,  and  still  more  had,        16 
Like  greedy  avarice  without  content; 

Like  to  Avernus,  which  is  never  glad 

Before  the  dead-liv'd  wicked  souls  be  sent: 

Pull  in  thy  head,  tliou  sorrow's  tragedy, 

And  leave  to  practice  thy  old  cruelly. 

The  merry  shepherd  cannot  walk  alone, 
Tuning  sweet  madrigals  of  harvest's  joy. 

Carving  love's  roundelays  on  every  stone, 
Hanging  on  every  tree  some  amorous  toy. 

But  thou  with  sorrow  interlines  his  song. 

Opening  thy  jaws  of  death  to  do  him  wrong. 

O,  now  I  know  thy  chain,  thy  clog,  thy  fetter,      17 
Tby  free-chain'd  prison  and  thy  clogged  walk ! 

'Tis  gloomy  darkness,  sin*s  eternal  debtor, 
'Tis  poison'd  buds  from  Achcrontic  stalk  ; 

Sometime  'tis  hissing  winds  which  are  their  bands. 

Sometime  enchanting  birds  which  bind'  their  hands  ; 

Sometime  the  foaming  rage  of  waters'  stream,       18 
Or  clattering  down  of  stones  upon  a  stone. 

Or  skipping  beasts  at  Titan's  gladsome  beam. 
Or  roaring  lion's  noise  at  one  alone, 

Or  babbling  Echo,  tell-tale  of  each  sound. 

Prom  mouth  to  sky,  from  sky  unto  the  ground. 

J  fcisrf]  Old  eJ.  "  bindi." 


4Gi      THE  WISDOU  C 

Can  such-like  fears  Tollow  man's  mortal  pace,       19 
Wiihin  dry  wilderness  of  wettest  woe? 

It  was  God's  providence,  his  will,  his  grace. 
To  make  midnoon  midnight  in  being  so ; 

Midnight  with  sin,  roidnoon  where  virtue  lay; 

Tliat  place  was  night,  all  other  places  day. 

The  sun,  not  past  the  middle  line  of  course,  20 

Did  clearly  shine  upon  each  labour's  gain, 

Not  hindering  daily  loil  of  mortal  force, 

Nor  clouding  earth  with  any  gloomy  stain  ; 

Only  night's  image  was  apparent  there, 

Willi  heavy,  leaden  appetite  of  fear. 

Chap.  XVIII. 
You  know  the  eagle  by  her  soaring  wings,  1 

And  how  the  swallow  takes  a  lower  pitch ; 
Ye  know  the  day  is  clear  and  clearness  brings, 

And  how  the  night  ia  poor,  though  gloomy-rich  ; 
This  eagle  virtue  is,  which  mounts  on  high ;' 
The  other  sin,  which  bates  the  heaven's  eye. 

This  day  is  wisdom,  being  bright  and  clear; 

This  night  is  mischief,  heing  black  and  foul ; 
The  brightest  day  doth  wisdom's  glory  wear. 

The  pitchy  night  puts  on  a  blacker  rowl  :^ 
Thy  saints,  O  Lord,  were  at  their  labour'a  hire  I 
At  whose  heard  voice  the  wicked  did  admire. 

They  thought  that  virtue  had  been  cloth'd  in  night,  2 
Captive  to  darkness,  prisoner  unto  hell ; 

But  it  was  sin  itself,  vice,  and  despite, 

Whose  wished  harbours  do  in  darkness  dwell : 

Virtue's  immortal  soul  had  mid-day's  light, 

Miachiers  eternal  foul  had  mid-day's  night. 
"  ™;]  i, 


lAPlJRASED,      463 

For  virtue  is  not  subject  unto  vice. 

One  miacliief  is  not  ihaw'd  with  other's  ice. 

But  more  adjoin'il  lo  one,  makes  one  more  great ; 
Sin  virtue's  captive  is,  and  kneels  for  grace. 
Requesting  pardon  for  her  rude-run  race. 

The  tongue  of  virtue's  life  cannot  pronounce  3 

The  doom  of  death,  or  death  of  dying  doom  ; 

-Tis  merciful,  and  will  not  once  renounce 
Repentant  tears,  to  wash  a  sinful  room  ; 

Your  sin-shine  was  not  sun-shine  of  delight. 

But  shining  sin  in  mischief's  sunny  night. 

Now  by  repentance  you  are  Latli'd  in  bliss, 
Blest  in  your  bath,  eternal  by  your  deeds ; 

Behold,  you  have  true  light,  and  cannot  miss 
The  heavenly  food  which  your  salvation  feeds  : 

True  love,  true  life,  true  light,  your  portions  true; 

What   hate,   what    strife,   what   night    can   danger 

O  happy,  when  you  par'd  your  o'ergrown  faults !  4 
Your  sin.  like  eagle's  claws,  past  growth  of  time, 

All  undermined  with  destruction's  vaults. 

Full  of  old  filth,  proceeding  from  new  slime; 

Else  had  you  been  deformed,  like  to  those 

Which  vtere  your  friends,  but  now  become  your 
foes. 

I     Those  which  are  worthy  of  eternal  pain, 

Foes  which  are  worthy  of  immortal  hate. 
Dimming  the  glory  of  thy  children's  gain 

With  cloudy  vapours  set  at  darkness'  rate; 
Making  new  laws,  which  are  too  old  in  crime, 
Making  old -wicked  laws  serve  a  new  time. 


Wicked 


Men  ?  O  nc 
For  they 


bloody  laws ;   bloody  ? 

are  shameful,  these  exempt  from  shame: 
It?  shall  1  call  them  stnughter-drinking  hearts! 
Too  fjood  a  word  for  their  too-ill  deserts. 

Murder  was  in  their  thoughts,  they  thought  to  slay ; 

And  who  ?  poor  infants,  harmless  innocents ; 
But  murder  cannot  sleep,  it  will  betray 

Her  murderous  self,  with  Belf-disparagements : 
One  child,  poor  remnant,  did  reprove  iheir  deeds. 
And  God  destroy'd  the  bloody  murderers'  seeds. 

Was  God  deslroyer  then  ?  no,  he  was  just,  6 

A  judge  severe,  yet  of  a  kind  remorse  ; 

Severe  to  those  in  whom  there  waa  no  trust. 
Kind  to  the  babes  which  were  of  little  force ; 

Poorbabes,halfmurder'd  in  whole  murder's  thought. 

Had  not  one  infant  their  escaping  wrought. 

"Twas  God  which  breaib'd  his  spirit  in  the  child. 

The  lively  image  of  bis  self-like  face  ; 
'Twaa  God  which  drown'd  their  children,   which 
defil'd 
Their    thoughts    with    blood,   iheir    hearts    with 
murder's  place : 
For  that  night's  tidings  our  old  fathers  joy'd. 
Because  their  foes  by  water  were  destroy'd. 

Was  God  a  murderer  in  this  tragedy?  7 

No,  but  a  judge  how  blood  should  be  repaid : 

Was't  he  which  gave  them  unto  misery? 

No,  'twas  themselves  which  miseries  obey'd : 

Their  thoughts  did  kill  and  slay  within  their  hearts. 

Murdering  iheniaelves,  wounding  their  inward  parts. 


'  reutorw]  i. 


■  pil- 


Virtue  doth  live  when  villany  doth  die, 
Wisdoin  (loth  smile  tvhen  misery  doth  cry. 

The  summer-dayB  are  longer  than  the  nighta,         8 
The  winter-nights  are  longer  than  the  days; 

They  shew  both  virtue's  lovi-s  and  vice's  spites, 
Sin's  lowest  fall,  and  wisdom's  highest  raise: 

The  night  is  foe  to  day,  as  naught  to  good ; 

The  day  is  foe  to  night,  as  fear  to  food. 

A  king  may  wear  a  crown,  hut  full  of  strife. 
The  outward  show  of  a  ainall-Iaatinj^  space  ; 

Mischief  may  live,  but  yet  a  deadly  life; 
Sorrow  may  grieve  in  heart  and  joy  in  face ; 

Virtue  may  live  diaturb'd  with  vice's  pain  ; 

God  sends  this  virtue  a  tnore  better  reign. 

She  doth  possess  a  crown,  and  not  a  care,  9 

Yet  cares,  in  having  none  but  self-like  awe  ; 

She  hath  a  sceptre  without  care  or  fear, 
Yel  fears  ihe  Lord,  and  careth  for  the  law; 

As  much  as  she  doth  rise,  so  much  sin  falls, 

Subject  unto  her  law,  slave  to  her  calls. 

Now  righteousness  bears  sway,  and  vice  put  down. 
Virtue  is  queen,  treading  on  mischief's  bead  ; 

The  law  of  God  sancited'  with  renown. 
Religion  plac'd  in  wisdom's  quiet  bed ; 

Now  joyftil  hymns  are  tun^d  by  delight. 

And  now  we  live  in  love,  and  not  in  spite. 

'  imciftd]  i.  e.  orduDci),  Tilified. 


fl  sobs  liave  pierc'd  the  grouod, 
n  of  llie  cenice's  bresst,  10 

WailJDg  their  living  fortunes  irtth  dead  sound, 

Accents  of  grief  and  actions  of  unrest; 
It  is  not  sin  herself,  it  is  her  seed, 
Which,  drovrn'd  in  sea,  lies  there  for  sea's  foul  treed. 

It  is  tiie  fruit  of  murder's  bloody  womb. 
The  lost  fruition  of  a  murderous  race  ; 

A  liltle  stone,  which  would  have  made  a  tomb 
To  bury  virtue,  with  a  sin-bold  face: 

Methinks  I  hear  the  echoes  of  the  vaults, 

Sound  and  resound  their  old-new- weeping  faulta. 

View  the  dead  carcasses  of  human  state,  11 

The  outside  of  the  soul,  case  of  the  hearts; 

Behold  the  king,  behold  the  subject's  fate  ; 
Behold  each  limb  and  bone  of  earthen  arts; 

Tell  me  the  difference  then  of  every  thing. 

And  who  a  subject  was,  and  who  a  king. 

The  self-same  knowledge  lies  in  this  dead  scene, 

Vail'd'  to  the  tragic  cypress  of  lament; 
Behold  that  man,  which  bath  a  master  been. 

That  king,  which  would  have  climfa'd  above  con- 
Behold  their  slaves,  by  them  upon  the  earth. 
Have  now  as  high  a  seat,  as  great  a  birth. 

The  ground  hath  made  all  even  which  were  odd,  12 

Those  equal  which  had  inequality  ; 
Yet  all  alike  were  fashionM  by  God, 

In  body's  form,  but  not  in  heart's  degree : 
One  difference  had,  in  sceptre,  crown,  and  throne. 
Yet  crown'd,  rul'd,  plac'd  in  care,  in  grief,  in  moan. 

I  rsH'rf]  i.  e.  lowered. 


PARAPURASED.        467 


For  it  was  cure  to  wea 

And  it  was  grief  lo  ■ 
The  king  death's  subject,  death  his  empire's  thief. 

Which  makes  unequal  state  and  equal  Tare  ; 
More  dead  than  were  alive,  and  more  to  die 
Tiian  would  be  buried  with  a  mortal  eye. 

O  well-fed  earth  with  ill-digcsling  food!  13 

O  well-ill  food!  because  both  flesh  and  sin; 

Sin  made  it  sick,  which  never  did  it  good ; 
Sin  made  it  well,  her  well  doth  worse  begin: 

The  earth,  more  hungry  than  was  Tantal's  jaws, 

Had  flesh  and  blood  held  in  her  earthen  paws. 

Now  could  belief  some  quiet  harbour  And, 

When  all  her  foes  were  mantled  in  the  ground. 

Before  their  sin-enchantments  made  it  blind. 
Their  magic  arts,  their  necromantic  sound  ; 

Now  truth  hath  got  some  place  to  speak  and  hear, 

And  whatsoe'er  she  speaks  she  doth  not  fear. 

When  Phoebe's  axletree  was  limn'd  with  pale,  14,1.') 
Pale,    which    becometh    night,    night    which    is 
black, 

Hemm'd  round  about  with  gloomy'shining  veil, 
Borne  up  by  clouds,  mounted  on  silence'  back ; 

And  when  night's  horses,  in  the  running  wain, 

O'ertook  the  middest  of  their  journey's  pain ; 


Thy  word,  O  Lord  !  descended  from  thy  throne, 
"The  royal  mansion  of  thy  power's  command, 


Standing  in  midst  of  the  destroyed  land, 
And  brought  thy  precept,  as  a  burning  steve 
Reaching  from  heaven  to  earth,  from  earth  to  l: 


Ifi 


468       THE  WC8D0M  OF  SOLOMON  ■■AKAPHRASED. 

Now  was  ihe  niglit  far  spent,  and  morning's  nings 

Flew  th[o]rough  sleepy  ihoughts,  and  made  them 

dream.  17 

Hieing  apace  to  weic 
And  give  her  lime 

No  sooner  had  she  flown  unto  the  east, 

But  dreamy  passage  did  disturb  their  rest: 

And  then  like  sleepy-waking  hearts  and  eyes, 
Turn'd  up  the  fainting  closures  of  their  faces, 

Which  between  day  and  night  in  slumber  lies. 
Keeping  their  waky  and  their  sleepy  places  ; 

And,  lo,  a  fearing  dream  and  dreaming  fear 

Made  every  eye  let  fall  a  sleepy  tear! 

A  tear  half-wet  from  ihey  themselves  half-liv'd,  18 
Poor  dry-wet  tear  to  moist  a  wet-dry  face ; 

A  while-red  face,  whose  red-white  colour  striv'd 
To  make  anatomy  of  either  place ; 

Two  champions,  both  resolv'd  in  face's  field. 

And  both  had  half,  yet  either  scorn'd  to  yield. 

They  which  were  wont  to  mount  above  the  ground 
Have"  leaden,  quick-glued  sinews,  forc'd  to  lie,  19 

One  here,  one  there,  in  prison,  yet  unbound, 
Henri-airiving  life  and  death  to  live  and  die; 

Nor  were  they  ignorant  of  fate's  decree, 

In  being  told  before  what  they  should  be. 

There  falsest  visions  sliew'd  the  truest  cause  ;      20 
False,  because  fantasies,  true,  because  haps; 

For  dreams,  though  kindled  by  sleep-idle  pause. 
Sometime  true  indices  of  danger's  claps. 

As  well  doth  prove  in  these  sin-sleeping  lines. 

That  dreams  are  falsest  shews  and  truest  aigos. 

'  Half]  Old  CI 


PAUAPUBASED,      469 


e  death  had  longer  pilgrimage. 
And  vras  encaged  in  more  living  breasts; 
Now  every  ship  had  fleeting  anchorage, 

Botli  good  and  bad  were  punish'd  with  unrests 
But  yet  God's  heavy  plague  endur'd  not  long. 
For  anger  quench'd  herself  with  her  self  wrong. 

Not  so ;  for  heat  can  never  cool  with  heat. 
Nor  cold  can  narm  a  cold,  nor  ice  thaw  ice; 

Anger  is  fire,  and  fire  is  anger's  meat. 
Then  how  can  anger  cool  her  hot  device? 

The  sun  doth  thaw  the  ice  with  melting  harm, 

Ice  cannot  cool  the  sun  which  makes  it  warm. 

It  was  celestial  fire,  terrestrial  cold ; 

It  was  celestial  cold,  terrestrial  fire; 
A  true  and  holy  prayer,  which  is  bold 

To  cool  the  heat  of  anger's  hot  desire, 
Pronounced  by  a  servant  of  thy  word. 
To  ease  the  miseries  which  wraths  afford. 


Weapons  and  wit  are  double  links  of  force  ;         2'. 

If  one  unknit,  they  both  have  weaker  strength ; 
The  longer  be  the  chain,  the  longer  course, 

If  measur'd  by  duplicity  of  length: 
If  weapons  fail,  wit  is  the  better  part; 
Wit  failing,  weapons  have  the  weaker  heart. 


strength,  yet  sirotig  in 
do    more    than    strength. 


being 


Thy  word,  O  Lord,  is  wisdom,  and  in  it 

Doth  lie  more  force  than  forces  can  surprise  ! 
Man  did  not  overcome  his  foes  with  arms, 
But  with  thy  word,  which  conquers  greater  harms. 


,   470     TSB  VBSOX  or  sotOMOx  rAK&fsmAAED. 

[  Am  ««(4  it  «M  with  wliidi  die  wortd  wu  inni'd. 
The  he«TC—  ■■de,  iDorUlhy  ordaia'd  ;  39 

\  TkM  vmd  ii  ms  iritli  irhich  aU  men  were  nam'd, 
Ib  mhiA  <MM  sord  tlirre  are  all  words  rooaia'd; 

_     riw  bicuh  of  God,  \he  life  of  nwrtal  state, 
He  encBj  to  vice,  the  foe  to  hate. 

When  death  preM*d  down  the  >in-de«d  liring  soali, 
And  draw'd  the  nrtain  of  their  seeing  day, 

Thi>  word  waa  linne's  ihield  and  death's  controls, 
Which  shielded  tho«  which  neTer  went  »Mtnj ; 

For  when  the  dead  did  die  utd  end  in  sin, 

The  living  had  asraraoce  to  begin. 

Are  all  these  deeds  accom[>li>ih'd  in  one  word?  24 
O  sovereign  word,  chief  of  all  words  and  deeds ! 

O  salve  of  safety  I  wisdom's  strongest  sword, 
Boih  food  and  hunger,  which  both  starves  and 
feeds; 

Food  unto  life,  hecause  of  living  power. 

Hunger  to  those  whom  death  and  sins  devour. 

For  they  which  liv'd  were  those  which  virtue  lov'd. 
And  those  which  virtue  lov'd  did  love  to  live; 

Thrice  happy  these  whom  no  destruction  inov'd. 
She  present  there  which  love  and  life  did  give: 

They  bore  the  mottoes  of  elemsl  fame 

On  diapasons  of  their  father's  name. 

Here  death  did  change  his  pale  to  purple  hue,  25 
Blushing,  against  the  nature  of  his  face. 

To  see  such  bright  aspects,  such  splendent  view, 
Such  heavenly  paradise  of  earthly  grace, 

And  hid  with  life's  quick  force  bis  ebon  dart 

Within  the  craimiea  of  his  meagre  heart. 


THE  WISDOM  OF  SOLOUOH  FARAFURASED.       471 

Descending  to  the  place  frotn  wlience  he  came. 
With  rich-Btor'd  chariot  of  fresh-bleeding  wounds. 

Sore-grieved  bodies  from  a  soul's  sick  name, 
Sore-grieved  souls  in  bodies'  sin-sick  sounds ; 

Death  was  afraid  to  stay  where  life  should  be  ; 

For  they  are  foes,  and  cannot  well  agree. 

CuiP.  XIX. 
Avaunt,  destroyer,  with  thy  hungry  jaws,  1 

Thy  thirsty  heart,  thy  longing  ashy  bones ! 
The  righteous  live,  they  be  not  in  thy  laws. 

Nor  subjects  lo  thy  deep-oppressing  moans  ! 
Let  it  suffice  that  we  have  seen  thy  show, 
And  tasted  but  the  shadow  of  thy  woe. 

Yet  stay,  and  bring  thy  empty  car  again,  2 

More  ashy  vessels  do  attend  thy  pace  ; 

More  passengers  expect  thy  coming  wain. 
More  groaning  pilgrims  long  to  see  thy  face : 

Wrath  now  attends  (he  passage  of  misdeeds, 

And  thou  shalt  still  be  stor'd  with  souls  that  bleeds. 

Some  lie  half-dead,  while  others  dig  their  graves   3 
With    weak-forc'd    tears,  to  moist  a  long-dry 
ground ; 

But  tears  on  tears  in  time  will  make  whole  waves 
To  bury  sin  with  overwhelming  sound; 

Their  eyes  for  mattocks  serve,  their  tears  for  spades, 

And  they  themselves  are  sextons  by  their  trades. 

What  is  their  fee?  lament;  their  payment?  woe; 

Their  labour  ?  wail ;  their  practice  ?  misery  : 
And  can  their  conscience  serve  lo  labour  so  j 

Yes,  yes,  because  it  helpeth  villany  : 
Though  eyes  did  stand  in  tears  and  tears  in  eyes, 
Tbey  did  another  faolishness  devise. 


47« 


■  m  MLOvos  ^^M^rB»JlS^a. 


a^  UtM  wksi  prmrer  did.  itn  did  undo  ;  i 

Ami  wku  Ar  vjt*  did  win,  the  b««rt  did  lose ; 

VImnb  virtu*  rccMidl'd,  »iee  did  Ibrego ; 

Whoa  (irtiK  did  furcco,  ihat  vice  did  «boow: 

O  bad  dteit  h«uii  be«i  jasi,  ejM  had  been  winnen  '- 

TIkv  cyn  verc  jatt,  bat  liesns  new  sin's  beginntn. 

Tlwy  digg'd  tnt«  (prxTn  with  crn,  but  not  wiih 
hearu;  5 

Rcfwwxnn  in  their  race,  rice  in  their  thoughl : 
Their  delTiii^  ryn  did  take  the  seaton'a  pana; 

The  bean  undid  the  labour  which  eyes  wroDgfir : 
A  new  atrangr  death  was  porticn  for  (heir  toil. 
While  virtue  late  a*  jndge  to  end  the  broil. 

Had  to^ne  been  join'd  with  ejres,  loogae  had  not 
■tntj'd ;  G 

Had  eyes  been  join'd  to  heart,  heart  then  l 
■«en; 
But  O,  in  wanting  eyesight,  it  beiray'd 

The  dungeon  of  misdeeds,  where  il  had  fa 
So,  many  living  in  this  orb  of  wo«. 
Have  heav'd-up  eyes,  but  yet  their  hearts  are  low. 

This  change  of  sin  did  make  a  change  of  feature, 
A  new  strange  death,  a  misery  untold, 

A  new  reform  of  every  old-new  creature. 
New-serving  offices  which  time  made  old : 

New-living  virtue  from  an  old-dead  sin. 

Which  ends  in  ill  what  doth  in  good  begin. 

When  death  iHd  reap  the  harvest  of  despite. 
The  wicked  ears  of  sin,  and  mischief's  seed. 

Filling  the  mansion  of  eternal  night 

With  heavy,  leaden  clods  of  sinful  breed, 

Life  aow'd  the  plants  of  immortality. 

To  welcome  old- made  new  felicity. 


Tlie  clouds,  the  g 

Drawn  and  redrawn  with  the  four  winged  winds, 
Made  all  of  borrow'd  vapours,  ilarksome  fair, 

Did  overshade  their  lents,  which  virtue  finds; 
The  Red  Sea's  deep  was  made  a  dry-trod  way, 
Without  impediment,  or  stop,  or  slay. 

The  tliirsty  winds,  with  overtoiling  puffs,  8 

Did  drink  the  ruddy  ocean's  water  dry, 

Tearing  the  zone's  hot-cold,  whole-raggiid  ruffa 
With  ruffling  conHicIs  in  the  field  of  sky; 

So  that  dry  eartb  did  take  wet  water's  place. 

With  sandy  luantle  and  hard-grounded  face. 

That  way  which  never  was  a  way  before,  9 

Is  now  a  trodden  path  which  was  unirod. 

Through  which  the  people  went  as  on  a  shore, 
Defended  by  ihe  atretch'd-out  arm  of  God; 

Praising  his  wondrous  works,  his  miglity  hand. 

Making  the  land  of  sea,  the  sea  of  land. 

That  breast  where  anger  slept  is  mercy's  bed,       10 
That  breast  where  mercy  wakes  is  anger's  cave  ; 

When  mercy  lives,  then  Nemesis  is  dead. 

And  one  for  cither's  corse  makes  other's  grave : 

Hate  furrows  up  a  grave  to  bury  love, 

And  love  doth  press  down  hate,  it  cannot  move. 

This  breast  is  God,  which  ever  wakes  in  both; 

Anger  is  his  revenge,  mercy  his  love; 
He  sent  them  flies  instead  of  cattle's  growth. 

And  multitudes  of  frogs  for  fishes  strove; 
Here  was  his  anger  shewn  ;  and  his  remorse," 
When  he  did  make  dry  land  of  water-course, 


..]  i. 


■  pi'y- 


474      THE  WISDOK  OF  SOLOUOK  PARAFRKASED. 

The  sequel  proves  what  actor  is  the  chief;  1 1 

All  things  beginning  know,"  but  none  their  end ; 

The  sequel  unto  mirth  is  weeping  grief. 
As  doP  mishaps  with  happineBs  contend  ; 

For  both  are  agents  in  this  orb  of  weeping. 

And  one  ilolh  wake  when  other  falls  a-sleeping. 

Yet  should  man's  eyes  pay  tribute  every  hour 
Wjih  tributary  tears  to  sorrow's  shrine. 

He  would  all  drown  himself  with  his  own  shower. 
And  never  find  the  leaf  of  mercy's  line : 

They  in  God's  anger  wail'd,  in  his  love  joy'd ; 

Their  love  brought  lust  ere  love  had  lust  desiroy'd. 

The  sun  of  joy  dried  up  their  tear-wet  eyes,         12 
And  sate  as  lord  upon  (heir  sobbing  heart ; 

For  when  one  comfort  lives,  one  sorrow  die*. 
Or  ends  in  mirth  what  it  begun  in  smart : 

What  greater  grief  than  hunget-starved  mood  ?    - 

What  greater  mirth  than  satisfying  food  ! 

Quails  from  the  fishy  bosom  of  the  sea 

Came  to  their  comforts  which  were  living-star v'd ; 

Dot  punishments  fell  in  the  sinners'  way. 

Sent  down  by  thunderbolts  which  they  deserv'd  : 

Sin-fed  these  sinners  were,  hate-cherished  ; 

According  unto  both  they  perished. 

Sin-fed,  because  their  food  was  seed  of  sins,         13 
And  bred  new  sin  with  old-digested  meat ; 

Hate- cherished  in  being  hatred's  twins. 
And  sucking  cruelty  from  tiger's  teat: 

Was  it  not  sin  to  err  and  go  astray  ? 

Was  it  not  hate  to  stop  a  stranger's  way  7 


'  know]  Old  eJ.  "  knowei." 


rfo]  C 


THE  WISDOM  OF 


FAKAPU&ASED.      475 


Was  it  not  sin  to  see,  ami  not  to  know? 

Was  it  not  sin  to  know,  and  not  receive? 
Was  it  not  hate  to  be  a  stranger's  foe. 

And  make  tbem  captives  which  did  them  relieve  ? 
Ves,  it  was  greatest  sin  first  for  to  leave  them, 
And  it  was  greatest  hate  last  to  deceive  them. 

O  hungry  cannibals!   which  know  no  fill,  14 

But  still  do  starving  feed,  and  feeding  starve. 

How  could  you  so  deceive?  how  could  you  spilli 
Their  loving  selves  which  did  yourselves  pre- 


0,  say  that  cruelty  can  have  no  law. 

And  then  you  speak  with  a  mild-cruel  tongue ; 
Or  say  that  avarice  lodg'd  in  your  jaw. 

And  then  you  do  yourselves  but  little  wrong : 
Say  what  you  will,  for  what  you  say  is  spite 
'Gainst  ill-come  strangers,  which  did  merit  right. 

You  lay  in  ambush.— O  deceitful  snares,  15 

Enticing  baits,  beguiling  sentinels  !  — 

You  added  grief  to  grief  and  cares  to  cares. 

Tears  unto  weeping  eyes  where  tears  did  dwell : 

O  multitudes  of  sin,  legions  of  vice. 

Which  thaw'  with  sorrow  sorrow's  frozen  ice ! 

A  banquet  was  prepar'd,  the  fare  deceit. 
The  dishes  poison,  and  the  cup  despite, 

The  ubie  mischief,  and  the  cloth  a  bait, 

Like  spinner's  web  t"  entrap  the  strange  fly's  flight ; 

Pleasure  was  strew'd  upon  the  top  of  pain, 

Which,  once  digested,  spread  through  every  vein. 
'  ipilQ  i.  t.  dealroy.  '  lltaw']  Old  cd.  '•  Ibsw*," 


4T8      TBBH 


r  lOLOuoK  rAJuriiKAASD. 


O  ill  cDDiIuctors  of  misguidod  feet, 
Inio  a  way  o(  death,  a  path  of  guUe ! 

Poor  pilgrimg,  which  their  own  desUuction  meet 
In  habiuiinns  of  an  unknown  isle: 

O,  hail  they  left  thai  broad,  deceivii^  t*aj. 

They  had  been  right,  and  never  gone  astray  I 

But  mark  the  puniahmeni  nhich  did  enaue 

Upon  tlioae  ill-mislcnding  villaniea  ; 
Tbey  blinded  werr  tbenuelven  with  their  self  view, 

And  fell  tnlo  ihoir  own-made  miseries ; 
Seeking  ilie  entrance  of  ihcir  dwetling-|dtce* 
With  blinded  eye»  and  dark  misguided  faces. 

Lo,  here  waa  snares  ensnar'd  and  guiles  beguil'd. 
Deceit  decci?'d  and  mischief  was  misled,  IT 

Byes  blinded  sight  and  thoughts  the  hearts  dcGrd, 
Life  living  in  8»|>^cis  was  dying  dead  ; 

Eyes  thought  for  to  mislead,  and  were  misled, 

Feel  went  to  make  mist  reads,  and  did  mis  tread. 

At  this  proud  fall  the  elements  were  glad. 
And  did  embrace  each  other  with  a  kiss, 

All  things  were  joyful  which  before  were  sod; 
The  pilgrim*  in  their  way,  and  could  not  miss :  i 

As  when  the  sound  of  music  doth  resound 

With  changing  tune,  so  did  the  changed  gronnd. 


The  birds  forsook  the  air,  ilie  sheep  the  fold ; 

The  eagle  pitched  low,  the  swallow  high  ; 
The  nightingale  did  sleep,  and  uncanlraU'd 

Forsook  the  prickle  of  her  nature's  eye; 
The  scelyi  worm  was  friends  with  all  her  foes. 
And  suck'd  the  dew-tears  from  the  weeping  ros 

<  utiy}  See  uale,  p.  393. 


The  sparrow  lun'd  the  lark's  aweet  melody, 
The  lark  in  silence  sung  a  dirge  of  dole. 

The  linnet  hclp'd  the  lark  in  malady  ; 

The  swans  forsook  the  quire  of  biltow-roU  ; 

The  dry-land  fowl  did  make  the  sea  their  nest. 

The  wet-sea  lish  did  make  the  land  their  rest. 


The  swans,  the  quiristers  which  did  complain       1 
In  inward  feeling  of  an  outward  loss, 

And  fill'd  the  quire  of  waves  with  laving  pain. 
Yet  dancing  in  their  wail  with  surge's  toss, 

Forsook  heri  cradle- bj II ow-moun tain  bed, 

And  hies  her  unto  land,  (here  to  be  fed : 

Her  sea-fare  now  is  land-fare  of  content ; 

Old  change  is  changM  new,  yet  all  is  change  ; 
The  fishes  are  her  food,  and  they  arc  sent 

Unto  dry  land,  to  creep,  to  feed,  to  range : 
Now  coolest  water  cannot  quench  ihe  fire. 
But  makes  it  proud  in  hottest  hot  desire. 


The  evening  of  a  day  i; 

The  evening  of  a  nig 
The  one  is  Phrebe's  cH 

The  other  Phoebus'  i 


She 
Hen 


lakes  the 


□rn  to  night,  ! 

a  moro  to  day ; 
which  is  pale-bright, 
lore  light  array; 

'n  chill-cold  SI 


;l(s  their  eyes  and  makes  them  weep  for  v 


His  beams,  ambassadors  of  his  hot  will 
Through  the  transparent  element  of  air. 

Do ''  only  his  warm  ambassage  fulfil. 
And  melt'  the  icy  jaw  of  Phcebc's  hair; 

Yet  those,  though  fiery  flames,  could  not  thaw  cold, 

Nor  break  the  frosty  glue  of  winter's  mould. 

*  hir]  Is  rie(|jenlly  used  for  Iheir  by  duc  oarly  writeri  j  but 
moat  probably  in  the  pretcnl  paiiage  tbc  nulhor  changed  the 
number  ihraugb  cuGleiinesB. 

'  Co]  Old  ed,  "  Dolh,"  '  mell}  Old  ed.  "  melts." 


MICRO- CYNICON, 


SIX   SNARLING  SATIRES. 


Siie  Snarling  Sulyrri. 

Intatial 

Crm. 

PTBdigttU  Zodan. 

In.oU»t 

Superbia. 

Chtaliag 

Dnane. 

tngling 

Py™fer. 

Witt 

innvceiif. 

Jdiit  jmlehtT  homo  eonii  hie  tibi  pulcher  emtiuh.  Imprimltd  ai 
Landmi  by  Tharnat  Crteit,  far  Themv  Buthtlt,  and  are  Id  br 
leld  al  kit  ihap  at  Iht  North  deore  of  PaaUt  Church.  I^DS.  8vi>. 

"  In  1S99,"  Mys  Warton,  "  ippeared  '  Micbo-ctnicok  lixe 
marling  satyrei  br  T.  M.  Gentleman,'  perhaps  Thomas  Mid- 
dletoo."     Hill.  a/EngtUh  Portrii,  vol.  iv.  p.  70,  ed.  *to. 

On  account  of  tbe  coDcluding  couplet  of  the  "  DeSance  lo 
Enyy,"— 

"  I,  but  the  authar't  mouth,  bid  ihee  avaunt  I 
He  more  defiei  thy  hate,  ihy  hunt,  ihy  haunt," — 
and  became  that  "  Defiance  "  ii  fullowed  by  what  bears  ex- 
pressly the  title  of  "  The  Author's  Prologue,"  Mr.  J.  P.  Collier 
euspects  thai  T,  M.  was  only  the  author's  friend;  see  Tht 
Poetical  Dicamiron,  where  these  satires  are  noticed  at  con- 
siderable length,  vol.  i.  p.  282,  sqq. 

That  T.  M.  and  the  author  of  Micro-cijviam  were  ihe  same 
■on,  1  have  very  lillle  doubt;   but  that  he  was  Thomas 
Middletoti,  1  feel  by  no  means  confident. 


HIS  DEFIANCE'  TO  ENVY. 


Enty,  nhich  mak'st  lliyielf  in  common  guiie. 
To  haunt  deseTvers,  and  to  hunt  deMTts  ; 

Htrd-sotV,  cold -hot,  we  II -evil,  fooliih-w!»e, 
MiBConirarietiet,  agreeing  parts; 

Avauni,  I  say !  I'll  anger  thee  raough, 

And  fold  thy  fiery  eyea  in  thy  smasky'*  snufiT. 

Defiance,  resolution,  and  neglects. 

True  trine  of  bars  against  tliy  false  assault, 

Defies,  resolves  defiance,  and  rejects 
Thy  interest  to  claim  ihe  smallcil  fault : 

Tbou  lawless  landlady,  poor  prodigal. 

Sour  solace,  credit's  crack,  fear's  festival  I 

More  angry  aalire-dayi'  I'll  muster  up 

Than  thou  canit  challenge  letters  in  thjr  name; 
My  nigrum^  true-born  ink  no  more  shall  sup 
Thy  stained  blemish,  cbaracter'd  tn  blame  : 
My  pen's  two  nebs  shall  turn  unto  a  fork. 
Chasing  old  Envy  from  in  young  a  work : 
I,  but  the  author's  mouth,  hid  thee  avaunt! 
He  more  defies  thy  hate,  tliy  hunt,  thy  haunt. 

T.  M.  Gtni. 

'  Hit  AgCanci,  tsc]  In  imitnlian  of  Ilitl,  who  had  uihciF<l 
in  hii  Suirca  with  J  Drfianct  U  Envy. 

*  imatky]  L  t.,  ptrhapi,  imiichy  or  amcechy  (rcccbj. 
bUek.) 

*  latirt-ddyi]  "  Does  he  intend  to  pun  upon  ihc  last  diy 
of  ih«  week — Salurdaa  !  It  may  be  a  misprint  for  Sattfr-dnft. 
in  Blluaion  to  liil  title,  '  Sixe  Snaring  Salyre*.' "  Colliei'i 
P«I.  Dteam.  vol.  i.  p.  28G. 

in]  Old  ed.  "  Negrum :"  compare  p.  il  1. 


THE  AUTHOR'S  PROLOGUE. 

FIRST  BOOK. 


last, 


DisuoDNTEs  from  the  higli-aapiring  hills 
Which  the  all-empty  airy  kiDgdom  fills, 
Leaving  the  scorchM  mouniains  threatening  heavei 
From  whence  fell  fiery  rage  my  soul  hath  driven, 
Passing  the  down-sleep  valleys  all  in  hast,' 
Have  tript  it  through  the  woods  ;  and  now 
Ani  veiUd  with  a  siony  sanctuary, 
To  save  my  ire-stuft  soul,  lest  it  miscarry, 
From  threatening  storms,  o'erturning  verit; 
That  shames  to  see  truth's  refin'd  purity  ; 
Those  open  plains,  those  high  sky-kissing 
Where  huffing  winds  cast  up  their  airy  ace 
Were  too,  too  open,  shelter  yielding  none. 
So  that  the  blasts  did  tyrannize  upon 
The  naked  carcass  of  my  heavy  soul, 
And  with  their  fury  all  my  all  control. 
But  now,  environ'd  with  a  brazen  tower, 
1  little  dread  their  stormy-raging  power ; 
Witness  this  hlack  defying  embassy. 
That  wanders  them  beforne"  in  majesty, 
Undaunted  of  their  bugbear  threatening  words, 
Whose  proud-aspiring  vaunts  time  past  records. 
Now,  windy  parasites,  or  the  slaves  of  wine. 
That  wind  from  all  things  save  the  truth  divine, 

'  halt}  Frfiiuemly  thus  written  for  the  miteofthe  rhyme— 
evcD  loag  after  the  daie  of  the  present  poem  (a*  by  Butler  ir 
HntlibrBi,  &c.). 

•  iffontt']  Le.  before. 


494 

Wind,  turn,  and  toss  into  the  depih  of  spite. 

Your  devilish  venom  cannot  me  affright ; 

It  ia  a  cordial  of  a  candy  tasie, 

I'll  drink  it  up,  and  then  let 't  run  at  waste ; 

Whose  druggy  lees,  mix'd  nith  the  liquid  6ood 

Of  muddy  fell  defiance,  as  it  stood, 

I'll  belch  into  your  throats  all  open  wide. 

Whose  gaping  swallon  nothing  ninH  beside; 

And  if  it  venom,  take  it  as  you  list; 

He  spites  himself  that  spiles  a  satirist. 


MICRO-CYNICON. 


THE  nRST  BOOK. 

SATIRE  r.— INSATIATE  CRON. 
Cur  egil'  indignui  quiiquam,  li  divili  t 

Tims  waa  when  domi-declining  toothleaa  age 

Was  of  a  holy  and  divine  preaage. 

Divining  prudent  and  foretelling  truth, 

In  sacred  points  instructing  wandering  youth; 

But,  O  detraction  of  our  latter  days! 

How  much  from  verity  thia  age  eatrays. 

Ranging  the  briery  deserts  of  black  sin. 

Seeking  a  dismal  cave  to  revel  in ! 

This  latter  age,  or  member  of  that  lime 

Of  whom  my  snarling  Muse  now  thundereth  rhyme, 

Wander'd  the  brakes,  until  a  hidden  cell 

He  found  at  length,  and  still  therein  doth  dwell : 

The  house  of  gain  insatiate  it  ia, 

Which  this  hoar-aged  peasant  deema  hia  bliss. 

O  that  desire  raieht  hunt  amongst  that  fur! 

It  should  go  hard  but  he  would  loose  a  cur 

To  rouse  the  fox,  hid  in  a  bramble-buah, 

Who  frighteth  conscience  with  a  wry-mouth'd  push.* 

But  what  need  I  to  wish  or  would  it  thus. 

When  I  may  find  him  atarting  at  the  Burse,'' 

■  Cw  igtl,  &c.]  Har.  Sal.  ii.  2.  103. 

*  pwAj  See  note,  vol.  L  p.  29. 

^  Burie^  i.  t.  ihe  Royal  Excbsn^e, — for  the  New  Bxshange 
in  the  Slrsnd  (wliicb  out  early  wntera  generally  mean  when 
ihey  tocntion  "  llu  Bane")  was  nnt  yel  built. 


A^  fl^faa  fi4  «rtk«  c«»l  W^ 
OffcdICr  II  ifcMAwtwn  iinii 


Bnw  >ii^  ka  UmAm  r 


■  KM. 

■'d  Am  hdl-4fa«««(itig  biiss ; 
two  thb  keO  iiitriMti  M  Mi«el  bib. 
WbMC  »Ute  atfiei  hUA  fbriora  kmIi  ippdis : 
And  ifcai  a  wmi  a  Mine  bdarnag  goU, 
(Hd  n  ikat  he«v«s,  ]re«Bg  in  hciog  oU, 
FaDa  heMDang  den  tMo  ifcM  pit  of  wee, 
Fii  for  sadi  detieU  e*catttr«*i  orenhrew  ; 
To  make  ibw  pabUe  that  obMnrM  liea. 
And  more  appumt  Tulgar  tecreciM ; 
To  make  tliia  plain,  hanli  tmto  coomHw  wiis, 
Stmplicil;  in  common  judgment  sita. 
This  doirncast  aneel,  or  declining  saint, 
(•  greedy  Cron,  when  Cron  make*  his  compt  ;* 

'  men  eampmrl']  L  e.  wholly  c 
'  /.  wHTlal]  Q*.  "  immorul  " 


UICKO-CTKtCOK. 


487 


For  his  poor  creditors  fain  to  decay, 

Being  bankerouts,'  take  heels  and  run  away : 

Then  frantic  Cron,  gall'd  to  [lie  very  heart, 

In  some  by-corner  plays  a  devil's  part, 

Repining  at  the  loss  of  so  much  pelf, 

And  in  a  humour  goes  and  hangs  himself; 

So  of  a  saint  a  devil  Cron  la  made, 

The  devil  lov'd  Cron,  and  Cron  the  devil's  trade. 

Thus  may  you  see  such  angels  often  fall, 

Making  a  working-day  a  festival. 

Now  to  the  third  point  of  his  deity, 

And  that's  the  earth,  thus  reasons  credulity ; 

Credulous  Cron,  Cron  credulous  in  all. 

Swears  that  his  kingdom  is  in  general : 

As  he  is  regent  of  this  heaven  and  hell, 

So  of  the  earth  all  others  he'll  expel ; 

The  skies  at  his  dispose,  the  earth  his  own, 

And  if  Cron  please,  all  must  be  overthrown. 

Cron,  Cron,  advise  thee,  Cron  with  the  copper  nose, 

And  be  not  rui'd  so  much  by  false  suppose. 

Lest  Cron's  professing  holiness  turn  evil, 

And  of  a  false  god  prove  a  perfect  devil. 

I  prithee,  Cron.  find  out  some  other  talk. 

Make  not  the  Burse^  a  place  for  spirits  to  walk; 

For  doubtless,  if  thy  damned  lies  take  place. 

Destruction  follows  :  farewell,  sacred  grace ! 

Th'  Exchange  for  goodly  ^  merchants  is  appointed ; 

Wliy  not  for  me,  says  Cron,  and  mine  anointed  ? 

Can  merchants  thrive,  and  not  the  usurer  nigh? 

Can  merchants  live  without  my  company! 

No,  Cron  helps  all,  and  Cron  hath  help  from  none; 

What  others  have  is  Cron's,  and  Cron's  his  own  : 

And  Cron  will  hold  his  own,  or  't  shall  go  hard. 

The  devil  will  help  him  for  a  small  reward. 

'  UnktnmUl  i.  e.  bankrupts.         1  Burse]  Bee  note,  p.  485. 
*  ^Borf/y]  Cfr-  "godlj"! 


afwgpl.    II   —  ^MlyC  - 


J 


lt»ta_<^4rfA 


I      *i;;^_<^k 


»>«'J-.i.i  null h; 


uieao-CTKicoN, 

Zodon  must  have  liis  chariot  gilded  o'er ; 
And  when  he  triumphs,  four  bare  before 
In  pure  while  satin  lo  usher  out  his  way, 
To  make  liim  glorious  on  his  progress-day : 
Vail'  bonnet  he  that  doth  not,  passing  by, 


^  "ky, 

St  in  strongest  bold : 
orns  to  be  controli'd. 
a  mounted  beggar 
s  bear  sway  and  swagger  l 


Admiring  o 
Two  days  encag'd  at  It 
Storm  be  that  list,  he  e 
What!   is  it  lawful  thai 
May  uncontrolled  thus 
A  base-born 
Bred  in  a  cottage,  wandering  in  the  mire, 
With  nailed  shoes,  and  whipstafTin  bis  hand, 
Who  with  a  hey  and  ree  the  beasts  command ; 
And  being  seven  years  practis'd  in  thai  trade, 
At  seven  years"  end  by  Tom  a  journey  's  made 
Unto  the  city  of  fair  Troynovant ;  * 
Where,  through  extremity  of  need  and  want. 
He's  forc'd  to  trot  with  fardle  at  his  back 
From  house  to  house,  demanding  if  they  lack 
A  poor  young  man  that's  willing  to  take  pain 
And  mickle  labour,  though  for  little  gain. 
Well,  some  kind  Troyan,  thinking  he  hath  grace. 
Keeps  him  himself,  or  gets  some  other  place. 
The  world  now,  God  be  thank'd,  is  well  amended  ; 
Want,  that  ercwhile  did  want,  is  now  befriended  ; 
And  scraping  Cron  bath  got  a  world  of  wealth  : 
Now  what  of  that  ?  Cron'sdead;  w  he  re's  all  his  pelf  7 
Bequeathed  to  young  Prodigal ;  that's  well ; 
Hia  god  hath  lefl  him,  and  he's  fled  to  hell. 
See,  golden  aouls,  the  end  of  ill-got  gain. 
Read  and  mark  well,  to  do  the  like  refrain. 
Thia  youthful  gallant,  like  the  prince  of  pleasure. 
Floating  on  golden  seas  of  earthly  treasure. 


I  ^^'1^]^^,. 


r.  loB 


:.  London  (founded,  according  lo  ihe  fabu- 


I,  b/  the  Trojan  Brutua). 


•«•«»»■ 


I  ll    I  1 1  I 


■hai  ^i  **  ^ik  l>  ia>  a  bl  ^  « 
■iS.  ^^  Wk  la  ■^■BK.  k  tak  Id: 

fal.        .jUJt..  III. 

B.  .  ta^iW  A.  •-.  r^  fab  _«l 

T  a«»>itfaa*ar»Xar. 

*■*  J*^**  fa44«ifa,  1*  y*»  haaty' 

aa*  an*4  a  MH>T ! 


ftinSE  ni.-tS10UBT  KmBSXA. 


f  r    iiiTft 

ba  a^ana  tfack  •< 
n-fcrMf-J  ifch,  iiililii  ailiii-j. 
Faatcsliar'd  [i^fLU.  bd>  rf'  f    m. 
Wka  ada*  M^  do  radtn  a  ai  fii 
Cg.iii-ii  Jo«j.ly.o«t»»HabJo 
Ba^U  iaa  tfe  ar'm  kmc  tailiiii  M, 
Vbm  kad  iifilmiMg  wiajt  koU  pariaacat; 


491 

For  such  it  the  force  of  down-decliniDg  sin, 

Where  our  sbort-feather'd  peacocks  wallow  in. 

That  when  sweet  motions  urge  them  to  aspire. 

They  are  so  bathed  o'er  by  sweet  desire 

In  th'  odoriferous  fountain  of  sweet  pleasure, 

Wherein  delight  hath  all  embalm'd  her  treasure, — 

I  mean,  where  sin,  the  mistress  of  disgrace, 

Hath  residence  and  her  abiding  place ; 

And  sin,  though  it  be  foul,  yet  fair  in  this. 

In  being  painted  with  a  show  of  bliss  ; 

For  what  more  happy  creature  to  the  eye 

Than  is  Superbia  in  her  bravery? 

Yet  who  more  foul,  disrobed  of  attire? 

Pearl'd  with  the  botch  as  children  burnt  with  tire ; 

That  for  their  outward  cloak  upon  the  skin, 

Worser  enormities  abound  within : 

Look  they  to  that;  truth  tells  them  their  amiss. 

And  in  this  glass  all-telling  truth  it  is. 

When  welcome  spring  bad  clad  the  hills  in  green, 

And  pretty  whistling  birds  were  heard  and  seen, 

Superbia  abroad  'gan  take  her  walk. 

With  other  peacocks  for  to  find  her  talk : 

Kyron,  that  in  a  bush  lay  closely  couch'd. 

Heard  all  their  cbnt,  and  how  it  was  avouch'd. 

Sister,  says  one,  and  softly  pack'd  away, 

In  what  fair  company  did  you  dine  to-day? 

'Mongst  gallant  dames, — and  then  she  wipes  her  lips. 

Placing  both  hands  upon  ber  whalebone  hips, 

Puft  up  with  a  round-circling  farthingale: 

That  done,  she  "gins  go  forward  with  her  tale  :  — 

Sitting  at  table  carv'd  of  walnut-tree. 

All  covered  with  damask'd  n apery, 

Garaish'd  with  salts"  of  pure  beaten  gold, 

Whose  silver-plated  edge,  of  rarest  mould, 

■  ulli]  i.  e.  silt-cellan. 


KlCtM-CISKOS. 


Mov'd  admiration  in  my  Bcarching  eye, 

To  se«  the  goldsmith's  rich  krti6cy ; 

The  butler's  placing  o(  his  maDchets"  white, 

The  plated  cupboard,*'  for  our  more  delight. 

Whose  golden  beauty,  glancing  from  on  high, 

Illuminated  other  chambers  nigh  : 

The  (lowly  pacing  of  ilie  servingmen. 

Which  were  appointed  to  attend  ub  then, 

Holding  in  either  hand  a  silver  dish 

Of  costly  cales  of  far- fetch' d  dainty  fish. 

Until  they  do  approach  the  table  nigh. 

Where  the  appointed  carver  carefully 

Dischargeth  tliem  uf  their  full-freighted  hands. 

Which  instantly  upon  the  table  stands: 

The  music  sweet,  which  all  that  while  did  aound, 

Ravisli  the  hearers,  and  their  sense  confound. 

This  done,  the  master  of  that  sumptuous  feast, 

In  order  'gins  to  place  his  welcome  guest : 

Beauty,  first  seated  in  a  throne  of  statet 

Unmatchable,  disdaining  other  ipate, 

Shone  like  the  sun,  nhereon  mine  eyes  still  gu'd* 

Feeding  on  her  perfections  that  amai'dt 

But  O,  her  silver- framed  coronet, 

With  low-down  dangling  spangles  all  beset. 

Her  auniptuous  periwig,  her  curious  curls. 

Her  liigh-pric'd  necklace  of  entraildd  pearia. 

Her  precious  jewels  wondrous  to  behold. 

Her  basest  jem  fram'd  of  the  purest  gold  1 

O,  I  could  kill  rayseir  for  very  spite. 

That  my  dim  stars  give  not  so  clear  a  light ! 

Heart-burninff  ire  new  kindled  bids  despair. 

Since  beauty  lives  in  her,  and  I  want  fair  :V 

O  had  I  died  in  youth,  or  not  been  born. 

Rather  than  live  in  hate,  and  die  forlorn ! 


And  die  1  will, — therewith  alie  drew  a  kaife 
To  kill  herself,  but  Kyron  sav'd  her  life. 
See  here,  proud  puppets,  high-agpiring  evils, 
Scarce  any  good,  most  of  you  worae  than  devils, 
Excellent  in  ill,  ill  in  advising  well. 
Well  in  that's  worst,  worae  than  the  worst  in  hell ; 
Hell  is  stark  blind,  so  blind  most  women  be, 
Blind,  and  yet  not  blind  when  they  should  not  see. 
Fine  madam  Tiptoes,  in  her  velvet  gown, 
That  quotes''  her  paces  in  characters  down, 
Valuing  each  step  that  she  had  made  that  day 
Worth  twenty  shillings  in  her  best  array  ; 
And  why,  forsooth,  some  little  dirty  spot 
Hath  fell  upon  her  gown  or  petticoat ; 
Perhaps  that  nothing  much,  or  something  little, 
Nothing  in  many'a  view,  in  ber's  a  mickle, 
Doth  thereon  surfeit,  and  some  day  or  two 
She's  passing  sick,  and  knows  not  what  to  do : 
The  poor  handmaid,  seeing  her  mistress  wed 
To  frantic  sickness,  wishes  she  were  dead  ; 
Or  that  her  devilish  tyrannising  fits 
May  mend,  and  she  enjoy  her  Ibrmer  wits ; 
For  whilst  that  health  thus  counterfeits  not  well, 
Poor  here-at-hand  lives  in  the  depth  of  hell. 
Where  is  this  baggage  ?  where's  this  girl?  what,  ho! 
Quoth  she,  was  ever  woman  troubled  so  1 
What,  huswife  Nan!  and  then  she  'gins  to  brawl; 
Then  in  comes  Nan,— Sooth,  mistress,  did  you  callt 
Out  on  thee,  quean  I  now,  by  the  living  God, — 
And  then  she  strikes,  and  on  the  wench  lays  load  ; 
Poor  silly  maid,  with  finger  in  the  eye. 
Sighing  and  sobbing,  takes  all  patiently. 
Nimble  afTection,  stung  to  the  very  heart 
To  see  hei  fellow-maie  sustain  such  smart. 


491  WICKO-CTKICON, 

Flic*  to  the  Burse-gate'  for  ■  match*  or  two. 

And  salvei  th'  amiM,  there  ia  do  nior«  to  do : 

Quick-fooled  kindneis,  quick  as  itaelf  though^  4 

With  thai  welUpleaiing  news  but  lately  bought  i 

By  love's  assiduate  care  and  indutiry. 

Into  the  chamber  runs  immediately. 

Where  she  unlades  the  freight  of  meet  content. 

The  haggler  pleas'd  doih  rise  incontinent ; 

Then  thought  of  sickness  is  not  thought  upon, 

C^re  hath  no  being  in  her  mansion ; 

But  former  peacock- pride,  grand  insolence. 

Even  in  the  highest  thought  hath  residenre: 

But  it  on  tiptoe  stands  ;   welt,  what  of  that  J 

It  is  more  prompt  to  fall  and  ruinate; 

Anil  fall  it  will,  when  death's  shrill,  clamorous  bell 

Shall  summon  you  unto  the  depth  of  hell. 

Repent,  proud  princocks,'  cense  for  to  aspire. 

Or  die  to  lire  trith  pride  in  burning  lire. 


SATIRE  IV.— CHEATING  DROONE. 

Tliere  is  a  cheater  by  profession 
That  takes  more  shapes  than  the  chameleoD  ; 
Sometimes  he  jets"  it  Jn  a  black  furr'd  gown. 
And  that  is  when  he  harbours  in  the  town  ; 
Sometimes  a  cloak  to  mantle  hoary  age, 
lll-favour'd,  like  an  ape  in  spiteful  rage; 
And  then  he  walks  in  Paul's'  a  turn  or  two. 
To  see  by  cheating  what  his  wit  can  do : 

'  Boru-gale}  Seo  note,  p.  4SE.         •  match]   i.  e.  p«IH 

"  ^irinciKti]  Or  prinro-r, — i.e.  pert,  conceited  persOD : 

perhaps  the  luthor  uses  the  word  here  ai  the  plural  of  ;irtfi- 


MICRO-CYNICON. 


495 


Perhaps  he'll  tell  a  gentleman  a  tale 

Will  cost  him  twenty  angels*  in  the  sale  ; 

But  if  he  know  his  purse  well  lin'd  wiihio, 

And  by  that  means  he  cannot  finger  him, 

He'll  proffer  him  such  far-fet"  courtesy. 

Thai  shortly  in  a  tavern  neighbouring  by 

He  hath  encag'd  the  silly  gentleman, 

To  whom  he  proffers  service  all  he  can  : 

Sir,  1  perceive  you  are  of  gentle  blood. 

Therefore  I  will  our  cates  be  new  and  good ; 

For  well  I  wot  the  country  yieldeth  plenty. 

And  as  they  divers  he,  so  are  they  dainty  ; 

May  it  please  you,  then,  a  while  to  rest  you  merry, 

Some  cates  I  will  make  choice  of,  and  not  tarry. 

The  silly  cony''  blilhe  and  merrily 

Doth  for  his  kindness  thank  him  heartily; 

Then  hies  the  cheater  very  hastily. 

And  with  some  peasani,  where  he  is  in  fee, 

Juggles,  that  dinner  being  almost  ended. 

He  in  a  matter  of  weight  may  then  he  friended. 

The  peasant,  for  an  angel  then  in  hand. 

Will  do  whale'er  his  worship  shall  command. 

And  yields,  that  when  a  reckoning  they  call  in. 

To  make  reply  there's  one  to  speak  with  him. 

The  plot  is  laid;  now  comes  the  cheater  back. 

And  calls  in  haste  for  such  things  as  they  lack ; 

The  table  freighted  with  all  dainty  cates, 

Having  well  fed,  they  fall  to  pleasant  chates,* 

Discoursing  of  the  mickle  difference 

'Twixt  perfect  truth  and  painted  eloquence, 

Plain  troth,  that  harbours  in  the  country  swain  : 

The  cony  stands  defendant;  the  cheater's  vein 


4M 


laCKO-CTXKOK. 


la  u  Dpboli)  sn  doqiMBt  amooth  longne. 

To  be  ifBik'i  orator,  rigfattag  eToy  wrong. 

Befatr  the  cau*e  ooodnded  took  efleet, 

Ib  eoiDM  a  m«  of  Sdtlling  kium  abject. 

The  fery  tcfuse  of  that  lafable  rout. 

Half  slioea  upon  llneir  feel  torn  round  about, 

Sa«e  litili:  Dick,  th«  dapper  fitting  knare. 

He  had  a  ihrcadbane  coat  to  make  him  brave,' 

God  kaoix,  Kane  wonli  a  tester,^  if  it  were 

Valued  at  moat,  of  acTeti  it  was  too  dear. 

Well,  take  it  u  they  list,  Shakerag  came  in, 

Making  do  doubt  bai  ihej  xoold  like  of  him, 

And'  'twere  bm  for  his  person,  a  prettjr  lad. 

Well  qualified,  having  a  ringing  trade. 

Well,  to  it  was,  (he  chealer  mutt  be  coerry. 

And  he  3  MMig  muM  hare,  call'd  Hey-down-deirf : 

So  Dick  begins  to  sing,  the  GddleT£s]  play ; 

The  melancholy  cooy  replies,  nay,  nay. 

No  more  of  ihii ;  the  other^  bids  play  on, — 

Tis  good  our  spirits  should  something  work 

Tut,  gentle  sir,  be  pleasant,  man,  quoth  he, 

Yours  be  the  pleasure,  mine  the  charge  shall  b 

This  do  1  for  the  love  of  gentlemen: 

HereaAer  happily  if  we  meet  agen,* 

1  shall  of  you  expect  like  courtesy. 

Finding  fit  time  and  opportunity. 

Or  else  I  ttere  UDgraleful,  quolh  the  cony; 

It  shall  go  hard  but  ne  nill  find  some  money ; 

For  some  we  have,  that  some  well  us'd  gets  mm 

Aod  so  in  lime  we  shall  increase  our  store. 

Meaniime,  said  he,  employ  it  to  good  use. 

Far  time  ill  spent  doth  purchase  time's  abuse. 


MICEO-CYKICOK.  49 

With  that,  more  wine  he  calls  for,  and  intends 
That  either  of  them  carouse  to  alt  their  friends ; 
The  cony  nods  the  head,  yet  says  not  nay, 
Because  the  other  would  the  charge  defray. 
The  end  tries  all ;  and  here  begins  the  jest, 
My  gentleman  betook  him  to  his  rest ; 
Wine  took  possession  of  his  drowsy  head, 
And  cheating  Droone  halh  brought  the  fool  to  bed 
The  fiddlers  were  discharg'd,  and  all  things  whist 
Then  pilfering  Droone  'gan  use  him  as  he  list : 
Ten  pound  he  finds ;  the  reckoning  he  doth  pay. 
And  with  the  residue  passeth  sheer  away. 
Anon  the  cony  wakes ;  his  coin  being  gone, 
He  exclaims  against  dissimulation  ; 
But  'twas  too  late,  the  chealer  had  his  prey  :  — 
Be  wise,  young  heads,  care  for  an  alXer-day ! 


SATIRE  v.— INGLING'  PYANDER. 

Age  hath  his  infant  youth,  old  trees  their  sprigs, 

O'erspreading  branches  their  inferior  twigs  ; 

Old  beldam  hath  a  daughter  or  a  son. 

True  born  or  illegitimate,  all's  one  ; 

Issue  she  hath.     The  father  ?    Ask  you  me  7 

The  house  wide  open  stands,  her  lodging  's  free : 

Admit  myself  for  recreation 

Sometimes  did  enter  her  possession, 

It  argues  not  that  1  have  been  the  man 

That  first  kept  revels  in  that  mantian  :^ 

No,  no,  the  haggling  commonplace  is  old, 

The  tenement  hath  oft  been  bought  and  sold : 

•  wAlK]  i.  e.  Elill. 

'  hglhig]  See  new,  »ol.  i.  p.  301. 

(  manltanl  So  written  for  the  rhjin*. 


As  m  ^naAer  ■■  a  a,    , 

g  cjFe  aMi  gams'  besru  on  fiie, 
Wbaa  <Am)  ^  bhA  brow,  and  sndca  pr« 
La*-bacaiw  b«asai^  to  tbe  tenntinK  Inre. 
Vb^  A^  1  <loak  n  with  a  oowxttI  fear. 
Aad  Mftr  Ml  PyMdo'a  sia  appear  T 
I  wiD,  1  wOL    Yov  icaamf  Wby.  I'D  tcll, 
BecaoM  tiaM  waa  1  lov'd  PjwaAa  well ; 
Trac  tan  iadecd  wiD  kaU  lore'i  black  derame. 
So  Inalbei  nty  mm]  to  aeek  FjaDder'*  ituuiM. 
O,  bai  I  fccl  lite  worm  of  coDtciencc  cting, 
And  timantiat  nw  opoo  my  soul  lo  bring 
Sinfnl  Pyaader  into  open  *iew. 
There  to  receive  the  tbame  that  will  enioe  ! 

^  >«i]  L  c  tnm.  '  rnrmMiit]  Sm  nMe,  p.  489L  I 


O,  this  sad  passion  ofniy  heavy  soul 
Torments  my  heart  and  senses  do[th]  contioll 
Shame  thou,  Pyander,  for  I  can  but  shame. 
The  means  of  my  amiss  by  thy  means  came; 
And  shall  1  then  procure  eternal  blame, 
By  secret  cloaking  of  Pyander's  shame, 
And  he  not  blush  ? 

By  heaven,  I  will  not!  Pll  not  burn  in  hell 
For  false  Pyander,  though  1  lov'd  him  well ; 
No,  no,  the  world  shall  know  thy  villany, 
Lest  they  be  cheated  with  like  roguery. 
Walking  the  city,  as  my  wonted  use, 
There  was  I  subject  to  this  foul  abuse  : 
Troubled  with  many  ihoughta,  pacing  along. 
It  was  my  chance  lo  shoulder  in  a  throng; 
Thrust  to  the  channel  I  was,  but  crowding  her, 
1  spied  Pyander  in  a  nymph's  attire  : 
No  nymph  more  fair  than  did  Pyander  seem, 
Had  not  Pyander  then  Pyander  been  ; 
No  lady  with  a  fairer  face  more  grac'd, 
But  that  Pyander's  self  himself  defac'd  ; 
Never  was  boy  so  pleasing  to  the  heart      ^ 
As  was  Pyander  for  a  woman's  part ; 
Never  did  woman  foster  such  another 
As  n-aa  Pyander,  but  Pyander's  mother. 
Fool  thai  1  was  in  my  affection! 
More  happy  I,  had  it  been  a  vision ; 
So  far  entangled  was  my  soul  by  love. 
That  force  perforce  I  must  Pyander  prove  : 
The  issue  of  which  proof  did  testify 
Ingting  Pyander's  damnM  villany. 
1  lov'd  indeed,  and,  to  my  mickle  coat, 
1  Pyander,  so  my  labour  h 


Fair  words  I  had,  for  s 


BiJtn 


t  enjoy'd  the  fruit  I  thought  to  have. 


300  MIC&O-CIKICOK. 

0, 10  I  nas  besolled  with  her  words, 
Hii  <*ordi,  that  no  part  of  a  she  afTord*! 
For  had  he  been  a  she,  injurious  boy, 
1  had  not  been  lo  subject  to  annoy. 
A  pligne  upon  such  filthy  gultery  ! 
The  world  was  ne'er  ao  drunk  with  mockery. 
Raib-headed  cavaliers,  learn  to  be  wise ; 
And  if  you  needs  will  do,  do  with  ftdvice; 
Tie  not  aflTection  to  each  wanton  smile. 
Lest  doting  fancy  truest  loTC  be|;uile ; 
Trust  not  a  painted  puppet,  as  I've  done. 
Who  far  more  doted  than  Pygmalion  : 
The  streets  aie  full  of  juggling'  parasites 
With  the  true  shape  of  virgins'  counlerfeits  :* 
But  if  of  force  you  roust  a  hackney  hire. 
Be  curious  in  your  choice,  the  best  will  tire; 
The  best  is  bad,  therefore  hire  none  at  all ; 
Better  to  go  on  foot  than  ride  and  fall. 


SATIRE  VI.— WISE  INNOCENT,' 

Way"  for  an  innocent,  ho !     What,  a  poor  fool  f 
Not  so,  pure  ass.    Ass !  where  went  you  to  school  7 
With  innocents.     That  makes  the  fool  to  prate. 
Fool,  will  you  any  t     Yes,  the  fool  shall  ha't. 
Wisdom,  what  shall  he  have?    The  fool  at  least. 
Provender  for  the  ass,  ho  ]  stalk  up  the  besBt. 
What,  shall  wc  have  a  railing  innocent  1 
No,  gentle  gull,  a  wise  man's  precedent. 


^  r™,«rA«J  See 


igling"  t  {Old  cd.  "jugliug.") 


«N(]  i,'c.  fool,  idio'c 
■■  Way]  To  ihii  oord  (ohieh  is  doubtless  the  right  read- 
ing), the  "  Why"  of  old  ed.  hu  been  altered  with  a  pen  in 
the  Bodleian  copy. 


MICRO-CYNICON.  501 

Then  forward,  wisdom.     Not  without  I  list. 

Twenty  to  one  this  fool's  some  satirist. 

Still  doth  the  fool  haunt  me  ;  fond™  fool,  begone  ! 

No,  1  will  stay,  the  fool  to  gaze  upon. 

Well,  fool,  stay  Btill.     Still  shall  the  fool  stay?  no. 

Then  pai^k,  simplicity  !    Good  innocent,  why  go  ? 

Nor  go  nor  stay,  what  will  the  fool  do  then  ? 

Vex  him  that  seems  to  vex  all  other  men. 

'Tis  imjMsaible  ;  streams  that  are  barr'd  their  course 

Swell  with  more  rage  and  far  more  greater  force. 

Until  their  full-stuft  gorge  a  passage  makes 

Into  the  wide  maws  of  more  scopious"  lakes. 

Spite  me!  not  spite  itself  can  discontent 

My  steeled  thoughts,  or  breed  disparagement : 

Had  pale-fac'd  coward  fear  been  resident 

Within  the  bosom  of  me,  innocent, 

I  would  have  hous'd  me  from  the  eyes  of  ire. 

Whose  bitter  spleen  vomits  forth  flames  of  Bre.  ' 

A  resolute  ass  !    O  for  a  spurring  rider! 

A  brace  of  angels  !"     What,  is  the  fool  a  briber? 

Is  not  the  ass  yet  weary  of  his  toad  1 

What,  with  once  bearing  of  the  fool  abroad? 

Mount  again,  fool.     Then  the  ass  will  tire. 

And  leave  the  fool  to  wallow  in  the  mire. 

Dost  thou  think  otherwise  7  good  asa,  then  begone  ! 

I  stoy  but  till  the  innocent  get  on. 

What,  wilt  thou  needs  of  the  fool  bereave  me  7 

Then  pack,  good,  foolish  ass !  and  so  I  leave  thee. 

^  /mrf]  See  nole,  p.  3+3. 

■  fcoptou]  i.  e.  spacious,  ample. 

°  angeli]  See  note,  p.  20. 


EPILOGUE 


LAST  SATIRE  OF  THE  FIRST  BOOK. 


Thus  may  we  see  by  folly  of  [i]  the  wise 

Stumble  and  fall  into  fool's  pajadisc. 

For  jocund  wit  of  force  must  jangling  be  ; 

Wit  musi  have  hi*  will,  and  so  had  he: 

WU  muBt  havci  his  will,  yel,  parting  of  ibe  frajr. 

Wit  was  enjoin'd  to  carry  the  fool  awxy, 

Qui  color'  alimt  erat,  nunc  eil  coHtrariut  albo. 


'  tkifril  iooli)  Notecond  Book  ii  known  ta  have  ■ppeartd. 

I  mmil  han]  The  6nt  word  ii  deleted,  and  the  aecond  il- 
Icred  with  ■  pen  to  "hid,"  in  ihe  Bodleiao copy  of  thu  poem, 
— ■  probnbic  GorrectioD- 

'  (tiii  iviar.  Sis.]  Olid,  Mttam.  li.  A*l. 


On  the  death*  of  thai  great  vnuter  in  his  art  and 
quality,  •painting  and  playing,  R[ichard]  Buk- 


AsTBOHOMBRs  and  Btar-gaxers  this  year 
Write  but  of  four  eclipses  ;  five  ap{)ear, 
Death  interposing  Burbage;  and  their  staying 
Hath  made  a  visible  eclipse  of  playing. 

TllO.  MiDDLETON. 

•  On  the  death,  &c.]  Theae  linn  (the  meaning  of  wbich  U 
lufficienily  obicure)  nere  Rni  printed  in  Collier'i  Sew  Facit 
rtgarding  Ihe  Life  nf  Skahtipeart,  p.  26.  from  a  MS.  miiccllatiy 
of  poetry  belonging  lo  ihe  Isle  Mr,  Heber.  The  cttebrned 
actor,  Burbage  (who  olao  bandied  ibi!  pencil,  and  is  suppoied 
to  have  painted  the  Chandoa  portrait  of  Sbakeipeare),  died 
in  March  1618-19. 


/n    the  Jutl  rrorth*    of  that    well  -  deterver,   . 

Joim    Webster,    and   upon    Ihu    mcuterpiect  of 
tragrdy. 

In  this  ihou  Imitat'st  one  rich  snd  wise. 

That  sees  liis  good  deeds  done  before  he  dies ; 

A*  he  by  works,  thou  by  this  nork  of  fame 

Ha«t  nell  provided  for  thy  living  name. 

To  trust  to  othera'  lionourtngs  is  worth's  crime ; 

Thy  tnonumeot  is  rais'il  in  thy  life-titne; 

And  'tis  mott  just,  for  every  worthy  man 

Is  his  own  marble,  and  his  merit  can 

Cut  him  10  any  iigure,  and  express 

More  art  than  death's  cathodral  palaces. 

Where  royal  ashes  keep  their  court.     Thy  note   I 

Be  ever  plainness,  'tis  the  richest  coat  r 

Thy  epitaph  only  the  title  be, — 

Write  Ducheu.  that  will  fetch  a  tear  for  tJiee  ; 

For  who  e'er  law  this  duchess  live  and  die, 

That  cotUd  get  off  under  a  bleeding  eye  1 

In  Tragcediam. 
Ut  liu  ex  lenebru  ictu  pcrcussa  tonantlf. 
Ilia,  mind  malit,  elarisfit  tila  poclit. 

ThOHAS  MiDDLKTOin 
Potia  <(  Chraw.  L 

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


THE  BLACK  BOOK. 


The  Blaeke  Booke, 
Chorlton,  1604.  4to. 


Limdom  Printed  by  T,  C.  for  J«(frey 


THE  EPISTLE  TO  THE  READER  ; 


THE  TRUE  CHARACTER  OP  TUIS   BOOE. 


To  all  those  that  are  truly  TJrtnoiu,  aoil  can  unA 
pitch  and  yet  never  defile  themselveK ;  read  the 
miichievou*  lives  and  pernicious  practices  of  rO- 
lains,  ^and  yet  be  never  the  worse  at  the  end  of  the 
book,  but  rather  confirmed  the  more  in  their  hoiwtt 
estates  and  the  uprightness  of  their  virtues; — to 
such  I  dedicate  myself,  the  wholesome  intent  of  my 
laboars,  the  modesty  of  my  phrases,  that  even  falusb 
when  they  discover  vices  and  unmask  the  world's 
■hadowed  riltanies :  and  I  account  him  as  a  traitor 
to  virtue,  who,  diving  into  the  deep  of  this  cunning 
Mge,  and  finding  there  such  monsters  of  nature, 
such  speckled  lumps  of  poison  as  panders,  harlots, 
nnd  ruffians  do  figure,  if  he  rise  up  silent  again, 
and  neither  discover  or  publish  them  to  the  civil 
rank  of  sober  and  continent  livers,  nho  thereby 
may  shun  those  two  devouring  gulfs,  to  wit,  of 
deceit  and  luxury,*  nhich  swallow  up  more  mortals 
than  Scylla  and  Charybdis,  those  [wo  cormorants 
■ind  Woolners''  of  the  sea,  one  tearing,  the  other 

'  /luvry]  L  e.  luit.  lendoESa. 

•   IFiKlntr.']  Out  old  writer*  o, 
named  Woolner,  or  Wolner,  u  *  oolonou*  gormandiaer; 
I>ekker  calls  bim  "  that  cannon  of  glutloaj,"  7^  Oxelti  lU- 


devouring.  Wherefore  I  freely  persuade  myself,  no 
virtuous  spirit  or  judicial  worlliy  but  will  approve 
my  politic  moral,  wliere,  under  the  shadow  of  the 
devil's  legacii-s,  or  his  bequeathing  to  villains,  1 
strip  their  villanies  naked,  and  bare  the  infectious 
bulks'^  of  craft,  cozenage,  and  panderism,  ilie  three 
bloodhounds  of  a  cominonwealih.  And  thus  far  I 
presume  that  none  will  or  can  except  at  this  — 
which  1  call  the  Black  Book,  because  it  doubly 
damns  the  devil  —  but  some  tainted  harlot,  noseless 
bawd,  obscene  ruffian,  and  such  of  the  same  black 
nature  and  iilthy  condition,  that  poison  the  towardly 
spring  of  gentility,  and  corrupt  with  the  mud  of 
mischiefs  the  pure  and  clear  streams  ofa  kingdom. 
And  to  spurgal]  such,  who  reads  me  shall  know  I 
dare  ;  for  I  fear  neither  the  ratsbane  of  a  harlot 
nor  the  poniard  of  a  villain. 

T.  M. 


Woollier  ihe  ainging  man  of  Windior,  ihit  wai  the  great 
and  how  sbe  made  him  pay  Tor  hii  breakefasL" 
ttj]  i.e.  bodiea. 


A  MORAL. 

LvciTER  atcrruiing,  at  Prologue  to  hit  ottn  Play. 

Now  is  hell  landed  here  upon  the  earth. 

When  Lucifer,  in  limba  of  burning  golij, 

Ascends  thti  dusiy  theatre  of  the  norld. 

To  join  hii  powers ;  and,  were  it  number'd  well. 

There  are  more  devils  on  earth  than  are  in  liell. 

Hence  springs  my  damned  joy ;  my  tortur'd  spleen 

Melts  into  mirthful  humour  at  this  fate, 

That  heaven  is  bung  so  high,  drawn  up  ao  far. 

And  made  so  fast,  nail'd  up  with  many  a  star  ; 

And  hell  the  very  shop-board  of  the  earth. 

Where,  when  1  cut  out  souls,  I  throw  the  sbreda 

And  the  white  linings  of  a  new-soil'd  spirit, 

Pawn'd  to  luxurious"  and  adulterous  merit. 

Yen.  that's  the  sin,  and  now  it  takes  her  turn. 

For  which  the  world  shall  like  a  strumpet  burn  ; 

And  for  an  instance  lo  fire  false  embraces, 

I  make  the  world  burn  now  in  secret  places : 

I  haimt  invisible  corners  as  a  spy, 

And  in  adulterous  circles  there  rise  I ; 

There  am  I  conjur'd  up  through  hot  desire. 

And  where  hell  rises,  lliere  must  needs  be  fire. 

And  now  that  I  have  vaulted  up  so  high 

Above  the  stage-rails  of  this  earthen  globe, 

I  must  turn  aclor  and  join  companies. 

To  share  my  comic  sleek-ey'd  villanies ; 

For  I  must  weave  a  thousand  ills  in  one. 

To  please  my  black  and  burnt  affection. 

Why,  every  term-time  I  come  up  to  throw* 

Dissension  betwixt  ploughmen  that  should  sow 

The  field's  vast  womb,  and  make  the  harvest  grow  : 


«]  J. 


*  firoB.]  Old  (U.  ■■ 


511 

So  comeg  it  oft  to  pass  dear  years  befal, 
When  ploughmen  leave  the  field  to  till  ihe  ball ; 
Thus  famine  and  bleak  dearth  do  greet  the  land, 
When  the  plough's  held  between  a  lawyer's  hand. 
I  fat  with  joy  to  see  how  the  poor  swains 
Do  box  their  country  thighs,  carrying  their  packets 
Of  writings,  yet  can  neither  read  nor  write  : 
They're  like  to  candles,  if  they  had  no  light; 
For  they  are  dark  within  in  sense  and  judgment 
Aa  is  the  Hole ^ at  Newgate;  and  their  thoughts 
Are,  like  the  men  that  lie  there,  without  spirit. 
This  strikes  my  black  soul  into  ravishing  music. 
To  see  swains  plod  and  shake  their  ignorant  skulls  ; 
For  they  are  nought  but  skull,  their  btain  but  burr. 
Wanting  wit's  marrow  and  the  sap  of  judgment; 
And  how  they  grate  with  their  hard  naily  soles 
The  stones  in  Fleet-street,  and  strike  fire  in  Paul's  ; 
Nay,  with  their  heavy  trot  and  iron  stalk, 
They  have  worn  off  the  brass  in  the  Mid-walk.* 
But  let  these  pass  for  bubbles,  and  so  die, 
For  I  rise  now  to  breathe  my  legacy. 
And  make  my  last  will,  which,  I  know,  shall  stand 
As  long  as  bawd  or  villain  strides  ihe  land. 
For  which  I'll  turn  my  shape  quite  out  of  verse, 
Mov'd  with  the  Supplication  ■"  of  poor  Pierce, 
That  writ  so  rarely  vUlanous  from  hence 
For  spen ding-money  to  my  excellence  ; 
Gave  me  my  titles  freely  ;'  for  which  giving, 
I  rise  now  to  take  order  for  his  living. 


1 


;,  vol.  i 


>.  362. 


i.  p.  4  IB. 

<>  iht5«pplkaHen,&c.']  i.  t.  Pitrci  Penniltut  hit  Supplicatim 
lo  Ihi  Diuell,  one  of  thi  most  celebrated  and  populiT  pioduc- 
tiont  of  thit  ndminble  praie-ialiTJit,  Thomu  Nuh.  It  lint 
nppesred  in  1292,  during;  which  year  (see  CoUier'a  Bridge- 
ivalir- limit  Catalogue,  p.  200)  it  readied  a  third  edition. 

'  Gave  mr  mj/  liflet freely]  "  To  tlie  high  and  mighlie  Prince 
of  darkoesae,  DDDieil  detl  Lucifer,  King  afAcberao,  Stii  *ad 


513 


The  black  Knight  of  the  Post  J  mhortly  r 
From  hell,  nhere  many  a  tobacconist  but 
With  nevrs  to  smoky  galUnte,  riotous  heirs. 
Strumpets  that  follow  t  beat  res  and  fairs, 
Oilded-nos'd  usurers,  bsse-raetaU'd  paaden. 
To  cop  per- captains  and  Piei-hatch*  cotnmuidera, 
To  all  infectious  caichpolls  tlirougli  the  town. 
The  very  speckled  vermin  of  a  crown  : 
To  these  and  those  and  every  damned  one 
111  bequeath  leKacies  to  thrive  upon; 
Amongst  the  wiiiE^h  I'll  ^ive  for  his  redress 
A  standing  pension  to  Pierce  Pennyless. 

Phlc^lon,  Duke  of  Tirlirjr,  Msr<|Uc(K  of  CocyiuK,  and  L 
bitth  Rfgent  of  Ljrmbo,"  8:c     Ptrrtf  fmniluit.  Sic,  lig.  ■  !. 
Hi.  IS9G. 

'  KnigM  Iff  Ihr  Pull  — Or,  u  the  term  is  aTtcntardiTiried  ia 
the  present  piece,  "  Knight  of  Perjury" — nieana  a  hireling  evi- 
dence. &c.:  we  note.  ToT.  1.  p.  30S.  Nmh  makei  Pierce  cDminil 
hu  SupplicBiion  lo  the  care  of  a  knight  of  the  post,  who  de- 
scribe! himtelf  l<i  be  "  ■  felLov  that  mil  sweire  JDU  sny  thin^ 
for  rnelue  pence,  bul  indeed  [  am  a  ipiKl  in  nature  and 
essence,  that  lake  vpan  me  this  humane  shape,  onety  to  *rt 
men  together  by  the  eares,  and  send  soules  by  millions  id 
helL"     Pirrct  PenniUiu.  &e.,  lig.  s.  ed.  Ifi95. 

In  "  A  priuale  Epistle  to  the  Priuter,"  originaily  prefixed 
to  the  secnnd  ed.  of  the  tract  just  quoted,  the  au^or  tfllshim 
that  "  if  my  leysure  were  such  ai  I  could  viih.  I  ninfhl  bspi 
(halfe  a  fesre  bence)  write  the  returnc  of  the  Knight  of  the 
Post  from  bell,  with  the  DiueU  nntwere  to  the  Supplication." 
Sig.  A  2.  ed.  U<)£.  What  Nuh  wanted  time  or  inclinaUon  lo 
do,  WIS  sltemptcd  by  others  after  hii  decease  ;  a  writer,  who 
profeuea  to  have  been  his  "inliniate  and  near  companion," 
putrorth  Tha  fUlume  af  thr  Kniekl  of  thi  Pail /nm  HiU,  1606: 
and  Dekker  pubtished  a  patnplilet,  of  the  same  dale,  called 
Neuvifrom  Hell,  Brought  by  Ikt  Diiulli  Carrier,  the  ruDniog 
title  of  which  is  Tht  Dimli  AnHetre  la  Pltrct  Pimyltat. 

^  Fiel-liaick]  Was  a  notDriaushaunt  of  proBtituleaand  the 
worst  characters  of  both  lexei.— "  the  very  skirls  of  all  bro- 
thel-bouies,"  as  it  is  presently  termed  by  our  author.     Iljs 


THE  BLACK  BOOK. 


No  sooner  was  Pierce  Pennyless  breaiheil  forth, 
but  I,  the  light-burning  sergeant,  Lucifer,  quenched 
my  fiery  shape,  and  whipl  into  a  constable's  night- 
gown, the  cunningest  habit  that  could  be,  to  search 
tipsy  taverns,  roosting  inns,  and  frothy  alehouses; 
when  calling  together  my  worshipful  bench  of  bill- 
men,'  I  proceeded  toward  Pict-hatch,  intending  lo 
begin  there  first,  which  (as  I  may  fitly  name  it)  is  the 
very  skirls  of  all  brothel-houses.  The  watchmen, 
poor  night-crows,  followed,  and  thought  still  they 
had  had  the  constable  by  the  hand,  when  they  had 
the  devil  by  the  gown-sleeve.  At  last,  I  looking 
up  to  the  casements  of  every  suspected  mansion, 
and  spying  a  light  twinkling  between  hope  and 
desperation,  guessed  it  to  be  some  sleepy  snuff,  ever 
and  anon  winking  and  nodding  in  the  socket  of  a 
candlestick,  as  if  the  Hame  had  been  a-departing 
from  the  greasy  body  of  Simon  Snulf  the  stinkard. 
Whereupon  I,  the  black  constable,  commanded  my 
white  guard  not  only  to  assist  my  oflicc  with  their 
brown  bills,  but  to  raise  up  ihe  house  extempory : 
with  that,  the  dreadful  watchmen,  having  authority 

d  bill,  (a  kind  of 


o«t  tt  At  wradow,  dnusdioc  tlie  nuoa  why  ibcj 

~'  _u*ifj-    I  (Ml)  her  ia  pUia  tana 

ikM  I  had  ■  wiiniM  to  Much  fron  the  abenffof 

How!    (ioa  ^  •lietiS'  of  Linw  rtitat 

■  wimblfr-clua  (far  k>  ifae  tiMkniood 

had  baea  IittttB  ibt 

■  dmm  of  My  bome 

1  It  ofm  tad  r«ecm  jroo,  naaier  eo       " 

Wtth  taat,  at  ban^  ibe  watchword,  two  c 

vaalied  oal  of  tbair  bed*  U  once,  oae  sweuin^ 

■tocks  aad  Mooca,  be  eomld  doi  Gad  Kis  Mockian 

ixbar  tbat  tbej  mold  iwt  hit   upon   tb«ir  fabe 


tbeir  Beah  u  th«y  eoM, 
iwdve 


lima  mittt)  i  wfa*  d 

•ban  It  opau  Mo  rvedre  jroo,  naaier  coosiabfe. 


I  to  weak  nmfa   and   Uume   nytelt 

m  aa  doae  to  t''       ~    ' 
aad  never  pot  than  off  nae 
old.     At  laat  tbey  shaSed  up,  and  were  abut  oat 


■  that  HggBJ  (hmag  dwa)  «iA 


-  Tbr  tao*  ■«■  te  «•  fa  «iib  ohu  ikn  (I 
IWr  dM*  wiB  faa^  lika  addcn  b7  E«e< 

ToL  ».  p.  n. 
Wk«  h  b  ffMllMMri  Am  n«  WmI  £«»  nkd  ratibr  &»- 
I  IUb  ws«  nUiAad  ntbom  tba  wtitcr-B  Bi^  ba^i« 
J  tba  iwddt  T.  M.  nkaertbcd  w  a  imteoiT  adliw^ 
C  paiaUd  pavaga  from  HidilMoa'*  A 


"-'  ]  i.«.  Itfll,— prop^rlf,  the  bmdcn  ofbcIL    Com- 
from  Xub,  note,  p.  513. 


J 


THE  BLACK  BOOK.  515 

at  the  back  part,  as  I  came  in  at  the  north  part. 
Up  the  stairs  I  went  to  Examine  the  feather-beds, 
and  carry  the  sheets  before  the  justice,  for  there 
nas  none  else  then  to  carry  ;  only  the  floor  was 
sireiveil  with  busk -points,''  silk  garters,  and  shoe- 
strings, scattered  here  and  there  for  haste  to  make 
away  from  me,  and  the  farther  such  run,  the  nearer 
they  come  to  me.  Then  another  door  opening 
rearward,  there  came  puffing  out  of  the  next  room 
a  villanous  lieutenant  without  a  band,  as  if  he  had 
been  new  cut  down,  like  one  at  Wapping,  with  his 
cruel  garters'  about  hia  neck,  which  fitly  resembled 
two  of  Derrick's  necklaces.*  He  bad  a  head  of 
hair  like  one  of  my  devils  in  Doclryr  Faustus,^  when 
the  old  theatre  cracked  and  frighted  the  audience : 
his  brow  was  made  of  coarse  bran,  as  if  all  the 
flour  had  been  bolted  out  to  make  honester  men, 
so  ruggedly  moulded  with  chaps  and  crevices,  that 
I  wonder  how  it  held  together,  had  it  not  been 
pasi«d  with  villany :  bis  eyebrows  jetted  out  like 
the  round  casement  of  an  alderman's  dining-room, 
which  made  his  eyes  look  as  if  they  bad  been  both 
dammed  in  his  head  ;  for  if  so  be  ttvo  souls  had 
been  so  far  sunk  into  hell-pits,  they  would  never 
have  walked  abroad  again:  hia  nostrils  were  cousin- 
germans  to  coral,  though  of  a  softer  condition  and 

1  bvi!i-pt}inli\  i.  e.  the  lagged  Ucea  by  which  the  busks 
[pieces  of  wood  or  whalebone  worn  down  the  front  of  the 
etayt)  were  fastened. 

'  tTHtl  garliri]  We  have  the  game  pun  in  ShikesoHTe's 
King  Ltar,  act  ii.  ic.  4,  in  Ben  Jonson'i  Ahhrmiil,  act  i.  so.  ], 
and  elsewhere.     Creail  means  a  finer  kind  of  yarn. 

*  Derriek't  mcklacei']  i.e.  tbe  hanginiui'a  ropes:  Derrick, 
who  is  often  menlioned  by  our  old  wrilen,  was  the  cainmon 
hangmsn. 

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


E   BLACK   BOOS. 


■  616 

H  of  ■  more  relenting  kumouT :  )iU  crow-black  niu- 

H  c)uitocs°  were  klmott  lialf  «□  ell  from  one  end  to 

H  ihc  other,  wt  ihougli  ilic^y  would  whisper  him  in 

H  the  ear  about  a  cheat  or  a  murder  ;  anil  his  whole 

H  &ce  in  general  was  more  detestable  ugly  than  the 

H  visage  of  tny  ^rim  porter  Cerberus,  which  shewed 

H  that  all  his  body  besides  was  made  of  filthy  dust 

H  and  sea-coal  ashes :   a  down  countenance  be  had, 

H  aa  if  he  would  have  looked  thirty  mile  into  hell, 

H  and  seen  Sisyphus  rolling,  and  Ixion  spinning  and 

H  reeling.      Thus   Jn  a  pair  of  hoary  slippers,  hit 

H  Biockinga  dangling  about  his  wrists,  and   his  red 

H  buttons  like  foxes  out  of  ilieir  holes,  be  began,  like 

H  the  true  champion  of  a  vaulting- house,'  first  to 

H  fray  me  with  the  bugbears  of  his  rough-cast  beard, 

H  and  then  to  sound  base  in  mine  ears  like  the  bear- 

V  garden  drum  ;  and  this  was  the  humour  he  put  on, 

'  and  tlie  very  apparel  of  his  phrosrs :  Why,  master 
conatnble,  dare  you  balk  us  in  our  own  mansion, 
ha?  What!  is  not  our  house  our  Cole -harbour,' 
our  castle  of  come-down  and  lie>down  t    Musi  my 

■  nvchaioeil  i.  e.  muiUcluM.     So  S.  Roirley  i 
"  Had  my  Barbour 

Ptrfum'd  my  lousy  thslcli  here,  and  poak'd  oat 
My  TuskFB  mare  ilifTe  Ihan  art  ■  Can  MHieMaloft, 
Tbeie  pide-wing'd  Buiterflyei  had  knowne  me  iheo." 

nr  f^'obU  SpanUk  Soldier,  1634,  sig.  c 

The  linn  jiut  quoted  lecm  to  ihor,  Ibat,  when  Ursula  uy< 
lo  Knockem,  "  never  tuak  nor  twirl  your  dibble"  (D.  Jonion't 
Barlhottmiw  Fair—Horli,  Vol.  iv.  p.  4UJ,  ibe  means  ■■«■ 
iiiiliia,  and  nol  («  Giflord  conlNtured)  ttatil,  Mualachioa, 
by  bpiag  itarched  oi  pinnncd,  were  mxte  to  project  froni  the 
corners  of  Ihe  moulh. 

'  taalliig-^imit]  i,  e.  brotbal. 

■  Cott'liatlaur]  L  e.  Moctuaiy:  tee  note,  toI.  iL  p.  fig. 


4 


THE  BLACK   DOOK.  517 

lionest  wedded  punk  liere,  ray  glory-fat  Audrey,^ 
be  taken  napping,  and  raised  up  by  the  lliunder  of 
bill-men?'  Are  we  disannulled  of  our  first  sleep, 
and  cheated  of  our  dreams  and  fantasies?  Is  tliere 
not  Ian  too  for  stealing  away  a  raan's  stumbers,  as 
well  as  for  sheets  off  from  hedges!  Come  you  to 
search  an  honest  bawdy -liouae,  this  seven  and 
twenty  years  in  fame  and  shame  1  Go  to,  then,  you 
shall  search,  nay,  my  very  boots  too  ;  are  you 
well  now  ?  the  least  hole  in  ray  house*  too  ;  are  you 
pleased  now?  Can  we  not  take  our  ease  in  our 
inn, **  but  we  raust  come  out  so  quickly?  Naud,'' 
go  to  bed,  sweet  Naud  ;  thou  wilt  cool  ihy  grease 
anon,  and  make  ihy  fat  cake.  This  said,  by  the 
virliie  and  vice  of  my  office  I  commanded  my  bill- 
men  down  stairs;  when  in  a  twinkling  discovering 
myself  a  little,  as  much  as  might  serve  to  relish 
me,  and  shew  what  sluff  I  was  made  of,  1  came 
and  kissed  the  bawd,  hugged  her  excellent  vil- 
lanies  and  cunning  rare  conveyances;''  then  turning 
myself,  I  threw  mine  arms,  like  a  scarf  or  bandi* 
leer,*  cross  the  lieutenant's  melancholy  bosom,  em- 
braced   his    resolute    phrases    and    his    dissolute 

I  ghrg-fal  Judrry^  "  HercB  fine  Backon  Si«ler  its  ghtt 
Fal."  loriiSIre  Diahgne,  p.  1*  (sppended  lo  Thi  Praiu  tjf 
YarkthireJU,  1097).  (he  ClavU  to  which  hai  ■•  Glare  fat  is  very 
fau"— The  compiler  or  the  Fourth  PirtotBiblhI>iecaHei4natia, 
in  some  remarki  on  Tlii  Black  Book,  uya  (p.  IKl),  witb  refer- 
ence lo  the  preaenl  paEiagc,  that  "  nobouy  has  noticed  (he 
allution  10  Bhikeipeare's  Ai  jrok  lUii  ii,  and  the  msrriige  of 
TouchstoDe  and  Audrey"  1 1 1 

"  e,p.SI3.  ■        '   "      


'  lait  01 


,J]  A  c< 


'  cmMjonwi]  i.  e.  diit 

•  handihtrl  i.  e,  broad 

over  the  left  ihoulder,  to ' 


NX]  See  note,  p.  IBS. 
n  of  Audrey. 

t  tricki,  juggling  Brliflcea. 
ern  belt,  vtorn  by  a  muaqueteer 
1  Here  appended  a  mall  powder- 


J 


SIS  IKE  BLACK  BOOK. 

huinoun,  liiglily  comnaending  the  damnable  trade 
and  detntnbie  cdutbc  of  their  living,  as  excellent- 
filibv  and  «i  admirable -villanoua.  Whereupon 
ihia  lieutenBDi  of  Pii-i-haicli*  fell  into  deeper  les 
and  farther  Bciguainiance  vrith  the  blackness 
boaoin,  sometimeB  calling  me  master  Luci 
head-boTOUgh,  sometimes  master  Devillin  ih 
black  constable.  I'bcn  telling  me  he  heard  fro« 
Limbo'  the  second  of  the  last  month,  and  that  he  had 
the  letter  to  shevr,  where  they  were  all  very  merry  f* 
marry,  na  he  told  me,  there  nere  some  of  his  friends 
in  PhlegethoD  troubled  with  the  heart-burning  ;  yea, 
and  with  the  soul-burning  too,  thought  I,  though 
thou  little  dreamost  of  the  torment :  then  com- 
plaining to  me  of  their  bad  takings  all  the  last 
plaguy  summer.!'  that  there  was  no  stirrings,  and 
iherefure  undone  for  want  of  doings:  whereupon. 
utter  many  such  inductions  to  bring  the  scene  of 
his  poverty  upon  the  stage,  he  desired,  in  cool 
terms,  to  borrow  some  forty  pence  of  me.  I,  siuft 
with  anger  nt  that  base  and  lazy  petition,  knowing 
thai  a  right  true  villain  and  an  absolute  practised 
pander  could  Dot  want  silver  damnation,  but,  living 
upon  the  revenues  of  his  wits,  might  purchase  the 
devil  and  all,  half-conquered  with  rage,  thus  I  re- 
plied lo  his  baseness  :  Why,  for  shame  !  a  bawd 
and  poor  ?  why,  then,  let  usurers  go  a-begging,  or, 
like  an  old  Greek,  stand  in  Paul's  with  a  porringer; 
let  brokers  become  whole  honest  then,  and  remove 
to  heaven  out  of  Houndsditch  ;  lawyers  turn  feeless, 
and  take  ten  of  a  poor  widow's  tears  for  ten  shil- 
lings ;  merchants  never  forswear  themselves,  whose 
great  perjured  oaths  a'  land  turn  to  great  winds 


TBE  BLACK  BOOK.  519 

and  CBBt  away  their  ships  at  sea,  which  false  per- 
fidious tempest  splits  their  ships  abroad  and  their 
souls  at  home,  making  the  one  take  salt  water  and 
the  other  salt  fire  ;  let  mercers  then  have  conicion- 
sble  thumbs  when  they  measure  out  that  smooth 
glittering  devil,  satin,  and  that  old  reveller,  velvet, 
in  the  days  orMonsieur,^  both  which  have  devoured 
many  an  honest  field  of  wheat  and  barley,  that 
hath  been  metamorphosed  anil  changed  into  white 
money.  Pooh,  these  are  but  little  wonders,  and 
may  be  easily  possible  in  the  working.  A  usurer  to 
cry  bread  and  meat  is  not  a  thing  impossible ;  tor 
indeed  your  greatest  usurer  is  your  greatest  beggar, 
wanting  as  well  that  which  he  hath  as  that  which 
he  hath  not ;  then  who  can  be  a  greater  beggar  f 
He  will  not  have  his  house  smell  like  a  cook's 
shop,  and  therefore  takes  an  order  no  meat  shall 
be  dressed  In  it ;  and  because  there  was  an  bouse 
upon  Fish- street- hi II  burnt  to  the  ground  once,  he 
can  abide  by  no  means  id  have  a  fire  in  his  chimney 
ever  since.  To  the  confirming  of  which  I  will  insert 
here  a  pretty  conceit''  of  a  nimble-witted  gentle- 
woman, that  was  worthy  to  be  ladilied  for  the  jest; 
ivho,  entering  into  a  usurer's  house  in  London  to 
take  up  money  upon  unmerciful  interest  for  the 
apace  of  a  twelvemonth,  was  conducted  through 
two  or  three  hungry  rooms  into  a  fair  dining-room 
by  a  lenten-faced  fellow,  the  usurer's  man,  whose 
nose  shewed  as  if  it  had  been  made  of  hollow  paste- 
board, and  his  cheeks  tike  two  thin  pancakes  clapt 
together;  a  pitiful  knave  he  was,  and  looked  for 
all  the  world  as  if  meal  had  been  at  twenty  shillings 
a  bushel.  The  gentlewoman  being  placed  in  this 
fair  room  to  await  the  usurer's  leisure,  who  was 
casting  up  ditches  of  gold  in  his  counting-house, 

<  dagi  tifMaimur)  See  note,  vol.  iL  p.  3BB. 
»  cunnW]  See  note,  p.  42. 


5Sa  tHS  BLACK  BOOK. 

tod  bein^  almost  frozen  will)  *i&oding  —  for  it  ms 
before  Canillemas'  TrtMt  -  bitten  term  —  ever  and 
«DOD  luming  about  to  the  chimney,  where  she  saw 
a  pair  of  corpulent,  gigantical  andirons,  that  stood 
like  two  buTgoniBsters,  at  boih  routers,  a  beanb 
briskly  dressed  op,  and  a  great  cluster  of  charcoal 
piled  up  together  like  black  puddings,  which  lay 
for  a  dead  lire,  and  in  the   dining-room    loo:    the 

Sen  tie  worn  an,  wondering  it  nas  so  long  a-kindling,  at 
Ut  she  caught  the  miserable  conceit  of  it,  and 
caUing  her  man  to  her,  bade  him  seek  out  for  3 
piece  of  chalk,  or  some  peeling  of  a  while  wall, 
whilst  in  the  meantime  she  conceited  the  device; 
when,  taking  up  the  six  former^  coals,  one  afler 
another,  she  chalked  upon  each  of  them  a  aaiirical 
letter ;  which  six  were  these, 

T.     D.     C.     R.     U.     S.; 
explained  thus, 

Thtu  dead  coah 
Reremble  ururert'  am/*. 
Then  placing  Oiem  in  the  same  order  again,  turning 
the  chalked  sides  inward  lo  try  conclusions,'  which, 
as  it  happened,  made  up  the  jest  the  better :  by 
that  time  the  usurer  had  done  amongst  his  golden 
heaps,  and  entertaining  the  gentlewoman  with  a 
cough  a  quarter  of  an  hour  long,  at  last,  aflcr  a 
rotten  hawk  and  a  hem,  lie  began  to  spit  and  speak 
to  her.  To  conclude ;  she  was  furnished  of  the 
money  fur  a  twelvemonth,  but  upon  large  security 
and  most  tragical  usury.  When,  keeping  her  day 
the  twelvemonth  after,  coming  to  repay  both  the 

^  /ormtf'i  "  Bui  force  agiinit  (orrt,  (kill  igainit  still,  to 
rniiirctaiiigeBbl;  eocounlercil,  thai  ii  wu  not  easy  lo  deter- 
mine, wheibcr  enlrrpriiing  or  prereniing  came/onifT."  Sir 
P.  Sidney'!  ArtadUi,  lib.  iii.  p.  102.  ed.  1633. 


1 


THE  BLACK  BOOK. 


631 

money  and  llie  breed  of  it — for  interest  may  well 
be  called  the  usurer's  baatard — she  found  the  hearth 
dressed  up  in  the  same  order,  with  a  dead  6re  of  char* 
coal  again,  and  yet  the  Thames  was  half-frozen  at 
that  time  with  the  bitterness  of  the  season:  when 
turning  the  foremost  rank  of  coals,  determining 
again,  as  it  seemed,  to  draw  some  pretty  knavery 
upon  them  too,  she  spied  all  those  six  letters  whicli 
she  chalked  upon  them  the  twelvemonth  before, 
and  never  a  one  stirred  or  displaced;  the  strange 
sight  of  which  made  her  break  into  these  words  : — 
Is  it  possible,  quoth  she,  a  usurer  should  burn  so 
little  here,  and  so  much  in  hell?  or  is  it  the  cold 
property  of  these  coals  to  be  above  a  tnelvcmonth 
B-kindling?  So  much  to  shew  the  frozen  charity 
of  a  usurer's  chimney. 

And  then  a  broker  to  be  an  honeat  soul,  that  is, 
to  take  but  sixpence  a-month,  and  threepence  for 
the  bill-making ;  a  devil  of  a  very  good  conscience! 
Possible  too  to  have  a  lawyer  bribeless  and  without 
fee,  if  his  clientess,  or  female  client,  please  his  eye 
well:  a  merchant  to  wear  a  suit  of  perjury  but 
once  a  quarter  or  so, — mistake  me  not,  1  mean  not 
four  limes  an  hour;  that  shift  were  too  short,  he 
could  not  put  it  on  so  soon,  I  think  :  and,  lastly, 
not  impossible  for  a  mercer  to  have  a  thumb  in 
folio,  like  one  of  the  biggest  of  the  guard,  and  so 
give  good  and  very  bountiful  measure.  But,  which 
is  most  impossible,  to  be  a  right  bawd  and  poor  — 
it  strikes  my  spleen  into  dulness,  and  turns  all  my 
blood  into  cool  lead.  Wherefore  was  vice  ordained 
but  to  be  rich,  shining,  and  wealthy,  seeing  virtue, 
her  opponent,  is  poor,  ragged,  and  needy?  Those 
that  are  poor  are  timorous'honest  and  foolish- 
harmlcss  ;  as  your  carolling  shepherds,  whistling 
ploughmen,  and  such  of  the  same  innocent  rank. 


THE  BLACK  BOOK. 


V  A23 

H  tlial  never  reliah  the  black  juice  of  viUitny,  never 

H  taste  (ho   red    laoA  nf  murder,  or  the   dnninable 

H  stickets  of  luxury  'J  vrhereas  a  pander  is  the  very 

H  oil  of  villains  and  the  syrup  of  rogues  ;  of  excellent 

H  rogues,  I  mean,  such  as  have  purchased  five  huo- 

H  dreds  a-year  by  the  talent  of  their  villany.     Haw 

H  many  such  gallants  do  I  know,  that  live  ooly  upon 

I  the  revenue  of  their  nits !  some  nhose  braini  are 

H  above  an  hundred  mile  about ;  and  those  are  your 

^L  geometrical  thieves,  which  may  fitly  be  called  so, 

^B  because  they  measure  the  highways  with  false  gal- 

^1  lops,  and  therefore  are  heirs  of  more  acres  than 

^B  five-and-fihy  elder  brothers :  sometimes  ihey  are 

^V  clerks  of  Newmarket  Heath,  sometimes  the  sheTJlA 

H  of  Salisbury  Plain;  and  another  time  they  commit 

H  brotlielry,  when  they  make  many  a  man  stand  at 

f  Hockley-in-the-Hote.     These  are  your  great  head 

landlords  indeed,  which  call   the  word  robbhig  the 
I  gathering  in  of  their  rents,  and  name  all  passengers 

their  tenanta-at-will. 

Another  set  of  delicate  knavea  tliere  are,  that 
dive  into  deeds  and  writings  of  lands  left  to  young 
gullBnches,  poisoning  the  true  senae  and  intent  of 
ihem  with  the  merciless  antimony  oftheCommnn 
Law,'  and  so  by  some  crafty  clau[a]c  or  two  shove 
the  true  foolish  owners  quite  beside  the  saddle  of 
their  patrimohiet,  and  then  they  hang  only  by  the 
stirrups,  that  is,  by  the  cold  alms  and  frosen  charity 
of  the  gentlemen-defealers,  who^if  they  take  after 
tne,  their  great  grandfather — will  rather  stamp  them 


THE  BLACK  BOOK.  523 

down  in  the  deep  mire  of  poverty  than  bolster  up 
their  heads  with  a  poor  wisp  of  charity.  Such  as 
these  corrupt  the  true  meanings  of  last  wills  and 
lestanients,  and  turn  legacies  the  wrong  way,  wrest- 
ing them  quite  awry,  like  Grantham  steeple.' 

The  third  rank,  quainter  than  the  former,  pre- 
sents us  with  the  race  of  lusty  vaulting  gallants, 
that,  instead  of  a  French  horse,  practise  upon  their 
mistresses  all  the  nimble  tricks  of  vaulting,  and  are 
worthy  to  be  made  dukes  for  doing  the  somerset 
so  lively.  This  nest  of  gallants,  for  the  natural 
'  parts  that  are  in  them,  are  maintained  by  their 
drawn- work  dames  and  their  embroidered  mis- 
tresses, and  can  dispend  their  two  thousand  a-year 
out  of  other  men's  cofTers  ;  keep  at  every  heel  a  man, 
beside  a  French  lacquey  (a  great  boy  with  a  heard), 
and  an  English  page,  which  6lls  up  the  place  of  an 
ingle;"  ihey  have  their  city-horse,  which  1  may 
well  term  their  stone-horse,  or  their  horse  upon 
the  stones  ;  for  indeed  the  city  being  the  lusty 
dame  and  mistress  of  the  land,  lays  all  her  founda- 
tion upon  good  Btone-work,  and  somebody  pays 
well  for't  where'er  it  lights,  and  might  with  less 
cost  keep  London  Bridge  in  reparations  every  fall 
than  mistress  Bridget  his  wife;  for  women  and 
bridges  always  lack  mending,  and  what  the  ad- 
vantage of  one  tide  performs  comes  another  tide 
presently  and  washes  away.  Those  are  your  gen- 
tlemen gallants  that  secth  uppermost,  and  never 
tin"  gallopping  till  they  run  over  into  the  fire ;  so 
gloriously  accoutred  that  they  ravish  the  eyes  of 

>  Granlhan  ilripU)  "  A  litUc  rait  will  make  a  salt  [lall- 
cellar]  laoke  like  Granlham  Sleeple  with  hii  cap  lo  the  Ale- 
home."      Dekker'i  Ovlei  Mmanaekt,  1618,  p.  3a. 

-'   'ngle]  See  note,  voL  i.  p.  301. 


'  /,«]  i. 


534  THE  BLACK  BOOK. 

all  wanlons,  and  take  itiem  pnioncrs  in  their  shops 
will)  a  brisk  suit  of  apparel ;  they  strangle  aoA 
diuke  more  velvet  in  a  deep- pat  he  red  hose"  than 
would  serve  to  line  through  my  lord  What-call-ye- 
liini's  coach. 

What  need  I  inrcrP  more  of  their  prodigal  glis- 
terlngs  and  their  spangled  damnations,  when  these 
are  arguments  auflicient  to  shew  the  ncallh  of  sin, 
and  how  rich  the  sons  and  heirs  ofTartary*)  are! 
And  arc  these  so  glorious,  so  flourishing,  so  hrim- 
ful  of  golden  Lucifers  or  light  angels,'  and  ilioii 
a  pander  and  poor?  a  bawd  and  empty,  apparelled 
in  villanous  packthread,  in  a  wicked  suit  of  coarse 
hop-bags,  the  wings' and  skirts  faced  with  the  ruins 
of  dishclouts?  Fie,  I  shame  to  see  thee  dressed  up 
so  abominable  scurvy !  Complainest  thou  of  bad 
doings,  when  there  are  harlots  of  all  trades,  and 
knaves  of  all  languages  ?  Knowest  thou  not  that 
sin  may  be  committed  cither  in  French,  Dntch, 
Italian,  or  Spanish,  and  all  after  the  English 
fashion  1  Dut  thou  excusest  the  negligence  of  thy 
practice  by  the  last  summer's  pestilence  :  alas,  poor 
shark-gull,' that  put-oir  is  idle  I  for  sergeant  Car- 
buncle, one  of  the  plague's  chief  officers,  dares  not 
within  three  yards  of  an  harlot,  because 
Drybone,  the  Frenchman,  is  a  leiger" 
before  him.  At  which  speech  the  slave  burst  into 
a  melancholy  laugh,  which  shewed  for  all  the  world 

dF  breeches.  >  il/''']  1.  c.  bring  ia. 

I'artarus,  hell.     Compare  quolstioo  from 


*  hKtr]  i.  e. 
'  rarfaro] 

Nuh,  nole,  p. 

'  angili]  Sm  nole,  p.  20, 

■  tcingi]  "  Lslcral  promincnciei  extending  from  «acb  shoul- 
der." Whaliey'e  notn  on  B,  JDiuon'a  WorkM,  vol.  ii.  p.  103, 
«l.  Oi« 

*  ihitrt-gulf]  i  e.  one  who  preys  on  simpletoas. 

*  Itigtr]  i.e.  reodeal:  see  note,  vol.  il  p.  31S. 


THE  BLACK  BOOK. 


525 

like  a  sad  tragedy  with  a  clown  in't ;  and  thus 
began  to  reply: — I  know  not  whether  it  be  [a] 
cross  or  a  curse,  noble  Philip  of  Phlegethon,  or 
whether  both,  that  I  am  forced  to  pink  four  ells 
of  bag  to  make  me  a  sutnmer-auit ;  but  I  protest, 
what  with  this  long  vacation,  and  the  fiilging  of 
gallants  to  Norfolk  lind  up  and  down  countries. 
Pierce  was  never  so  pennylcss  as  poor  lieutenant 
Prig  beard. 

With  those  words  he  put  me  in  mind  of  him  for 
whom  I  chiefly  changed  myself  into  on  ofKcious 
constable,  poor  Pierce  Pennyless:  when  presently 
I  demanded  of  this  lieutenant  the  place  of  his 
abode,  and  when  he  last  heard  of  him  {though  I 
knew  well  enough  both  where  to  hear  ofhim  and 
find  him) ;  to  which  he  made  answer  :  Who,  Pierce  ? 
honest  Pennyless?  he  that  writ  the  madcap's  Sup- 
plication  ?  why,  my  very  next  neighbour,  lying 
within  three  lean  houses  of  me,  at  old  mistress 
Silverpin's,  the  only  door-keeper"  in  Europe :  why, 
we  meet  one  another  every  term-time,  and  shake 
hands  when  the  Exchequer  opens  ;  but  when  we 
open  our  bands,  the  devil  of  penny  we  can  see. 

With  that  I  cheered  up  the  drooping  slave  with 
the  aqua-vitse'  of  villany,  and  put  him  in  excel- 
lent comfort  of  my  damnable  legacy;  saying  I 
would  stuff  him  with  so  many  wealthy  instructions 
that  he  should  excel  even  Fandarua  himself,  and 
go  nine  mile  beyond  him  in  pandarism,  and  from 
thenceforward  he  should  never  know  a  true  rascal 
go  under  his  red  velvet  slops,"  and  a  gallant  bawd 
indeed  below  her  looae-bodied'  satin. 

■  ioar-kitptr]  i.  e.  b«wd. 

'  aqaa-vilit)  See  note,  vol.  iii.  p.  239. 

'  ilapi]  i.  e.  bieechcj. 

*  htsi-bodied]  See  Dote,  vol.  i.  p,  431. 


526  THE  BLACK  BOOK. 

This  said,  the  slave  hugged  himself,  and  bussed 
the  bawd  for  joy  :  when  presently  I  left  them  in  the 
midst  of  tlieir  wicked  smack,  and  descended  to  my 
bill-men'  that  waited  in  the  pernicious  alley  for 
me,  their  master  constable.  And  marching  forward 
to  tlie  third  garden-house,  there  we  knocked  up 
the  ghost  of  mistress  Silverpin,  who  suddenly  rime* 
out  of  two  white  sheets,  and  acted  out  of  her  tiring- 
house''  window  :  but  having  understood  who  we 
were,  and  the  authority  of  our  office,  she  presently, 
even  in  her  ghost's  apparel,  unfolded  the  doors 
and  gave  me  my  free  entrance ;  when  in  policy  I 
charged  the  rest  to  stay  and  watch  the  house  below, 
whilst  I  stumbled  up  two  pair  of  stairs  in  the  dark, 
but  at  last  caught  in  mine  eyes  the  sullen  blaze  of 
a  melancholy  lamp  that  burnt  very  tragically  upoa 
the  narrow  desk  of  a  half  bedstead,  which  descried' 
all  the  pitiful  ruins  throughout  the  whole  chamber. 
The  bare  privities  of  the  stone-walls  were  hid  with 
two  pieces  of  painted  cloth,''  but  so  ragged  and 
tottered,'  that  one  might  have  seen  all  nevertheless, 
hanging  for  all  the  world  like  the  two  men  in  chains 
between  Mile-end  and  Hackney.  The  testem,  or 
the  shadow  over  the  bed,  was  made  of  four  ells  of 
cobwebs,  and  a  number  of  small  spinner's -ropes 
hung  down  for  curtains:  the  spindle-shank  spiders, 
which  shew  like  great  lechers  with  little  legs,  went 
■talking  over  his  head  as  if  they  had  been  conning 
of  Tatnbarlaine.'     To  conclude,  there  was  manjr 

■  bill-men^  See  note,  p.  £13.  •  rliii]  i.  t 

*  liring-kcmie']  i.  e.  dreuing-rooni, — in  theilrical  li 

*  dtictud  ]  i.  e.  diKovered. 
'  painlrd  ehth}  See  nore,  vol.  iii.  p.  97. 

*  loUertd']  i.  e.  Uttered. 
'  ai  if  thttj  had  bemconaing  of  Tamburtame^  From  thi 

mge  Malone  coujeclured  Ibat  [he  plaj  of  Tambarlaimt, 
nQy  ucribed  lo  Marlowe,  *u  writlea  either  •hoUj' 


THE  BLACK  BOOK.  527 

audi  sights  to  be  aeen,  and  all  under  a  penny, 
beside  tbe  lamentable  prospect  of  his  hose'  and 
doublet,  which,  being  of  old  Kendal  -  green,  fitly 
resembled  a  pitched  field,  upon  which  trampled 
many  a  lusty  corporal.  In  this  unfortunate  tiring- 
house  lay  poor  Pierce  upon  a  pillow  stuffed  with 
horse-meat;  the  sheets  smudged  so  dirtily,  as  if 
they  had  been  stolen  by  nigbt  out  of  Saint  Pul- 
cher's''  churchyard  when  the  sexton  had  \e[t  a 
grave  open,  and  so  laid  the  dead  bodies  wool-ward  :' 
the  coverlet  was  made  of  pieces  a.'  blaclc  cloth 
clapt  together,  such  as  was  snatched  off  the  rails 
in  KingVstreet  at  the  queen's  funeral.  Upon  this 
miserable  bcd's-head  lay  the  old  copy  of  his  Sup- 
plication,  in  foul-writien  hand,  which  my  black 
Knight  of  the  Post  conveyed  to  hel! ;  which  no 
sooner  I  entertained  in  my  hand,  but  with  the  rat- 
tling and  blabbing  of  the  papers  poor  Pierce  began 
lo  stretch  and  grale  his  nose  against  the  hard  pil- 
low ;  when  after  a  rouse  or  two,  he  muttered  these 
reeling  words  between  drunk  and  sober,  that  is, 
between  sleeping  and  waking:  —  I  should  laugh, 
i'faith,  if  for  all  this  I  should  prove  a  usurer  before 
I  die,  and  have  never  a  penny  now  to  set  up  withal. 
1  would  build  a  nunnery  in  Pict-haich'  here,  and 

part  by  Hath.—Shaktipran  {by  Bosoell),  vol.  iii.  p.  35T  i  but 
Mr.  J.  P.  Collier  bas  moaL  saliifactarily  abewn  Ihac  it  waa  tbe 
work  or  the  former  ;  aee  Hiit.  iff  Engl  Draw.  Poilry,  loL  iJL 
p.  113,  iqq — The  preienc  tract,  and  [he  one  whicli  fullowB  it 
{Falher  Hxlihiii-iTi  Tain),  botli  pubUihed  in  IGOt,  prove  ibil 

* '       year:  he  ji  here  dcacribed  (1  Tear  too 

tale  of  Bqualid  poverty!  in  tbe  next 
I  deceaBcd.  ■  hoK}  i.  e.  breeohes. 

Comiplion  of^njnr  SfpulchrB't. 

1, — nilhout  linen  (a  nord  ^oeralJy 
II  to  clothed  for  penance  or  humi- 
.1  eoimnenlatara  on  Shakeapeare'a 
kM.  2,  and  Nirea'a  Gtoii.  in  v.} 


turn  the  walk  in  Paul's 
would  have  the  Thar 


>  into  a  bowling  alley :  I 
I  leaded  over,  that  they 
might  play  at  cony-hnles  wiih  the  arches  under 
London  Bridge.  Well  (and  wiib  that  he  waked), 
the  devil  is  mad  knave  still. 

How  now.  Pierce?  quoih  I,  dost  thou  call  me 
knave  to  my  face  ?  Whereat  ihe  poor  slave  starred 
up  with  his  hair  n-tiptoe  ;  to  whom  by  easy  degrees 
I  gently  discovered  myself;  wlio,  trembling  like  the 
treble  of  aluie  under  the  heavy  linger  of  a  farmer's 
daughter,  craved  pardon  of  my  damnable  excel- 
lence, and  gave  me  my  titles  as  freely  as  if  he  had 
known  where  all  my  lordships  lay,  and  how  many 
acres  there  were  in  Tartary."  But  at  the  length, 
having  recovered  to  be  bold  again,  he  unfolded  all 
his  bosom  to  me;  told  me  that  the  Knight  of  Per- 
jury had  lately  brought  him  a  singed  letter  sent 
from  a  damned  friend  of  his,  which  was  thus 
directed  as  followeih, 

from  Slyx  to  n'owFi-clotc, 

The  n-atk  of  Plcl-holch. 
After  I  saw  poor  Pennyless  grow  so  well  acquainted 
with  me,  and  so  familiar  with  the  viljany  of  my  hu- 
mour, 1  unlocked  my  determinations,  and  laid  open 
my  intents;  irt  particular'  the  eaiiae  of  my  uprising, 
being  moved  both  with  his  penetrable  petition  and 
his  insufferable  poverty,  and  therefore  changed  my 
ahape  into  a  little  wapper-eyed  ■"  constable,  to  wink 

'  Ihe  u,M  »  Paul;]  See  noie.  vol.  i.  p.  418 
■   Tarlary}  See  note,  p.  5H. 

parlieular]  Old  rd.  "  partirulari." 
-  •Mpprr-^jrtd]  ■■  Wapptr-tyed.  Bore-eyeil."  Grose'.  C/o». 
BicL  off„/g.  rov«-~"  tyapp,r.,y,d.  goggie-eyed.  having 


and  blink  at  small  faults,  and  ilirough  the  policy 
of  searching,  lo  lind  him  out  ttie  better  in  his  cleanly 
tabernacle  ;  and  therefore  gave  him  encouragement 
now  to  be  frolic,  for  the  time  was  at  hand,  like  a 
pickpurse,  that  Pierce  should  be  called  no  more 
Pennyless,  like  the  Mayor's  bench  at  Oxford,"  but 
rather  Fierce  Fennyfist,  because  his  palm  shall  be 
pawed  with  pence.  This  said,  I  bade  him  be 
resolved  and  get  up  to  breakfast,  whilst  I  went  to 
gather  my  noise"  of  villains  together,  and  made  his 
lodging  my  convocation -house.  With  that,  in  a 
resulting  humour,  he  called  his  hose^  and  doublet 
to  bim  (which  could  almost  go  alone,  borne  like  a 
hearse  upon  the  legs  of  vermin),  whilst  I  thumped 
down  stairs  with  my  cow-heel,  embraced  mistress 
Silverpin,  and  betook  me  to  my  bill-men  ;i  wben, 
in  a  twinkling,  before  them  all,  I  leapt  out  of  master 
constable's  night-gown  into  an  usurer's  fusty  furred 
jacket;  whereat  the  watchmen  staggered,  and  all 
their  bills  fell  down  in  a  swoon;  when  I  walked 
close  by  them,  laughing  and  coughing  like  a  rotten- 
lunged  usurer,  to  sec  what  Italian  faces  they  all 
made  when  they  missed  their  constable,  and  saw 
the  black  gown  of  his  office  lie  full  in  a  puddle. 

Well,  away  I  scudded  in  the  musty  moth-eaten 
habit;  and  being  upon  Exchange- time,  I  crowded 

full  rolling  tyet:  or  laoking  like  one  Beared;  or  squinting 
like  a  peraOD  overtaken  wiili  Hijuoc."  Vocab.  lo  jia  Emtaor 
Scalding,  ed.  1S3<>, 

'  Ihe  Maynr't  bench  at  Oifard']  There  was  ■  public  aeit  al 
Oi/otd  "  adjoining  to  the  east  end  of  Carfax  Church  "  (Wm- 
ton'i  Conpniion  to  Iht  Guidt,  p.  IS,  aec.  ed.),  which  bore  the 
name  of  Pennyleu-  Bench. 

°  noiit]  i  e.  band,  company — properly,  of  muaiciana-,  see 


530  THE  BI.ACE   BOOK. 

myself  amongst  merchants,  poisoned  all  the  Burse' 
in  a  minute,  and  turned  their  faiths  and  troths  into 
curds  and  whey,  making  them  snear  that  things 
nnw  which  they  forswore  when  the  quarters  struck 
again ;  for  1  was  present  at  the  clapping  up  of 
every  bargain,  which  did  ne'er  hold,  no  longer  than 
they  held  hands  together.  There  I  heard  news  out 
of  all  countries,  in  all  languages ;  how  many  viU 
lains'  were  in  Spain,  how  many  luxurs'  in  Italy, 
how  many  perjurds  in  France,  and  how  many  reel- 
pots  in  Germany.  At  last  I  met,  at  half-turn,  one 
whom  I  had  spent  mine  eyes  so  long  for,  an  hoary 
money- master,  that  had  been  off  and  on  some  six- 
and-fifty  years  damned  in  his  coun ling-house,  for 
his  only  recreation  was  but  to  hop  about  the  Burse 
before  twelve,  to  hear  what  news  frnm  the  Bank, 
and  how  many  merchants  were  banqroui"  the  last 
change  of  the  moon.  This  rammish  penny- father* 
I  rounded"  in  llie  led  car,  winded  in  my  intent,  the 
place  and  hour;  which  no  sooner  he  sucked  in,  but 
smiled  upon  me  in  French,  and  replied, — 
O  mounaicur  Diabla, 
I'll  be  chief  guest  at  your  tabia! 
With  that  we  shook  hands,  and,  as  we  parted,  I 

■  ihe  flurie]  Meam  here  ihe  Bojal  Enchange :  »ee  noie, 
p.  486. 

•  villahi'i  Old  ei.  "  VilUinies." 
'  Inxuri]  i.  0.  leihera, 

■  banqrovt]  i.  e.  bnnkrupl. 

•  peniij -/a/Aer]    "  /{  ptnaie -falhir,  Vo    hommG  riclie    el 
chicbc"    Cotgrne'i  Did. 

"  Ranck  ptay-faDuri  scud  (nith  their  halfe  haiainet 
Shadoving  their  caluet)  to  eaue  their  lUuer  dammeB, 
Al  euery  gun  thev  tiarl,  tAti  Trom  the  ground, 
Onedrum  can  make  a  Ihouiand  I'mnrstawoA  [i.e.  iiroon]." 

Debker-i  Wander/alt  Yean,  1603,  alg.  B  3. 
"■  raundtii]  i.  e.  whiipered. 


THE  BLACK  flOOK.  531 

bade  him  bring  master  Cog-bill  the  scrivener  along 
nith  him;  and  so  1  vanished  ant  of  that  dressing. 

And  passing  through  Birchin-tane,  amidst  a  camp* 
royal  of  hose  and  doublets  (master  Snip's  backside 
being  turned  where  his  face  stood),  I  took  excellent 
occasion  to  slip  into  a  captain's  suit,  a  valiant  buff 
doublet,  stuffed  with  points''  like  a  leg  of  it 
with  parsley,  and  a  pair  of  velvet  slops* 


thick  with  lace,  which 


liker 


igwo 


i  I 


And  thuf 


ordine  . 
damned  < 


scored 
nd  about  the  hose 
man  scratch  where 
tred,  taking  up  my 
trust  in  tne  same  order  at  the  next 
inie  10,  I  marched  to  master  Bezle's 
here  I  found  a  whole  dozen  of  my 
w,  sweating  as  much  at  dice  as  many 
poor  lauourers  do  with  the  casting  of  ditches ;  when 
presently  I  set  in  a  stake  amongst  them:  round  it 
went;  but  the  crafty  dice  having  peeped  upon  me 
once,  knew  who  I  was  well  enough,  and  would 
never  have  their  little  black  eyes  otTa'  me  all  the 
while  afler.  At  last  came  my  turn  about,  the  dice 
quaking  in  my  fist  before  I  threw  them  ;  but  when 
I  yerked  them  forth,  away  they  ran  like  Irish 
lacqueys'  as  far  as  their  bones  would  suffer  them, 
I  sweeping  up  all  the  stakes  that  lay  upon  the 
table ;  whereat  some  stamped,  others  swore,  the 
rest  cursed,  and  all  in  general  fretted  to  the  gall 
that  a  new-comer,  as  they  termed  me,  should  gather 
in  so  many  fifteens  at  the  first  vomit.  Well,  thus 
it  passed  on,  the  dice  running  as  false  as  the  drabs 
in  Whiicfriars ;  and  when  any  one  thought  him- 
self surest,  in  came  I  with  a  lurching  cast,  and 
made  them  all  swear  round  again ;  but  such 
gunpowder  oaths  they  were,  that  1  wonder  how 
'  poiniM]  i.  e.  tagged  Isoei.  *  j(opi]  I.  e.  breecliei. 

I  IrUh  tacqwst]  Se«  note,  vol.  iii.  p.  131. 


S32 


TOE  BLACK  BOOK. 


the  ceiling  held  together  vitbout  spittiag  mortar 
upon  them.  Zounds,  captain,  swore  ooe  to  me, 
I  think  the  devil  be  thy  good  lord  and  roaster. 
True,  thought  I,  and  thou  his  geDileman- usher. 
In  conclusion,  it  fatted  me  better  than  twenty 
eightecnpence  ordinaries,''  to  hear  them  rage,  curse, 
and  swear,  like  so  many  eraperora  of  darkness. 
And  all  these  twelve  were  of  twelve  several  com- 
panies. There  was  your  gallant  extraordinary  thief 
that  keeps  his  college  of  good -fellows,'  and  will  not 
fear  to  rob  a  lord  in  his  coach  for  all  his  ten 
trencher -bearers  on  horseback;  your  deep-con- 
ceited culpurse,  who  by  the  dexterity  of  his  knife 
will  draw  out  the  money,  and  make  a  flame-coloured 
purse  shew  like  the  bottomless  pit,  but  with  never 
a  soul  in't;  your  cheating  bowler,  that  will  bask 
false  of  purpose,  and  lose  a  game  of  twelvepence  to 
purchase  his  partner  twelve  shillings  in  bets,  and 
so  share  it  atler  the  play;  your  cheveril -gutted 
catchpoll,  who  like  a  horse-leech  sucks  gentlemen: 
and,  in  all,  your  twelve  tribes  of  villany;  who  no 
sooner  understood  the  quaint  form  of  such  an  un- 
customed  legacy,  but  they  all  pawned  their  vicious 
golls*  to  meet  there  at  the  hour  prefixed;  and  to 
confirm  their  resolution  the  more,  each  slipped  down 
his  stocking,  baring  hia  right  knee,  and  so  began 
to  drink  a  health  half  as  deep  as  mother  Hubburd's 
cellar, —  she  that  was  called  in 'Tor  selling  her  work- 
ing bottle-ale  to  bookbinders,  and  spurting  the 
froth  upon  courtiers'  noses.  To  conclude,  1  was 
their  only  captain  (for  so  tbey  pleased  to  title  me); 

'  riglileenptiiet  orrfinorwi]  See  note,  vol.  i.  p.  389. 

■  goad-Jellnicil  A  ctnl  term  for  thieves. 

■  galU^  A  cant  term  for  banda, — tiala,  paws. 

■■  iht  Ihal  umi  called  in]  Set  nat«  on  tbe  address  "  To  the 
Readdr"  prefixed  to  the  Mioviiag  pieta. 


THE  BLACK  BOOK.  533 

and  so  they  all  risse,''  poculh  inanibiuqtte  applauding 
my  news ;  then  the  hour  being  more  than  once  and 
once  reiterated,  we  were  all  at  our  hands  again, 
and  so  departed.*^ 

I  could  tell  now  that  I  was  in  many  a  second 
house  in  the  city  and  suburbs  afterward,  where  my 
entertainment  was  not  barren,  nor  my  welcome 
cheap  or  ordinary;  and  then  how  1  walked  in 
Paul's'*  to  see  fashions,  to  dive  into  villanous  meet- 
ings, pernicious  plots,  black  humours,  and  a  million 
of  mischiefs,  which  are  bred  in  that  cathedral  womb 
and  born  within  less  thnn  forty  weeks  after.  But 
some  may  object  and  say,  What,  doth  the  devil 
walk  in  Paul's  then  ?  Why  not,  sir,  as  well  as  a 
sergeant,  or  a  ruffian,  or  a  murderer  7  May  not  the 
devil,  I  pray  you,  walk  in  Paul's,  as  well  as  the 
horse'  go  a'  top  of  Paul's?  for  1  am  sure  1  was  not 
far  from  his  keeper.  Pooh,  1  doubt,  where  there  is 
no  doubt ;  for  there  is  no  true  critic  indeed  that 
will  carp  at  the  devil. 

Now  the  hour  posted  onward  to  accomplish  the 
effects  of  my  desire,  to  gorge  every  vice  full  of 
poison,  that  the  soul  might  burst  at  the  last,  and 
vomit  out  herself  upon  blue  cakes  of  brimstone. 
When  returning  home  for  the  purpose,  in  my  cap- 

<•  riiu]  i.e.  rose.  '  dfparlid]  i.e.  parted. 

'  valted  in  Pai.ri]  See  Dole,  Tol.  i.  p.  418. 

■  llu  heric,  &c.]  To  the  wouderrul  fioru,  called  Morocco. 
are  msnf  ■lliuioni  in  uur  old  tnileri;  nor  ii  ihii  the  onljr 
menlioD  of  his  having  gone  up  (o  the  top  of  St.  Paul's  church, 
— a  feat  xhich,  according  to  Dekker,  took  place  in  1600: 
"  Since  (he  dancing  horse  stood  on  the  lop  oF  Powles,  whilit 
a  number  of  Aues  Blood  braying  belowi — IT  [years]."  A  m- 
morial  ^e.  •atlilt  Ihii  yearr,  \6\1—Tht  OkIhi  Alma«Klie,  161t), 
p.  7. — Boih  the  hone  and  hii  mastn,  whose  nsme  oaa  Banks, 
are  aaid  lo  have  been  biirnad  at  Home  ss  magicians.  See 
more  dd  this  aulyeel  in  the  notes  of  the  commentalora  on 
Shakespeare'!  Loa'i  Labtmr'i  Loll,  act  i.  ic.  3,  and  io  Douce'* 
lUutl.  if  ShakHp<ari,  vol.  i.  p.  212. 


534 


Iain's  apparel  of  buff*  and  velvet,  I  struck  mine 
hostess  into  admiration  at  my  proper*  appearance, 
for  my  polt-foot'  was  helped  out  with  bumbast ; 
properly  which  many  worldlings  use  whose  toes 
are  dead  and  rotten,  and  therefore  so  stuff  out 
their  shoes  like  the  comers  of  wool  packs. 

Well,  into  my  tiring-house*  I  went,  where  I  bad 
scarce  shiAed  myself  into  the  apparel  of  my  last 
will  and  tesiatneni,  which  was  the  habit  of  a  covet- 
ous barn-cracking  farmer,  but  all  my  striplings  of 
perdition,  my  nephews  of  damnation,  my  kindred 
snd  alliance  of  viltany  and  sharking,  were  ready 
before  the  hour  to  receive  my  bottomless  blessiDg, 
When  entering  into  a  country  night-gown,  with  a 
cap  of  sickness  about  my  brows,  I  was  led  in  between 
Pierce  Pennyless  and  his  hostess,  like  a  feeble  farmer 
ready  to  depart  England  and  sail  to  the  kingdom  of 
Tartary ;''  who  setting  me  down  in  a  wicked  chair, 
all  my  pernicious  kinsfolks  round  about  me,  and 
the  scrivener  between  my  legs  (for  he  loves  always 
to  sic  in  the  devil's  cot-house],  thus  with  a  whey- 
count  en  ancc,  short  stops,  and  earthen  dampish 
voice,  the  true  counterfeits  of  a  dying  cullion,'  I 
proceeded  to  the  black  order  of  my  legacies. 


Thi-  /as 


fill  , 


id  testament  of  Lawrence  Luc'ifcr,  the 
■callhy  iHichelor  of  LimboJ 


Dick  Devil-barn,  the  griping  farmer  of  Kent. 
In  the  name  of  Beile-bub,  Amen. 
I,  Lawrence  Lucifer,  alias  Dick  Devil-barn,  sick 

'  praptr}  i.  e.  handioins.  '  piill-/tBl'\  i.  e.  club-foot, 

s  lirwg-hmte'j  See  note,  p.  526, 
'  "    lary]  Sen  note,  p.  S24. 


'  nrfjonj  i.  e.  acaundrel,  abjec 
'  Liabo'  See  nole,  p.  SM. 


THE  BLACK  BOOK. 


535 


n  aoul,  but  not  in  body,  being  in  perfect  health  to 
Ticked  memory,  do  constitute  and  ordain  this  ray 
ast  will  and  testament  irrevDcable,  aa  long  as  the 
world  shall  be  trampled  on  by  villany. 

ce  Lucifer,  bequeath  my  soul 

□  the  earth :  amongst  you  all 

e  equally,  hut  with  as  much 

X  pray ;  and  it  will  be  the 


o  h'^fl' 


and  my  body  t( 
me,  and  shar 


L  Png- 
r  of  all 


belter  If  you  go  lo  law  for  n 

As  touching  my 
and  bequeath  then- 
lowing  : 

First,  I  constitute  and  ordain  Lieulei 
beard,  arcbpander  of  England,  my  sole  heir  o 
such  lands,  closes,  and  gaps  as  lie  within  the  bounds 
of  my  gift ;  beside,  I  have  certain  housea,  tene- 
ments,  and  withdrawing- rooms  in  Shoreditch,  Tun- 
bold-atreet,"  Whitefriars,  and  Westminster,  which 
I  freely  give  and  bequeath  to  the  aforesaid  lieutenant 
and  the  bnae  heirs  truly  begot  of  his  villanousbody ; 
with  this  proviso,  that  he  sell  none  of  the  land 
when  he  lacks  money,  nor  make  away  any  of  the 
houses,  lo  impair  and  weaken  the  stock,  no,  not 
so  much  as  to  alter  the  property  of  any  of  them, 
which  is,  to  make  them  honest  against  their  wills, 
but  to  train  and  muster  his  wits  upon  the  Mile-end 
of  his  mazzard,'  rather  to  fortify  the  tcrritoriea  of 
Tu n bold  -  street  and  enrich  the  county  of  Pict- 
hatch"'  with  all  hia  vicious  endeavours,  golden  en- 
ticements, and  damnable  practices.  And,  lieutenant, 
thou  must  dire,  as  thou  useat  to  do,  into  landed 
novices,  who  have  only  wit  to  be  lickerish  and  no 


'   Tuibold-ilrtcl}  Or  Tvrahatl-ih 

'  matiard']  1.  e.  head. 

"  Pht-kalch]  Set  note,  p.  612. 


t,  p.  sn. 


S36  THE  BLACK  BOOK. 

more,  that  so  their  tenants,  trotting  up  to  London 
with  their  quartridges,  they  may  pay  them  the  rent, 
but  thou  and  ihy  college  shall  receive  the  money. 

Let  no  young  wriggle-eyed  damosel,  if  her  years 
have  struck  tvrelve  once,  be  left  unassaulted,  but 
it  must  be  thy  oHice  to  lay  hard  siege  [o  her  honesty, 
and  to  try  )f  the  walls  of  her  maidenhead  may  be 
scaled  with  a  ladder  of  angels  ;°  fnr  one  acre  of 
such  wenches  will  bring  in  more  st  year's  end  than 
a  hundred  acres  of  the  best  harrowed  land  between 
Deptford  and  Dover.  And  take  this  for  a  note  by 
the  way.^you  must  never  walk  without  your  deuce 
or  deuce-ace  of  drabs  af\er  your  boot-heels  ;  for 
when  you  are  abroad,  you  know  not  what  use  yon 
may  have  for  them.  And,  lastly,  if  you  be  well- 
feed  by  some  riotous  gallant,  you  must  practise,  as 
indeed  you  do,  to  wind  out  a  wanton  velvet-cap 
and  bodkin  from  the  tangles  of  her  shop,  teaching 
her — you  know  how — to  cast  a  cuckold's  mist  be- 
fore llie  eyes  of  her  husband,  which  is,  telling  him 
she  must  see  her  cousin  new-come  to  town,  or  that 
she  goes  to  a  woman's  labour,"  when  tbou  knowcst 
well  enough  she  goes  to  none  but  her  own.  And 
being  set  out  of  the  shop,  with  her  man  afore  her, 
to  quench  die  jealousy  of  tier  husband,  she,  by  thy 
instructions,  shall  turn  the  honest,  simple  fellow  off 
at  the  next  turning,  and  give  him  leave  to  see  The 
Merry  Dead  of  Edmonton,^  or  A  Woman  killed  with 

'  mgeW]  See  note,  p.  20. 

°  or  that  ihe  gaei  lo  a  wonaa'i  (oioiir]  Compare  (see  note, 
p,  514)  our  auihor'i  Trick  la  caleh  Ihe  OU  One, 
"  Feigning  excuse  to  women's  labouni, 
When  we  are  leuC  for  to  th'  next  neighbour's." 

Vol.  ii,  p.  97. 
t   Tht  Mtmj  Devil  bJ  td»mtm\  Thii  comedy,  which  wai, 
and  deserved  la  lie,  exlremely  popular,  may  be  Jbuod  in 
Dodiley'i  QH  Plasi,  Tol.  v.  lut  ed.     Mr.  J.  P.  Colher  (Hiil. 


THE  BLACK   BOOK.  S3? 

Kindnets,'^  when  his  mistress  is  going  herself  to  the 
same  murder.  Thousand  of  such  inventions,  prac- 
ticea,  and  devices,  1  stufi*  thy  trade  withal,  beside 
the  luxurious''  meetings  at  taverns,  ten-pound  sup- 
pers, and  tifteen-pound  reckonings,  made  up  after- 
wards with  riotous  eggs  and  muscadine.  All  these 
female  vomits  and  adulterous  surfeits  1  give  and 
bequeath  to  thee,  which  I  hope  thou  wilt  put  in 
practice  with  all  expedition  after  my  decease;  and 

^Engl.  Dram.  Pott.)  nicribei  it  uiiheiitatingly  lo  Dreyton, 
probably  on  lome  authorit)'  (beaidu  tluc  of  (>li]yij  nhicb  I 
do  not  recoil  ecu 

Tbe  following  puugfl  o(  The  Mirry  Devil  qf  Edmonton  hu 
puzzled  the  edilora  (who,  by  the  by,  choose  (a  print  it  ai 
vene) :  "  How  now,  my  old  Jenertt  bmk,  mg  hortt,  my  caitle  i 
lie  ID  Waltham  all  night,  and  not  under  the  canopy  of  your 
hoit  Blague-B  home  T  "  Steeveni  (Dodaley's  Old  Playt,  vol.  v. 
p.  2e7.  lait  ed.)  Bsya,  "  I  once  luipecled  Ihii  paaaage  of  cor- 
ruption, but  have  (bund  reaaon  to  change  my  opinion.  The 
Bierry  Host  leems  nitling  to  auemble  ideas  expresaiie  of  Iratt 
and  confidence.  The  old  ijuarloa  begin  the  word^tnrrt  with  a 
capital  letter  I  and,  therefore,  Ke  may  auppoae  'Jenerl'i  bank' 
to  have  been  the  shop  of  some  banker,  in  wboie  poisesilon 
money  could  be  deposited  with  security.  Tbe  Irish  atill  *ay 
— B»  sure  aa  Sarfon'.  Bank;  aud  our  countrymen  — aa  »afe  B« 
the  Bank  qf  England.  We  might  read  'myhoaie'  inllead  of 
'  my  horn,'  u  the  former  agrees  better  mlh  '  caalle.'  The 
aervices  of  a  Astr  are  of  all  things  the  moat  uncertain." 
Narea  (Gloii.  in  v.  Jenerl'i  Ba«k)  observea,  "It  baa  been 
conjeetured  that  there  was  a  bank  called  Jenerl'i,  ao  famoua 
aa  to  be  prevcrbial  for  lecurity  ;  but  it  remaina  lo  be  shewn 
that  any  country-bank  eiialed  in  (he  aevenleenlh  century, 
much  more  that  they  nere  lo  common  aa  for  one  to  be  famoua 
above  the  rest.  .  .  .  Can  it  bo  a  roiipriot  for  '  Ertnen'i  bank,' 
or  the  old  Roman  road  paaaing  through  Edmonton,  which 
might  have  been  written  '  Irminl'a!'" — I  believe  we  ought 
to  read;  "How  now,  my  oldj'ennrfi  [i.e.  cavaliera,  for  ao  the 
word  iiaomelimes  uiedj,  bauk  [i.e.  balk]  my Aouii,  my  caatle I 
lie  in  Wallbam,"  &c. 

«  A  Jfonon  kilhd  wllh  Kmdntu'}  The  maalerpieee  of  Hey- 
wood  t  reprinted  in  Dodaley'a  Old  Playi,  vol.  vii.  last  ed. 

*  Jamriou]  i.  e.  luttful. 


638 

to  ibat  end  I  ordain  thee  wholly  and  solely  my  only 
absolute,  excellent,  villanoua  heir. 

Hem,  I  give  anil  bequeath  to  you,  Gregory  Gaunt- 
let, high  thief  on  horseback,  all  such  sums  of  money 
that  are  nothing  due  lo  you,  and  to  receive  them 
in,  whether  the  parties  he  willing  to  pay  you  or 
no.  You  need  not  make  many  words  with  theiu, 
but  only  these  two,  Stand  and  deliver!  and  there- 
fore a  true  thief  cannot  choose  but  be  wise,  because 
he  is  a  man  of  so  very  few  words. 

I  need  not  instruct  you,  1  think,  Gregory,  about 
the  politic  searching  of  crafly  carriers'  packs,  or 
ripping  up  the  bowels  of  wide  boots  and  cloak- 
bags  ;  I  do  not  doubt  but  you  have  already  exer- 
cised them  all.  But  one  thing  I  especially  charge 
you  of,  the  neglect  of  which  makes  many  of  your 
religion  tender  their  winepipes  at  Tyburn  at  least 
three  months  before  their  day  ;  thai  if  you  chance 
to  rob  a  virtuous  townsman  on  horseback,  with  his 
wife  upon  a  pillion  behind  him,  you  presently  speak 
them  fair  to  walk  a  turn  or  two  st  one  side,  where, 
binding  them  both  together,  like  man  and  wife,  arm 
in  arm  very  lovingly,  be  sure  you  tie  them  hard 
enough,  for  fear  they  break  the  bonds  of  matri- 
mony, which,  if  it  should  fall  out  so,  the  matter 
would  lie  sore  upon  your  necks  the  next  sessions 
afler,  because  your  negligent  tying  was  the  cause 
of  that  breach  between  them. 

Now,  as  for  your  Welsh  hue  and  cry — the  only 
net  to  catch  thieves  iu — I  know  you  avoid  well 
enough,  because  you  can  ahih  both  your  beards 
and  your  towns  well  ;  but  for  your  better  dis- 
1  henceforwai  ■    '       ■■  - 


n 


maker  of  n' 


hai 


>  for 


devi 


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


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


THE  BLACK  BOOK.  539 

their  bald  days  to  wear  yellow  curls  on  their  fore- 
heads, when  one  may  almost  eee  the  sun  go  to  bed 
through  the  chinks  of  their  faces. 

Moreover,  Gregory,  because  I  know  ihec  toward 
enough,  and  thy  arms  full  of  feats,  I  make  thee 
keeper  of  Combe  Park,*  sergeant  of  Salisbury  Plain, 
warden  of  ihe  sianding-placea,  and  lastly,  constable 
of  all  heaths,  holes,  highways,  and  cony -groves, 
hoping  that  thou  wilt  execute  these  places  and 
offices  as  truly  as  Derrick'  will  execute  his  place 
and  office  at  Tyburn. 

Item,  1  give  and  bequeath  to  thee,  Dick  Dogman, 
grand  catchpoll — over  and  above  thy  barcbone  fees, 
that  will  scarce  hang  wicked  flesh  on  thy  back — all 
such  lurches,  gripes,  and  squeezes  as  may  be  wrung 
out  by  the  fist  of  extortion. 

And  because  I  take  pity  on  thee,  waiting  so  long 
as  thou  usesc  (o  do,  ere  ihou  canst  land  one  fare  at 
■he  Counter,  watching  sometimes  ten  hours  together 
in  an  ale-house,  ever  and  anon  peeping  forth  and 
saTnpling  thy  nose  with  the  red  lattice;"  let  him 
whosoever  that  falls  into  thy  clutches  at  night  pay 
well  for  thy  standing  all  day :  and,  cousin  Richard, 
when  thou  hast  caught  him  in  the  mousetrap  of  thy 
liberty  with  the  cheese  of  thy  office,  the  wire  of 
thy  hard  fist  being  clapt  down  upon  his  shoulders, 
and  the  back  of  his  estate  almost  broken  to  pieces, 
then  call  thy  cluster  of  fellow- vermins  together, 
and  sit  in  triumph  with  thy  prisoner  at  the  upper 
end  of  a  tavern-table,  where,  under  the  colour  of 
shewing  him  favour  (as  you  term  it)  in  waiting 
for  bail,  thou  and  thy  counter-leech  may  swallow 

•  Combe  Park^  See  note,  vol,  ii.  p.  26*. 

•  Dirrick']  Seeime,  p.  B\S. 

•  Tti  lallicr]  i.  e.  laittce  painlvd  red  ;  Ihe  usual  dlitiaclion 
o(an  ile-houM:  (it  wui«ineiini»  of  other  coloura). 


540  THE  BLACK  BOOK. 

down  six  gallons  of  Charnieo,'  and  then  begin  lo 
chafe  that  he  makes  you  stay  so  long  before  Peier 
Bail"  comes.  And  here  ii  will  not  be  ainiss  if  you 
call  in  more  wine-Buekera,  and  damn  as  many  gal- 
lons again,  for  you  know  your  prisoner's  ransom 
will  pay  for  all ;  this  is,  if  the  |)arty  be  flush  now, 
and  would  not  have  his  credit  coppered  with  a 
scurvy  counter.' 

Another  kind  of  rest  you  have,  which  is  called 
shoepenny  —  that  is,  when  you  will  be  paid  for 
every  stride  you  take;  and  if  ihe  channel  be  dan- 
gerous and  rough,  you  will  not  step  over  under  a 
noble  ;"  a  very  excellent  lurch  to  get  up  the  price 
of  your  legs  between  Paul's-chain  and  Ludgale. 

But  that  which  likes*  me  beyond  measure  is  the 
villanous  nature  of  that  arrest  which  I  may  fitly 
term  by  the  name  of  cog-shoulder,  when  you  clap 
a"  both  sides  like  old  Rowse''  in  Cornwall,  and 
receive  double  fee  both  from  the  creditor  and  the 
debtor,  swearing  by  the  post  of  your  oflice  to 
ahoulder-clap  the  party  the  first  time  he  lights  upon 
the  limetwigs  of  your  liberty  ;  when  for  a  little 
usurer's  oil  you  allow  him  day  hy  day  free  passage 
to  walk  by  the  wicked  precinct  of  your  noses,  aod 
yet  you  will  pimple  your  souls  with  oaths,  til!  you 
make  them  as  well-favoured  as  your  faces,  and 
swear  he  never  came  within  the  verge  of  your  eye- 


'  CADi-mVo]  See  nale,  vol.  iii.  p.  213. 

»  PflerBaii]   In  using  the  n^mt  ■'  Pe 
to  have  allempled  a  sort  of  jest,  perhap 
brated  pentnan,  Peler  Bales,  wbo  a  m 

er"  ihe  auth 
alluding  lo  1 
etuioned  iti 

^'"c™(«r]  A  play  oti  the  meaning, 
piece  of  money  uied  for  recUouing,  and 
"  Boi/.]  See  note,  p.  287. 

fthe  vord,- 
a  prison. 

•  liki,]  I  e.  pleases. 

'  old  «™..c]  Perhap.  some  Cornish  b 

roller. 

THE  BLACK  DOOK.  541 

lida.  Nay,  more,  if  the  creditor  were  preient  to 
see  bim  arrested  on  the  one  aide,  and  the  party 
you  not  on  over  tlie  way  at  the  other  side,  you 
have  such  quaint  shifla,  pretty  hinderances,  and 
most  lawyer-like  delays,  ere  you  will  set  forward, 
that  in  the  meantime  he  may  make  himself  away 
in  some  by-alley,  or  rush  into  the  bowels  of  some 
tavern  or  drinking- school ;  or  if  neither,  you  will 
find  talk  with  some  sbark'shif^  by  the  way,  and 
give  him  the  marks  of  the  party,  who  will  presently 
start  before  you,  give  the  debtor  intelligence,  and  so 
a  rotten  fig  for  the  catchpoll !  A  most  witty,  smooth, 
and  damnable  conveyance!*  Many  such  cunning 
devices  breed  In  the  reins  of  your  offices  beside.  I 
leave  to  speak  of  your  unmerciful  dragging  a  gen- 
tleman through  Fleet-street,  to  the  utter  confusion 
of  his  white  feather,  and  the  lamentable  spattering 
of  his  pearl-colour  silk  stockings,  especially  when 
some  six  of  your  black  dogs  of  Newgate  '  are  upon 

*  cmMyanci]  See  note,  p.  £17. 

■  black dogi^Smgale]  Atracl,p«lly verfeindparttyproie, 
called  The  Bttrkt  Doggi  t/NtwgaIr  .•  both  pithk  and  profitahlt for 
all  Rtadert.  /.mibii.  410.  n.  d.  (reprinted  with  some  addirioni 
and  alterationB  in  163S),  wu  written,  or  il  kait  profciacE  to 
be  wrillen,  by  Luke  Hulton,  who.  for  Tobberiei  and  treapamea, 
irss  hanged  at  York  in  169S.  Under  the  lille  of  Flu  Black 
Dog  <if  ^Itiegatt,  it  waa  the  aulhor*!  deeign  lo  "  ahadoir  the 
knauerie,  tillanie,  robberie,  and  Cuniii  catch  ins,  commilled 
daily  by  diuera,  who  in  the  name  of  aeruice  and  olHce,  were 
■a  it  were,  itleodants  si  Newgale."  fijg.  d  3.  "  They  wilt 
vndertake  if  a  man  be  robd  by  the  way,  ihey  will  helpe  the 
party  oOended  to  hia  money  againe,  or  to  ihe  theeuri  al  the 

of  Plate  Btole,  [hey  will  promiae  the  lifcei  tuaiy,  to  further 
ihia  SDod  peece  of  Beniice,  they  mual  haue  a  Warrant  pro- 
cured from  aome  Justice  at  the  leaat,  ihat  by  Ihe  aayd  general 
Warram,  Ihey  may  lake  ip  al)  aiiipected  persona :  whicb 
being  obieined,  then  marke  how  notably  therewith  they  play 
VOL.  v.  3  A 


512 


TUB  BLACK  BOOK. 


him  at  once.  Therefore,  aweet  cousm  Richard  (for 
you  are  the  nearcBt  kineman  1  have),  I  give  and 
bequcaib  to  you  no  more  (han  you  hare  already  ; 
Tor  you  are  ao  well  gorged  and  stuSed  nith  that, 
thai  one  spoonful  of  villany  more  would  overlay 
your  stomach  quite,  and,  I  fear  me,  make  you  kick 
up  all  the  rest. 

Iteni,  I  give  and  bequeath  to  you,  Benedick  Bot- 
tomlesa,  tnoat  deep  cutpurie,  all  the  benefit  of 
pageant-days,  great  market-days,  ballat- placet,'* 
but  eapecially  the  sixpenny  roomB  in  play~houaes, 
to  cut,  dive,  or  nim,  with  as  much  speed,  art,  antl 
dcKterity,  as  may  be  handled  by  honest  rogues  of 
thy  quality.  Nay,  you  shall  not  stick.  Benedick, 
to  give  a  shave  of  your  office  at  Paul's-cross  in  the 
sermon-lime :  but  thou  boldest  it  a  thing  thou 
mayest  do  by  law,  to  cut  a  purse  in  Westminster 
Hall ;  true,  Denedick,  if  thou  be  sure  the  law  be 
on  that  side  thou  cuttest  it  on. 

Item,  I  cive  and  bequeath  to  you,  old  Bias,  alias 
Hutnfrey  Hollowbank,  true  cheating  bowler  and 
lurcher,  the  one  half  of  all  false  bets,  cunning 
hooks,  subtle  ties,  and  cross-lays,'  that  arc  ven- 
tured upon  the  landing  of  your  bowl,  and  the  safe 
arriving  at  the  haven  of  the  mistress,'*  if  it  chance 
to  pass  all  the  dangerous  rocks  and  ruba  of  the 

ihc  koaufi,  how  ■lixmerullf  they  sbuie  ihe  Jiuliccs  who 
giBunted  the  Warraal,  and  hoo  noloriouilie  (hcf  abuse  ■ 
^teaison  ofpoore  men,  who  neither  the  Warrant  meDbonelb, 
nor  the  par^e  ajireeued  in  any  wjae  ihDugbl  id  molen  or 
iTouble."  Sig.  D  3.  He  then  proceeds  lo  give  Hveral  in- 
sisncea  vf  ilieir  various  hnaveriea. 

^  ballal-placta]  i.  e,,  I  BUppoic,  placei  whore  ballad*  are 

snug. 

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

*  tuilreti]  Comjtare  p.  IS,  and  note. 


THE  BLACK  BOOK.  543 

allejr,  and  be  not  choked  in  the  sand,  like  a  mer- 
chant's ship  before  it  cornea  half-way  home,  which 
is  none  of  your  fault  (you'll  say  and  swear),  although 
in  your  own  turned  conscience  you  know  that  you 
threw  it  above  three  yards  short  out  of  hand,  upon 
very  set  purpose. 

Moreover,  Humfrey,  I  give  you  the  lurching  of 
all  young  novices,  citizens'  sons,  and  country  gen- 
tlemen, that  are  hooked  in  by  the  winning  of  one 
twelvepenny  game  at  first,  lost  upon  policy,  to  be 
cheated  of  twelve  pounds'  worth  a,'  bets  afterward. 
And,  old  Bias,  because  thou  art  now  and  then  smelt 
out  for  a  corener,  I  would  have  thee  sometimes  go 
disguised  (in  honest  apparel),  and  so  drawing  in 
amongst  bunglers  and  keOers*  under  the  plain  frieze 
of  simplicity,  thou  mayest  Rnely  couch  the  wrougbt- 
V  el  vet  of  knavery. 

Item,  I  give  and  bequeath  to  your  cousin-german 
here,  Francis  Fingcrfalse,  deputy  of  dicing-houses, 
all  cunning  lifts,  shifts,  and  couches,  that  ever  were, 
are,  and  shall  be  invented  from  this  hour  of  eleven- 
clock  upon  black  Mondiiy,  until  it  smite  twelve  a' 
clock  at  doomsday.  And  this  I  know,  Francis, 
if  you  do  endeavour  to  excel,  as  I  know  you  do, 
and  will  truly  practise  falsely,  you  may  live  more 
gallanter  far  upon  three  dice,  than  many  of  your 
foolish  heirs  about  London  upon  thrice  tliree  hun- 
dred acres. 

But  turning  my  legacy  to  you-ward,  Barnaby 
Burning-glass,  arch-lobacco-taker  of  England,  in 

•  ktlleril  Compare  Father  HubburiTi  Talet,  which  rallovs 
the  preunt  trace ;  "  like  bd  old  cunning  bowler  (o  fetch  in  a 
young  kelUug  gtmetter :"  but  I  do  not  undiTslaod  ihis  cuit 
term,  nor  Ihe  words  "couch"  and  "  couches"  which  [iretentlj 
occut  above. 


544 


fBE  BI^CK  BOOK. 


ordinariei,  upon  Blagess  both  commoD  and  private, 
and  IsEtly,  in  the  lodging  of  your  drab  and  mis- 
tresB  ;  I  am  not  a  little  proud,  I  can  tell  you.  Bar- 
naby,  that  you  dance  af^eT  my  pipe  so  long,  and 
for  all  counterblasiB ''  and  lobacco-N ashes'  (which 
■ome  call  railers),  you  are  not  blown  away,  nor 
your  Rery  thirst  quenched  with  the  small  penny- 
ale  of  their  contradictions,  but  still  suck  that  dug 
of  damnation  with  a  long  nipple,  still  burning  that 
rare  Phicnix  of  Phlegethon,  tobacco,  that  from  her 
ashes,  burned  and  knocked  out,  may  arise  another 
pipeful.  Therefore  1  give  and  bequeath  unto  thee 
a  breath  of  all  religions  save  the  true  one,  and 
lasting  of  all  countries  save  his'  own  ;  a  brain  well 
sooted,  nhere  the  Muses  bang  up  in  the  smoke  like 
red  herrings;  and  look  bow  the  narrow  alley  of 
thy  pipe  shews  in  the  inside,  so  shall  alt  the  pipes 
through  thy  body.  Besides,  I  give  and  bequeath  to 
thee "  lungs  as  smooth  as  jet,  and  just  of  the  same 
colour,  that  when  thou  art  closed  in  thy  grave,  the 
worms  may  be  consumed  with  them,  and  take  them 
for  black  puddings. 

Lastly,  not  least,  I  give  and  bequeath  to  thee. 
Pierce  Pennyless,  exceeding  poor  scholar,  tliat  hath 
made  clean  shoes  in  both  universities,  and  been  a 
pitiful  battler'  all  thy  lifetime,    full   oflen  heard 


'lagti]  Tobacco  wu  oflen  ti 


JkmeB.  J  Catnttrblail  It  Tobacen. 

'  lel>acio-tfothti}  See  p.  6G1,  line  6. 

>  Ail]  Qy.  •'ihy"f— ^A  friend  auggeiii  ih»t  "hjiown"  may 
be  ■  reverentUl  mode  of  expreuing  "  Ooi't." 

'  rt«]  Old  sd.  "  thy." 

'  a  piitful  tariler]  "  Though  in  the  meanest  condition  of 


THB  BUCK  SOOX. 


045 


TTith  thii  laroeniable  cry  at  the  buttery-hatch,  Ho, 
Launcelot,  a  cue "  of  bread,  and  a  cue  of  beer ! 
never  passing  beyond  the  confiDes  of  a  farthing, 
nor  once  munching  commons  but  only  upon  gaudy- 
daya;'  to  thee,  most  miserable  Pierce,  or  pierced 
through  and  through  with  misery,  I  bequeath  the 
tithe  of  all  vaulilug'-houaes,''  the  tenth  dealer  of 
each  heigh,  pass,  come  aloft  I  beside  the  playing  in 
and  out  of  all  wenches  at  thy  pleasure,  which  1 
know,  as  thou  mayest  use  it,  will  be  such  a  fluent 
pension,  that  thou  ahalt  never  have  ne«d  to  write 
Suppliealion  again. 

Now,  for  the  especial  trust  and  contidence  I  have 
in  both  you,  Mihell"  Moneygod,  usurer,  and  Leo- 
nard Lavender,  broker  or  pawn-lender,  I  make  you 
two  my  full  executors  to  the  true  disposing  of  all 
these  my  hellish  intents,  wealthy  viUanics,  and  most 
pernicious  damnable  legacies. 

And  DOW,  kinsmen  and  friends,  wind  about  me ; 
my  breath  begins  to  cool,  and  all  my  powers  to 
freeze ;  and  I  can  say  no  more  to  you,  nephews, 
than  1  have  said, — only  this,  I  leave  you  all,  like 
ratsbane,  to  poison  the  realm.  And,  I  pray,  be  all 
of  you  as  arrant  villains  as  you  can  be ;  and  so 
farewell ;  he  all  hanged,  and  come  down  to  me  as 

This  said,  he  departed  to  his  molten  kingdom : 

thoie  that  were  wholly  maintained  [in  the  Univeraitj  or  Ox- 
Tord]  b;  (heir  parents,  a  balllir  or  temi-commoDer,"  Sic.  Lift 
Iff  Bf.  Eimelt,  p.  4 — ciled  by  Todd  ( Jobnioa'a  Diet.)  in  v. 

'  cii(]  L  e.  amall  porlion.  "  Cue,  balfe  a  farlhing,  ao  called 
becauie  they  ael  dowa  in  the  Battling  or  Butlerie  Books  in 
Oxford  and  Cambridge  the  letter  q.  for  balfe  a  farthing,"  &c. ; 
see  Minsbeu'a  Qaidt  Mo  Tinigiui,  in  v. 

'  gatidy-dayt\   L  e.  feativali. 

"  BouWiiw-iMwei]  i.  c,  broihela. 

■  JtfifeHjQy.  "Michael": 


the  wind  tiue,"  the  bottom  of  tbe  cbaii  finr  ear, 
the  scrivener  fell  flu  upon  hk  Doae;  and  beie  ia 
the  end  of  a  barmleaa  monl. 


Now,  air,  what  ia  ^our  censort'  now?  jxtn  bxre 
read  me,  I  am  aure  ;  am  1  black  enough,  ihink  joa, 
dreased  up  in  a  laating  suit  of  ink  F  do  I  dcserre 
my  dark  and  pitchy  title  ?  stick  I  close  enoi^li 
to  a  villain'*  riba  ?  is  not  Luciier  liberal  lo  fata 
DepheWB  in  this  his  last  will  and  lestam^tii  ?  Me- 
thiiiks  I  hear  you  say  nothing ;  and  therefore  I 
know  you  are  pleased  and  agree  to  all,  for  qui  lam, 
amtenlire  viJetur ;  aiid  I  allow  you  wise  and  truly 
judicious,  because  you  keep  your  censure  to  your- 
self. 


FATHER  HUBBURiyS  TALES; 


OE, 


THE  ANT  AND  THE  NIGHTINGALE. 


^ 


Falitr  HubbMriU  TaleM.-  or  The  Ant,  and  the  NighliiigaU. 
Lomloti  PriiHid  by  T.  C./or  WWIam  CeUem,  and  are  to  he  taUt 
at  hit  Shop  Ktare  adiognbtg  ta  Ludgate.  1S01.  4lD. 

The  fint  edition  of  Ihii  iTBCt,  in  which  Kverai  lersM  and 
the  whole  of  "  The  Ant's  Tale  when  he  wu  >  Bcholai"  are 
omitted,  made  its  appearanoe  during  the  aame  year  in  4lo, 
entitled  Tht  Ant  and  Ih4  Ntgliling<at :  or  Falhir  Hubtmrdi 
Tattt.  trndoa  Prinltd  by  T.  C.far  Tho:  BulhtU,  and  art  to  be 
.Me  by  Jrfrtg  Chorltm.  at  hU  Shop  at  Iht  North  doere  of  PmUi. 
Mr.  J.  P.  Collier  (BrUgiwaltr-Hoiue  Catalogue,  p.  199)  men- 
tions it  aa  the  hcmij  edition;  but  a  careful  examinatiDn  of 
both  the  impresiioni  has  convinced  me  that  it  ii  thejfrif. 

Taylor,  the  water-poet,  in  a  "  Preamble"  to  The  Praiie  4 
Hempiced  (Rnt  printed  in  1620),  thus  alludes  to  the  present 


Ta  the  trve  general  patron  of  all  Mutet,  MiMcians, 
Poela,  and  Picture ' dra-wera,  Sia  Chaistopheb 
CLDTCHyisT,  knighted  at  a  very  hard  pmnyworth, 
neither  Jar  eating  niusk-mehru,  anehoviei,  or  axei- 
are,  hat  for  a  coilRer  eTploii  and  a  hundred-pound 
feat  o/amu,  Olitbr  HuBsuttD,  brother  to  the  nine 
waiting-gentleioomen  the  Muset,  truJieth  the  decrease 
ofhii  lands  and  the  inercate  of  Ids  legs,  that  kit  calvei 
may  hang  damn  Uke  gtamuhoet.' 

Most  guerdonlest  sir,  pinching  patron,  and  the 
Muses'  bail  paymaster,  thou  that  owest  for  all  the 
pamphlets,  histories,  and  translations  that  ever  bave'' 
been  dedicated  to  thee  since  thou  wert  one  and 
twenty,  and  couldst  make  water  upon  thine  own 
lands :  but  beware,  sir,  you  cannot  carry  it  away  so, 
I  can  tell  you,  for  all  your  copper-gilt  spurs  and 
your  brood  of  feathers ;  for  there  are  certain  line- 
sharkers  that  have  coursed  the  countries  to  seek 
you  out  already,  and  they  nothing  doubt  but  to  find 
you  here  this  Candlemas-term  ;  which,  if  it  should 
fall  out  BO — as  1  hope  your  worship  is  wiser  than 
to  venture  up  so  soon  to  the  chambers  of  London — 
they  have  plotted  together  with  the  best  common 
play-plotter  in  England  to  arrest  you  at  the  Muses' 
suit — though  they  shoot  short  of  them — and  to  set 
one  of  the  sergeants  of  poetry,  or  rather  the  Poultry,'= 
to  claw  you  by  the  back,  who,  with  one  clap  on 
your  shoulder,  will  bruise  all  the  taffeta  to  pieces. 

■  gamatlu€t']  Are  Tariomly  explained — ihort  fpBtlerdashsi, 
and  coane  cloth  tiockings  ihal  bultan  over  otber  itochingi, 
'  iBKl  Ed».  ••  hath." 
*  pBUllrii]  i.  e.  Ibe  Counter  prison  in  tlie  Foulcrf. 


552 

Now  vbat  the  matter  is  between  you,  you  know 
best  yourself,  air  ;  only  I  hear  that  they  rait  against 

Jou  in  booksellers'  shops  very  dreadfully,  that  you 
ave  used  them  most  unbniglitly,  in  offering  lo  lake 
their  books,  and  nould  never  return  so  much  sb 
would  pay  for  the  covers,  beside  the  gilding  too, 
which  stands  them  in  somewhat,  you  know,  and  a 
yard  and  a  quarter  of  broad  sixpenny  ribband  ;  the 
price  of  that  you  are  not  ignorant  of  yourself,  be- 
cause you  wear  broad  shoe-string  ;  and  they  cannot 
be  persuaded  but  that  you  pull  the  strings  off  from 
their  books,  and  so  maintain  your  shoes  all  the 
year  long ;  and  think,  verily,  if  the  book  be  in  folio, 
that  you  take  off  the  parchment,  and  give  it  to  your 
tailor,  but  save  all  the  gilding  together,  which  may 
amount  in  time  to  gild  you  a  pair  of  spurs  withal. 
Such  are  the  miserable  conceits  they  gather  of  you, 
because  you  never  give  the  poor  Muse-suckers  a 
penny ;  wherefore,  if  1  might  counsel  you,  sir,  the 
next  time  they  came  with  their  gilded  dedications, 
you  should  take  the  books,  make  your  men  break 
their  pates,  then  give  them  ten  groats  a-piece,  and 
so  drive  them  away. 

Your  woiship'f. 

If  yon  embrace  my  counsel, 

Oliver  HtrBsusD, 


TO  THE  READER. 


Shall  I  tell  you  what,  reader? — but  first  I  should 
call  you  gentle,  courteous,  and  wise ;  but  'tis  no 
matter,  they're  but  foolish  words  of  course,  sod 
better  lell  out  than  printed  ;  for  if  you  be  so,  you 
need  not  be  called  so;  and  if  you  be  not  so,  there 
were  law  against  me  for  calling  you  out  of  your 
names:  —  by  John  of  Paul's- church  yard,'  I  swear, 
and  [hat  oath  will  be  taken  at  any  haberdasher's, 
I  never  wished  this  book  better  fortune  than  to 
fall  into  the  hands  of  a  true-spelling  printer,  and 
an  honest-minded''  boDkaeller;  andif  honesty  could 
be  sold  by  the  bushel  like  oysters,  I  had  rather  have 
one  Bushel'  of  honesiv  than  three  of  money. 

Why  I  call  these  Father  Huhbard't  Tales,  is  not 
to  have  them  called  in  again,  as  the  Tale  of  Mother 
Hubburd:'  the  world  would  shew  little  judgment 

<  John  of  Paul' I  CImrchyard]  Wa9.  11  appeari  frum  thiB 
puiage.  a  habpTduhcr;  he  ii  again  mentioned  in  the  present 
iricL  Thai  he  lold  bati,  tre  are  infarmed  by  more  than  one 
oldwrilert  lo  Dekker;  "  John  in  Paul'i  churchjard  shall  fit 
his  head  for  an  excellent  block  [j.  e.  hit]."  Tht  Guiri  Hom- 
beali,  16U9,  p.  04,  reprint 

'  hBHtil-miaileii]  Fint  ed.  "  Asnof-atitching." — perhapa 
the  belter  reading. 

•  Buihil^  An  allusion  to  Tbomai  Buaheti,  for  whom  the 
flrat  ed.  of  Ihia  tract  was  printed,  ice  p.  349,  and  title-page  of 
Mkro-cynicoa,  p.  481. 

'  Talt  qf  MQthtr  Hubburd,  &c.]  In  the  Bridgtwaltr-ISBHtt 
Calalogut  this  paaaage  is  quoted  by  Mr.  J.  P.  Collier,  who 
obierveG,  "  If  it  do  not  ahew  that  Spenser's  '  MotUec  Hub- 
berd's  Tale'  was  '  called  in  afcain,'  it  proves  thai  obalruction 
«s<  offered  hi;  public  authorities  to  some  nibaequent  pro- 
duction under  the  same  name,"  p.  30().  —  Aisuredly  the  allu- 
sion is  not  to  Spenser'a  poem :  in  it  the  "  sp«  "  indeed  llgurea 
conipicuoualy,  but  there  \i  no  mention  of  "rugg^  bears,"  or 
"  the  lamentable  downfal  of  the  old  wife's  platlera." 


S54 

in  that,  i'fsilh ;  and  I  should  say  then,  plena  stulio- 
rum  omnia;  for  I  entreat*  here  neither  of  rugged" 
bears  or  apes,  no,  nor  the  lamentable  downfal  of 
the  old  wife's  platters, — I  deal  with  no  such  tnetal: 
what  is  mirth  in  me,  is  as  harmless  as  the  quarter- 
jacks  in  Paul's,  that  are  up  with  their  elbows'  four 
times  an  hour,  and  yet  misuse  no  creature  liring; 
the  very  bitterest  in  me  is  but  like  a  physical  frost, 
that  nips  the  wicked  blood  a  little,  and  so  makes 
the  whole  body  the  wholesomer  :  and  none  can  justly 
except  at  me  but  some  riotous  vomiting  Kit,'  or 
some  gentleman-swallowing  malkin.  Then,  to  con- 
demn these  Tales  following  because  Father  Hub- 
burd  tells  them  in  the  small  size  of  an  ant,  is  even 
as  much  as  if  these  two  words,  God  and  Devil,  were 
primed  both  in  one  line,  to  skip  it  over  and  say  that 
line  were  naught,  because  the  devil  were  in  it. 
Sal  sapienii;  and  I  hope^  there  be  many  wise  men 
in  all  the  twelve  Companies.' 


If  you  read  without  spelling  or  hacking, 

T.  M. 

««.r«,ni.e.lre.L 

'  "'ggfd)  So  fint  ed.     Sec  ed.  "  Ragged." 

'  lit  quarliT-jacki  in  PauTiilhnI  art  up  tcilh  iStir  tllmii/i]  Cvai- 
pare  Dekker's  GulFi  Hornlaok.  1G09,  '•  If  Fnul't  jacks  btf  oi 
up  with  tbeir  elbooa,  and  quarrelling  to  ttribe  elevrn  " 
rcpriol.  The  figures  wliicb  in  old  pubJic  clocki  ati 
bell  on  [be  ouliide  were  called  JaelrM  iff  Ibt  elnck  or  eisec- 
houie:  many  rpaderi  will  recollvci  ihme  Bbich  a  few  jean 
ago  were  to  be  seen  nl  Sc  Dunstan'a  Church,  Fleet-itreeL 

>  A'l'M  A  fi-iend  queriea  if  ibere  be  not  here  an  alluaian  to 
Kit  Marlowe! 

■>  Sat  lapuHli :  imi  I  hupe,  &c.]  So  our  author  {■««  nolr. 

f.  S\i)  in  the  Induction  to  Mickaelpiaa  Tern  ;    "  Sat  rapienif . 
hope  there's  no  fooli  i'  ih'  houae,"  vol  i.  p,  418. 
'  Ctmpanht^  So  flrit  ed.    Sec  ed.  "  Compauie." 


"  p-  96, 
ocklbe 


THE  ANT  AND  THE  NIGHTINGALE. 


1  HE  wesl-se&  s  goddesa  in  a  crimson  robe. 
Her  temples  circled  with  a  coral  wreath. 

Waited  her  love,  the  lightener  of  earth's  globe: 
The  wanton  wind  did  on  her  bosom  breathe  ; 

The  nymphs  of  springs  did  hallow'd'  water  pouf; 

Whate'er  was  cold  help'd  to  make  cool  her  bower. 

And  now  the  fiery  horses  of  the  Sun 

Were  from  their  golden- flaming  car  untrac'd, 

And  all  the  glory  of  the  day  was  done. 

Save  here  and  there  some  light  moon-clouds  en 

A  parti- colour'd  canopy  did  spread 
Over  the  Sun  and  Thetis'  amorous  bed. 


Now  had  the  shepherds  folded  in  their  flocks, 
The  sweating  teams  uncoupled  from  their  yokes  : 

The  wolf  sought  prey,  and  the  sly-murdering  fox 
Attempts  to  steal;  fearless  of  rural  strokes, 

All  beasts  took  rest  that  liv'd  by  labouring  toil ; 

Only  such  rang'd  as  had  delight  in  spoil. 

Now  in  the  pathless  region  of  the  air 
The  winged  passengers  had  \eit  to  soar. 

Except  the  bat  and  owl,  who  bode  sad  care, 
And  Philomel,  that  nightly  doth  deplore. 

In  soul' contenting  tunes,  her  change  of  shape. 

Wrought  first  by  perfidy  and  lustful  rape. 
'  kalloa'd'i  Eds.  "  hollowed." 


56d  FATHER  BDBBDKD's  TALB£. 


This  poor  musician,  sitting  all  alone 

On  a  green  hawihorn  from  the  thunder  ble« 

Carols  in  varied  notes  her  antique  motin. 

Keeping  a  sharpen'd  briar  against  her  breast : 

Her  innocence  this  watchful  pain  doth  take. 

To  shun  the  adder  and  the  speckled  snake. 

These  two,  like  her  old  foe  the  lord  of  Thrace, 
Regardless  of  her  dulcet-changing  song, 

To  serve  their  onn  lust  have  her  life  in  chase ; 
Virtue  by  vice  is  ofFer'd  endless  wrong: 

Beasts  are  not  all  to  blame,  for  now  and  then 

We  see  the  like  attempted  amongst  men. 

Under  the  tree  whereon  the  poor  bird  sat, 
There  was  a  bed  of  busy-toiling;  ants, 

That  in  their  summer  winter's  comfort  gat, 
Teaching  poor  men  how  to  shun  ailer-w 

Whose  rules  if  sluggards  could  be  leam'd  to  keep, 

Tliey  should  not  starve  awake,  lie  cold  asleep. 


f  these  busy  brethren,  having  done 
B  day's  true  labour,  got  upon  the  tree, 
And  with  his  little  nimble  legs  did  run  ; 

Pleas'd  with  the  hearing,  he  desir'd  to  see 
Wliat  wondrous  creature  nature  had  compos'd. 
In  whom  such  gracious  music  was  enclos'd. 

He  got  too  near;  for  the  mistrustful  bird 

GucBs'd  him  to  be  a  spy  from  her  known  foe  : 

Suspicion  argues  not  to  bear  a  word: 

What  wise  msn  fears  not  that's  inur'd  to  woe  ? 

Then  blame  not  her  she  caught  him  in  her  beak. 

About  to  kill  him  ere  the  worm"'  could  speak. 

"  tffwBi]  Equivalent  to— wretch,  poor  creature. 


keep,      1 

m 


FATHER  hubbord's  tales.       257 


But  yet  lier  mercy  was  above  lier  heal ; 

She  did  not,  as  a  many  silken  men 
Call'dbymuchwealth,  small  wit,  to  judgment's  seal," 

Condemn  at  random  ;  but  she  pitied  then 
When  she  might  spoil :    would  great  ones  would 

Who  often  kill  before  the  cause  they  know. 

O,  if  they  would,  as  did  this  little  fowl, 

Look  on  their  lesser  captives  with  even  ruth. 

They  should  not  hear  so  many  sentenc'd  honl, 
Complaining  justice  is  not  friend  to  truth  I 

But  they  would  think  upon  this  ancient  theme, 

Each  right  extreme  is  injury  extreme. 

Pass  them  to  mend,  for  none  can  them  amend 
But  heaven's  lieutentant  and  earth's  justice-king 

Stern  will  hath  will ;  no  great  one  wants  a  friend  ; 
Some  are  ordain 'd  to  sorrow,  some  to  sing ; 

And  with  this  sentence  let  thy  griefs  all  close, 

Whoe'er  are  wrong'd  are  happier  than  their  foes. 

So  much  for  such.     Now  to  the  little  ant 
In  the  bird's  beak  and  at  the  point  to  die: 

Alas  for  woe,  friends  in  distress  are  scant  I 
None  of  his  fellows  to  his  help  did  hie ; 

They  keep  them  safe  ;  they  hear,  and  are  afraid  : 

'Tis  vain  to  trust  in  the  base  number's  aid. 

Only  himself  unto  himself  is  friend  : 

With  a  faint  voice  his  foe  he  thus  bespake ; 

Why  seeks  your  gentleness  a  poor  worm's  end  ? 
O,  ere  you  kill,  hear  the  excuse  1  make ! 

I  come  to  wonder,  not  to  work  offence  : 

There  is  no  glory  to  spoil  ii 


]  So  flnt  ed.    Sec.  ed.  "  Judgemeat  u 


flS8  FATHER  HUBBCKO'b  TAtES. 

Perchance  you  lake  me  for  b  sootbing  spy. 
By  the  sly  snake  or  envious  adder  fee'd  : 

Alas,  I  know  not  how  to  feign  and  lie. 
Or  win  a  base  intelligencer's  meed, 

That  now  are  Christians,  somelinies  Turks,  | 

Living  by  leaving  heaven  for  earthly  news. 


lam" 

a  little  en 

nmet 

,  bom  (o  work. 

1 

Ofti 

1  you  were 

once  a  maid : 

■ 

Under 

the  name 

■oft 

□an  much 

ill  doth  lurk. 

Yet 

of  poor  n 

ne  y< 

)u  need  no 

I  be  afraid  ; 

Mean 

men  are  i 

IS,  on  whom  the  mishty 

tread; 

Greatn 

less  and  s 

trength  your  v 

irtue  injured. 

J 

With  that  she  open'd  wide  her  horny  bill, 

The  prison  where  this  poor  aubmiisant  lay  (  1 

And  seeing  the  poor  ant  lie  quivering  still, 
Go,  wretch,  quoth  she,  I  give  ihee  life  and 

The  worthy  will  not  prey  on  yielding  things. 

Pity  'a  infeofT^d  to  the  blood  of  kings. 

For  1  was  once,  though  now  a  fcather'd  veil 
Cover  my  wronged  body,  queen-like  clad ; 

This  down  about  my  neck  was  erst  a  railP 
Of  byssi  embroider'd — fie  on  that  we  had! 

Unthrilis  and  fools  and  wronged  ones  complain 

Rich  things  were  theirs  must  ne'er  be  theirs  again. 

I  was,  thou  know'st,  the  daughter  to  a  king. 
Had  palaces  and  pleasures  in  my  time; 

Now  mine  own  songs  I  am  enforc'd  to  sing. 
Poets  forget  me  in  their  pleasing  rhyme  ; 

»,&c.]  Ed>."Trua[me:  /an,"fto. 


as 


FATHEK  RVBBUKD  S  TAI.ES.  559 

Like  chaif  ihey  fly,  tose'A  with  each  windy  breath, 
Omittbg  my  forc'd  rape  by  Tereus'  death. 

But  'tis  no  matter;  I  myself  can  aing 

Sufficient  strains  to  witness  mine  own  worth : 

They  that  forget  a  queen  aoolhe  with  a  king ;  i 
Flattery's  still  barren,  yet  still  bringeth  forth  : 

Their  works  are  dews  shed  when  the  day  is  done, 

But  stick'd  up  dry  by  the  next  morning's''  sun. 

What  more  of  them?  they  are  like  Iris'  throne, 
Commix'd  with  many  colours  in  moist  time: 

Such  lines  portend  what's  in  that  circle  shewn  ; 
Clear  weather  follows  showers  in  every  clime. 

Averring  no  prognosticator  lies, 

That  Bays,  some  great  ones  fall,  their  rivals  rise. 

Pass  such  for  bubbles  ;  let  their  bladder-praise 
Shine  and  sink  with  them  in  a  moment's  change  ; 

They  think  (o  rise  when  they  the  riser  raise ; 
But  regal  wisdom  knows  it  is  not  strange 

For  curs  10  fawn  :  base  things  are  ever  low ; 

The  vulgar  eye  feeds  only  on  the  shot*. 

Else  would  not  soothing  glosers  oil  the  son. 
Who,  while  his  father  liv'd,  his  acts  did  hate : 

They  know  all  earthly  day  with  man  is  done 
When  he  is  circled  in  the  night  of  fate ; 

So  the  deceased  they  think  on  no  more. 

But  whom  they  injur'd  late,  they  now  adore. 

1  Tliiy  thai  fvrget  a  q*tt»  •oolhi  uiilk  a  ki«g]  Ry"aqueen" 
ii  ncant,  1  premme,  Eliiabelh  i  by  "  a  king."  Jamci.  wlio 
liod  reccDily  Bicended  the  tliroae  i  *Dd  Me  the  Tourlb  atuiH 
after  ihiB. 

'  ■MrniNf't]  So  firat  ed.    Sec.  ed.  "  morning." 


560  TATIrER  HBBBDRD'a  TALE*. 

But  there's  a  manly  lion  now  can  roar 
Thunder  more  dreaded  than  the  liooess  ; 

Of  him  let  simple  beasts  his  aid  implore. 

For  he  conceives  more  than  they  eao  express  : 

The  virtuous  politic  is  truly  man, 

Devil  the  atheist  politician. 

1  guess'd  thee  such  a  one ;   but  tell  thy  tale  : 
If  thou  be  simple,  as  thou  hast  exprest. 

Do  not  with  coined  words  set  wit  to  sale, 

Nor  with  the  flattering  world  use  vain  protest : 

Sith'  man  thou  say'st  thou  wert,  I  prithee,  tell 

While  thou  wert  man  what  mischiefs  tbec  befell. 

Princess,  you  bid  me  buried  cares  revive. 
Quoth  the  poor  ant ;  yet  sith  by  you  I  live, 

So  let  me  in  my  daily  labourings  thrive 
As  I  myself  do  to  your  service  give  : 

1  have  been  oft  a  man,  and  lo  to  be 

Is  often  lo  be  thrall  to  misery. 

But  if  you  will  have  rae  my  mind  disclose, 
I  must  entreat  you  that  I  may  set  down 

The  tales  of  my  black  fortunes  in  sad'  prose: 
Rhyme  is  uneven,  fashion'd  by  a  clown  ; 

1  first  was  such  a  one,  I  lill'd  the  ground  ; 

And  amongst  rurals  verse  is  scarcely  found. 

Well,  tell  thy  tales ;  but  see  thy  prose  be  good  ; 
For  if  thou  Euphuigte,  which  ODce  was  rare," 

•  Silk]  l  e.  Sinco.  '  inrf  ]  L  t.  grare,  sober. 

■■  Eupkuiii,  wAic*  oaei  wai  ran]  i.  e.  use  ihc  unnatural 
alTecled  style,  vhioh  wu  once  Bccouiited  fzcellenl.  It  wmi 
readered  (Mhionnlile  by  ihe  iwo  fnmoiH  produciions  of  Lyiy, 
Hvpla,!;  tht  A»atamy  of  WU,  and  Eupliufi  and  hii  England. 


FATHER  HUBBUED  B  TALES.  SGI 

Aod  of  all  English  phrase  ihe  life  and  blood, 

In  those  times  for  the  fashion  past  compare, 
I'll  say  ihou  borrow'sl,  and  condemn  thy  style, 
As  our  new  fools,  that  count  all  following  vile. 

Or  if  in  bitterness  tliou  rail,  like  Nash  — 

Forgive  me,  honest  soul,  that  term  thy  phrase 

Railing !  for  in  ihy  works  thou  wert  not  rash, 
Nor  didst  affect  in  youth  thy  private  praise  : 

Thou  hadsl  a  strife  with  that  Trigemini ;  * 

Thou  huri'dst  not  them  till  they  had  injur'd  thee. 

Thou  wast  indeed  too  slothful  to  thyself. 
Hiding  thy  better  talent  in  tby  spleen  ; 

True  spirits  are  not  covetous  in  pelf; 
Youth's  wit  is  ever  ready,  quick,  and  keen : 

Thou  didst  not  live  thy  ripen' d  autumn- day. 

But  wert  cut  off  in  thy  best  blooming  May: 

Else  badst  thou  1ej\,  as  iboii  indeed  hast  left. 
Sufficient  test,  though  now  in  others'  chests, 

T'  improve"  the  baseness  of  that  humorous  theft," 
Which  seems  to  flow  from  self- conceiving  breasts : 

'  TrigemiHi]  i.  e.  Gabriel  Harvey  aad  his  two  leiu  diilin- 
guiihed  brothers,  Richard  and  John.  For  various  partieulats 
concerning  ihia  memorBbJe  "  strife  "  (wbich  was  lerminaled  in 
1599  hy  an  order  of  the  Archbiahop  of  Canlcrbuiy),  tee  mf 
Memoir  of  R.  Greene,  prefixed  to  hii  Dramatic  Workt,  D'U- 
raeli's  Catamititi  qf  Julhnri,  vol.  Si.,  Sir  E.  Brydgei's  jlrcliaica, 
voL  ii.,  and  Collier'i  Bridgeualfr-Himtt  CalalogHr. 

'  imiimvt'}  i.  c  prove. 

•  hinBrout  Ihtfl]  At  p.  317  of  a  copy  of  lUuon'a  BibliagTa- 
phia  Potlka,  Malone  hu  appeoded  Ihe  following  MS.  note  to 
the  title  of  Samuel  RowUnda'i  Letting  of  hunouri  bland  in  Ihi 
hiad-taiv,  Sfc.  i  ••  Stolen  from  Naib'i  papers  after  hia  death 
in  1800.  SoiBjiT.Middlitoe."— What  the"  AumaKMiirAf/'f" 
was,  I  know  not)  t)ut  (he  expression  certainly  bu  net  the 


Thy  name  they  bury,  having  buried  ihee; 
Drones  eal  thy  honey — ihou  wert  the  true  bee.  * 

Peace  keep  thy  bouI  !     And  now  to  you,  bit  ant : 
On  with  your  prose,  be  neither  rude  nor  nice ; 

In  your  discourse  let  no  decorum  want, 
See  that  you  be  sententious  and  concise  ; 

And,  as  I  like  the  matter,  I  will  sing 

A  canzonet,  to  close  up  every  thing. 

With  this,  the  whole  nest  of  ants  hearing  ibek 
fellow  was  free  from  danger,  like  comforters  when 
care  is  over,  came  with  great  thanks  to  harmless 
Philomel,  and  made  a  ring  about  her  and  their 
restored  friend,  serving  instead  of  a  dull  audience 
of  stinkards  sitting  in  the  penny  -  galleries  of  a 
tlieatre,  and  yawning  upon  the  players  ;  whilst  the 
ant  began  to  stalk  like  a  three-quarter  sharer,*  and 
was  not  afraid  to  tell  tales  out  of  the  villanous 
school  of  the  world,  where  the  devil  is  the  school- 
master and  the  usurer  the  under-usher,  the  scholars 
young  dicing  landlords,  that  pass  away  three  hun- 
dred acres  with  three  dice  in  a  hand,  and  after  the 
decease  of  so  much  land  in  money  become  sons 
and  heirs  of  bawdy-houses  ;  for  it  is  an  easy  labour 
to  find  heirs  without  land,  but  a  hard  thing  indeed 
lo  find  land  without  heirs.  But  for  fear  1  interrupt 
this  small  actor  in  less  than  dechno  texto,^  1  leave, 
and  give  the  ant  leave  to  tell  his  tale. 


]  See  Dole,  vol.  \i.  p.  40li. 
fxprewion  frequi-nily  applied  by  our 
e  penonagci:  aee  M»i»inger'B  tt'arkt, 
and  B.  Junaon'i  Warkt,  vol.  ii.  p.  233 


FATHER  HDBBUKD  S  TALES. 


The  Ant's  Tale  when  he  tvai  a  ploughman. 

1  was  sometimes,  most  chaste  lady  Nightingale, 
or  rather,  queen  Philomel  the  ravished,  a  brow- 
ineiting  husbanJman:  to  be  man  and  husband  is 
to  be  a  poor  master  of  many  rich  carea,  which,  if  he 
cannot  subject  and  keep  under,  he  must  look  for 
ever  to  undergo  as  many  miseries  as  the  hours  of 
his  years  contain  minutes :  sueh  a  man  I  vras,  and 
such  a  husband,  for  I  was  linked  in  marriage :  my 
havings  were'  small  and  niy  means  less,  yet  charge 
came  on  me  ere  I  knew  how  lo  keep  it;  yet  did  I 
all  my  endeavours,  had  a  plough  attd  land  to  em- 
ploy it,  fertile  enough  if  it  were  manured,  and  for 
tillage  1  wa^  never  held  a  truant. 

But  my  destruction,  and  the  ruin  of  all  painful 
husbandmen  about  me,  began  by  ihe  prodigal  down- 
fal  of  my  young  landlord,  whose  father,  grandfather, 
and  great-grandfather,  for  many  generations  had 
been  lords  of  the  town  wherein  I  dwelt,  and  many 
other  towns  near  adjoining;  to  all  which  belonged 
fair  commons  for  the  comfort  of  the  poor,  liberty 
of  fishing,  help  of  fuel  by  bru&h  and  underwood 
never  denied,  till  the  old  devourer  of  virtue,  ho< 
nesty,  and  good  neighbourhood,  death,  had  made 
our  landlord  dance  afler  his  pipe,  —  which  is  so 
common,  that  every  one  knows  the  way,  though 
they  make  small  account  of  it.  Well,  die  he  did  ; 
and  as  soon  as  he  was  laid  in  his  grave,  the  bell 
might  well  have  tolled  for  hospitality  and  good 
housekeeping;  for  whether  they  fell  sick  with  him 
and  died,  and  so  were  buried,  I  know  not;  but  I 
am  sure  in  our  town  they  were  never  seen  since, 
nor,  that  I  can  hear  of,  in  any  other  part ;  eape* 


£64  rATi 

cially  about  us  ihey  are  Impossible  to  be  found. 
Well,  our  larillord  being  dead,  we  h«(l  his  heir, 
gentle  enough  and  fair'Conditianed,'*  lathct  pro- 
mising ai  first  his  father's  virtues  than  the  woHd's 
villanies;  but  be  was  so  accustomed  to  wild  and 
unfruitful  company  about  the  court  and  London 
(whither  he  nas  sent  by  Iiis  aober  father  to  prsc- 
lise  civility  and  manners),  that  in  the  country  he 
would  scarce  keep  till  liis  father's  body  ttaa  laid 
in  the  cold  enrth ;  but  as  soon  as  the  hasty  funeral 
waa  aolemnised,  from  us  he  posted,  discharging  all 
his  old  father's  servants  (whose  beards  were  even 
frost-bitten  with  age),  and  was  attended  only  fay  a 
monkey  and  a  marmoset ;  ^  the  one  being  an  ill- 
facedfellow,  as  variable  as  New-fangle'for  tashions; 
the  other  an  imitator  of  any  thing,  however  rillan- 
008,  but  utterly  deitiiuEe  of  all  goodness.  With 
this  French  page  and  Italianaie  serving-maR  was 
our  young  landlord  only  wailed  on,  and  all  to  save 
charges  in  servingmen,  to  pay  il  out  in  harlots: 
and  we  poor  men  had  news  of  a  far  greater  expense 
within  less  than  a  quarter.  For  we  were  sent  for  to 
London,  and  found  our  great  landlord  in  a  little 
room  about  the  Strand ;  who  lold  us,  thai  whereas 
we  had  lived  tenants  at  will,  and  might  in  his  fore- 
fathers' days  [have]  been  hourly  turned  out,  be, 
putting  on  a  better  conscience  to  usward,  intended 
to  make  us  leases  for  years ;  and  for  advice  'twixt 
him  and  us  he  had  made  choice  of  a  lawyer,  a 
mercer,  and  a  merchant,  to  whom  he  was  much  be- 


'  ti'iu/'Jaiigtr]  This  word  ii  prioled  in  both  ed*.  with  a 
upiul  Uller:  there  aeema  (o  be  Bome  alluiion,  «hich  I  am 
unable  to  cxplaia. 


P4THKR  OtTBBUBD  S  TALES. 


holding,''  who  thai  morning  were  appointed  to  meet 
in  the  Temple -church.  Temple  and  church,  both 
one  in  name,  made  us  hope  of  a  holy  meeting;  but 
there  lb  an  old  proverb.  The  nearer  the  church,  the 
Janher  from  God:  to  approve*  which  saying,  we 
met  the  mercer  and  the  merchant,  that,  loving  out 
landlord  or  his  land  well,  held  him  a  great  man 
in  both  their  books.  Some  little  conference  they 
had  :  what  the  conclusion  was,  we  poor  men  were 
not  yet  acquainted  with;  but  being  called  at  their 
leisure,  and  when  they  pleased  to  think  upon  us, 
told  US  they  were  to  dine  together  at  the  Horn  in 
Fleet-street,  being  a  house  where  their  lawyer  re- 
sorted ;  and  if  we  would  there  attend  them,  we 
should  understand  matter  much  for  our  good  :  and 
in  the  meonlime,  they  appointed  ua  near  the  old 
Temple-Garden  to  attend  their  counsellor,  whose 
name  was  master  Prospero,  not  the  great  rider  of 
horse,' — for  I  heard  there  was  once  such  a  one, — 
but  a  more  cunning  rider,  who  had  rid  many  men 
till  they  were  more  miserable  than  beasts,  and  our 
ill  hap  it  was  to  prove  his  hackneys,  ^^'ell,  though 
the  issue  were  ill,  on  we  went  to  await  his  worship, 
whose  chamber  we  found  that  morning  fuller  of 
clients  than  I  could  ever  see  suppliant!  to  heaven  in 
our  poor  parish -church,  and  yet  we  had  in  it  three 
hundred  households :  and  1  may  tell  it  vrith  rever- 
ence, 1  never  saw  more  submission  done  to  God 
than  to  that  great  lawyer;  every  suitor  there  of- 
fered  gold    to    this  gowned   idol,  standing   bare- 


i 


oMi„g]  See  note,  p.  313.  •  apprw.]  i.  e.  prove. 

frtat  rider  of  hwtt]  "  But  if  like  a  reitie  Jade  thou 
;e  the  bill  in  iby  mouth,  and  then  runne  oter  hedge 
ch.  thou  ihalt  Ik  broken  ai  Prosper  broke  hii  honec, 
muzzoule,"  &c      L;ly'>  Pappt  with  on  halchtt,  a.  A. 


headed  in  a  sharp-get  morning,  for  it  waa  in  booted  i^ 
MichaelmaB-ieTin,  and  not  a  word  spoke  to  him  but 
it  was  irith  the^  bowing  of  the  body  and  the  sub- 
missive flexure  or  the  knee.  Short  tale  to  make, 
lie  was  informed  of  ug  what  we  were,  and  of  our 
coming  up  ;  when  with  an  iron  look  and  shrill  voice, 
he  begnn  to  apeak  to  the  richest  of  our  number, 
ever  and  anon  yerkin^  out  the  word  ^tiei,  which 
served  instead  of  a  full-point  to  every  sentence. 

But  that  word^nff  was  no  fine  word,  tnetbought, 
lo  please  poor  labouring  husbandmen,  that  can 
scarce  sweat  out  so  much  in  a  twelvemonth  as  he 
would  demand  in  a  [winkling.  At  last,  to  close  up 
the  lamentable  tragedy  of  us  ploughmen,  enters  our 
young  landlord,  so  metamorphosed  into  the  ihape 
of  a  French  puppet,  that  at  the  first  we  started,  and 
thought  one  of  the  baboons  had  marched  in  in  man's 
apparel.  His  head  was  dressed  up  in  white  feathers 
like  a  shuttlecock,  which  agreed  so  well  with  his 
brain,  being  nothing  but  cork,  ihat  two  of  the 
biggest  of  the  guard  might  very  easily  have  tossed 
him  with  battledores,  and  made  good  sport  with 
him  in  his  majesty's  great  hall.  His  doublet  was 
of  a  strange  cut;  and  to  shew  the  fury  of  his 
humour,  the  collar  of  it  rose  up  so  high  and  sharp 
as  if  it  would  have  cut  his  throat  by  daylight.  His 
wings,'  according  to  the  fashion  now,  wereJ  aa  little 
and  diminutive  as  a  puritan's  ruff,  which  shewed 
he  ne'er  meant  to  fly  out  of  England,  nor  do  any 
exploit  beyond  sea,  but  live  and  ciie  about  London, 
though  he  begged  in  Finsbury.     His  breeches,  a 

'  botltd']   Id  allusion  to  ihc  drpss  of  the  viriout  persom 


VATBEK  BUBBUKDS  TALES. 

wonder  to  see,  were  full  as  deep  at  the  middle  of 
winter,  or  ihe  roadway  between  London  and  Win- 
chester, and  so  large  and  wide  withal,  that  I  think 
within  a  twelvemonth  he  might  very  well  put  all 
his  lands  in  them  ;  and  then  you  may  imagine  they 
were  big  enough,  when  they  would  outreach  a  thou- 
sand acres :  moreover,  they  differed  so  far  from 
our  fashioned  hose**  in  the  country,  and  from  his 
father's  old  gascoynes,'  that  his  back-part  seemed 
to  us  like  a  monster  ;  the  roll  of  the  breeches  stand- 
ing so  low,  ihat  we  conjectured  his  house  of  office, 
sir-reverence,™  stood  in  his  hams.  All  this  while 
his  French  monkey  bore  his  cloak  of  three  pounds 
a-yard,  lined  clean  through  with  purple  velvet, 
which  did  so  dazzle  our  coarse  eyes,  that  we 
thought  we  should  have  been  purblind  ever  af^er, 
what  with  the  prodigal  aspect  of  that  and  his  glo- 
rious rapier  and  hangers"  all  host"  with  pillars 
of  gold,  fairer  in  show  than  the  pillars  in  Paul's 
or  the  tombs  at  Westminster;  beside,  it  drunk  up 
the  price  of  all  my  plough-land  in  very  pearl, 
which  stuck  as  thick  upon  those  hangers  as  the 
white  measles  upon  hog's  flesh.  When  1  had  well 
viewed  that  gay  gaudy  cloak  and  those  unthrifty 
wasteful  hangers,  I  muttered  thus  to  myself:  That 
is  no  cloak  for  the  rain,  sure  ;  nor  those  no  hangers 
fot  Derrick;''  when  of  a  sudden,  casting  mine  eyes 
lower,  1  beheld  a  curious  pair  of  boots  of  king 
Philip'si  leather,  in  such  artificial  wrinkles,  sets, 

'  hmr]  i.  e.  breeches. 

'  faiCDunei]  i-  e.  ^lligaakins. 

-  ,ir-rcBtrf<a]  See  nole,  vol.  ji.  p.  173. 

•  *o«er»]  See  note,  vol,  ii.  p.  227. 

°  ftDfl]  ■■  e.  emboited. 

'  Dirmk]  See  note,  p.  filS. 

t  king  Philtp-t]  l  e.  SpiQutL 


SS8  FATBEIt  ntmBDKD's  TALES. 

and  plaits,  aa  if  they  htid  been  starched  lately  and 
came  nen  froni  itic  laundresi's,  such  was  my  igno- 
rance and  simple  acquaintance  with  the  fashion, 
and  1  dare  ttwear  my  fcllons  and  neighbours  here 
are  all  as  i^orant  as  myself.  But  thai  which  struck 
us  most  into  admiration,  upon  tliose  fantastical  boots 
stood  such  huge  and  wide  tops,  which  so  swallowed 
up  his  thighs,  that  had  he  sworn,  as  other  gallants 
did,  this  common  oath.  Would  I  might  sink  as  1 
Bland !  all  his  body  might  very  well  have  sunk 
down  and  been  damned  in  his  boots.  Lastly,  be 
walked  the  chamber  with  such  a  pestilent  gingle,'' 
that  his  spurs  over-squeaked  the  lawyer,  and  made 
him  reach  his  voice  three  notes  above  his  fee  ;  but 
after  we  had  spied  the  roweli  of  his  spurs,  hon  we 
blest  ourselveB !  they  did  bo  much  and  ao  far  exceed 
the  compass  of  our  fashion,  that  they  looked  more 
like  the  forernnners  of  wheelbarrows.  Thus  was 
our  young  landlord  accoutred  in  such  a  strange  and 
prodigal  shape,''  that  it  amounted  to  above  two 
years'  rent  in  apparel.  At  last  approached'  the 
mercer  and  the  merchant,  two  notable  arch-trades- 
men.  who  had  fitted  ray  young  master  in  clothes, 
whilst  they  had  clothed  themselves  in  his  acres,  and 
measured  him  out  velvet  by  the  thumb,  whilst  they 
received  his  revenues  by  handfuls;  for  he  had  not 
so  many  yards  in  his  suit  aa  they  had  yards  and 
houses  bound  for  the  payment,  which  now  he  wu 
forced  to  pass  over  to  them,  or  else  all  his  lands 
should  be  put  to'  their  book  and  to  their  forfeiting 

1  giaglt]  Cauaod  by  the  iuge  looie  rowel*,  vhich  are  pre- 
sently  mentioned  :  tbey  were  commouI<r  of  ailver. 
'  (Aofw]  i.  e,  dreu. 

'  approaclied}  So  Hnl  ed.     Sec.  Bd.  "  appriMch." 
^  put  lo]  Ed>,  "leput." 


th. 


'  so  my  youngster  was  now  at  his  p 
:e  a  gentleman -pensioner,   but  liki 
pender.      Whereupon  entered 
royal    scrivener,    with    di 


writings  hanged,  drawn,  and  quartered  for  the 
pose:  he  was  a  valiant  scribe,  I  remember ;  his  pen 
lay  mounted  between  bis  ear  like  a  Tower-gun,  but 
not  charged  yet  till  our  young  master's  patrimony 
shot  off,  which  waa  some  third  part  of  an  hour 
after.  By  this  time,  the  lawyer,  the  mercer,  and 
the  merchant,  were  whispering  and  consulting  to- 
gether about  the  writings  and  passage  of  the  land 
in  very  deep  and  sober  conference ;  bui  our  wiseacres 
all  the  while,  as  one  regardless  of  either  land  or 
money,  not  hearkening  or  inquisitive  afler  their 
subtle  and  politic  devices,  held  himself  very  busy 
about  the  burning  of  his  tobacco-pipe  (as  there  is 
no  gallant  hut  hath  a  pipe  to  burn  about  London), 
though  we  poor  simple  men  never  heard  of  the 
name  till  that  time;  and  he  might  very  fitly  take 
tobacco  there,  for  the  lawyer  and  the  rest  made 
him  smoke  already.  But  to  have  noted  the  apish 
humour  of  him,  and  the  fantastical  faces  he  coined 
in  the  receiving  of  the  smoke,  it  would  have  made 
your  ladyship  have  sung  nothing  but  merry  jigs' 


for 


mth   after, 


;   the 


pipe  like  a  horn  at  the  Pie-corner  of  his  mouth, 
which    must  needs   make   him   look    like   a  bow-._ 
gelder,"  and  another   lime   screwing   his   face  like 
one  of  our  country  players,  which  must  needs  make 
hira  look  like  a  fool ;  nny,  he  had  at  least  his  dozen 

■-«*-r«-«]Seenote,p.  I2e. 

'jig.-i  i.e.  b.ll.di. 

*  likt  a  tow-gtidir}  •'  Hark,  faon  ny  merry  horn  doth  blow," 
is  portof  Higgcn'i  vtog,  nlicn  he  enters  "  like  asow-geldiT:*' 
see  Beaumoiit  and  Fleccber's  Btggatt'  Buih,  bcI  iii.  ic.  1. 


570 


FAIHEK  ltUBCrRD'&  TAlSa. 


of  faces,  but  never  a  good  one  araongii  them  all ; 
neither  his  father's  face,  nor  the  face  of  his  grand- 
father, but  yet  more  nicked  and  riotous  faces  than 
all  the  generation  of  him.  Now  their  privy  whis- 
perings and  vilbnous  plots  began  to  be  drawn  tn 
a  conclusion,  when  presently  they  called  our  smoky 
landlord  in  the  midst  of  his  araughl,  who  in  a  valiant 
humour  dashed  his  tobacco-pipe  into  the  chimney- 
corner  :  whereat  I  started,  and  beckoning  his  mar- 
moset' to  me,  asked  him  if  those  long  white  things 
did  cost  no  money  ?  to  which  ihe  slave  replied  very 
proudly.  Money !  yes,  sirrah ;  but  I  tell  thee,  my 
master  scorns  (o  have  a  thing  come  twice  to  his 
mouth.  Then,  quoth  I,  I  think  thy  master  is  more 
choice  in  his  mouth  than  in  any  member  else ;  it  were 
good  jfhe  used  that  all  his  body  over,  be  would  ocver 
have  need,  as  many  gallants  have,  of  any  sweating 
pliysic.  Sweating  physic!  replied  the  marmoset i 
what  may  thy  meaning  be  ?  why,  do  not  you  plough- 
men sweat  too?  Yes,  quoth  I.  most  of  any  men 
living;  but  yet  there  is  a  difference  between  the 
sweat  of  a  ploughman  and  the  sweat  of  a  gentle- 
man, as  much  as  between  your  master's  apparel 
and  mine,  for  when  we  sweat,  the  land  prospers, 
and  the  harvest  comes  in ;  hut  when  a  gentleman 
sweats,  I  wot  how  the  gear''  goes  then.  No  sooner 
were  these  words  spoken  but  the  marmoset  had 
drawn  out  his  poniard  half-way  to  make  a  show  of 
revenge,  but  at  the  smart  voice  of  the  lawyer  he 
suddenly  whipt  it  in  again.  Now  was  our  young 
master  with  one  penful  of  ink  doing  a  far  greater 
exploit  than  all  his  forefathers  ;  for  what  they  were 
n-purchasing  all  their  lifetime,  he  was  now  passing 


FATHER  HUBBUKD'S  TALES.  571 

away  in  tlie  fourth  part  of  a  minute ;  and  that 
which  many  (housand  drops  of  his  grandfather's 
brows  did  painfully  strive  for,  one  drop  now  of  a 
scrivener's  inkhorn  did  easily  pass  over :  a  dash  of  a 
pen  stood  for  a  thousand  acres :  how  quickly  they 
were  dashed  in  the  mouth  by  our  young  landlord's 
prodigal  fist '.  it  seemed  he  made  no  more  account 
of  acres  than  of  acorns.  Then  were  we  called  to 
set  our  hands  for  witnesses  of  his  folly,  wliich  we 
poor  men  did  witness  too  much  already ;  and  be- 
cause we  were  found  ignorant  in  writing,  and  never 
practised  in  that  black  art — which  I  might  very 
fitly  term  so,  because  it  conjured  our  young  master 
out  of  all — we  were  commanded,  as  it  were,  to  draw 
any  mark  with  a  pen,  which  should  signify  as  much 
iis  the  best  hand  that  ever  old  Peter  Bales'  hung 
out  in  the  Old  Bailey.  To  conclude,  I  look  the 
pen  first  of  the  lawyer,  and  turning  it  arsy-versy, 
like  no  instrument  for  a  ploughman,  our  youngster 
and  the  rest  of  the  faction  burst  into  laughter  at 
the  simplicity  of  my  fingering;  but  I,  not  so  simple 
aa  ihey  laughed  me  for,  drew  the  picture  of  a 
knavish  emblem,  which  was  a  plough  with  the 
heels  upward,  signifying  thereby  that  the  world 
was  turned  upside  down  since  the  decease  of  my 
old  landlord,  all  hospitality  and  good  housekeeping 
kicked  out  of  doors,  all  thriAinesa  and  good  hus- 
bandry  tossed    into  the  air,   ploughs  turned  into 

■  Ptitr  Balii']  A  particular  account  of  ihii  perion  may  be 
found  in  Wood's  ^thnx  Ojoh.  vol.  i.  p.  6B5,  rd.  BliH,  and  in 
Chalmeri'i  Bieg.  Diet.  I  need  anijr  itale  thai  be  *aa  un- 
rivalled, during  hia  day,  in  the  * arioui  hranchea  of  the  an  of 
penmanihip,  (occoiionally  producing  ■pecimeni  of  cxlraor- 
iliaary  minutenen) ;  ihai  in  1S90,  trhea  he  published  hia 
n'riling  Sf/ialimultr,  he  kept  a  Bcliool  litusted  at  the  upper 
end  of  the  Old  Uailej' ;  nod  chat  he  is  auppoied  to  hive  died 
about  1010. 


572  FATUER  bi'bbubd's  tales. 

trunks,'  and  corn  into  apparel.  Tlien  came  another 
of  our  husbandmen  to  sec  his  mark  by  mine;  he 
holding  the  pen  clean  at  the  one  tide  towards  the 
merchant  and  the  mercer,  shewing  that  all  went 
on  their  tides,  drew  the  form  of  an  unbridled  colt, 
KO  wild  and  unruly,  that  he  seemed  with  one  fool 
to  kick  up  ihe  earth  and  spoil  the  labours  of  many 
toiling  beasts,  which  was  filly  alluded  to  our  wild 
and  unbridled  landlord,  which,  like  the  coit,  could 
stand  upon  no  ground  till  he  had  no  ground  to 
stand  upon. 

These  marks,  set  down  under  ibe  sbapc  of  sim- 
plicity, were  the  less  marked  with  the  eyes  of 
knavery ;  for  ihey  little  dreamed  that  we  plough- 
men could  have  so  much  satire  in  us  as  to  bit«  our 
young  landlord  by  the  elbow.  Well,  this  ended, 
master  Buraebell,  the  calves'- skin  scrivener,  was 
royally  handled,  that  is,  he  had  a  royal"  put  in  his 
band  by  the  merchant.  And  now  I  talk  of  calves'- 
skin.  'tis  great  pity,  lady  Nightingale,  that  the  skins 
of  harmless  and  innocent  beasts  should  be  as  in- 
atrumetits  to  work  villany  upon,  entangling  young 
novices  and  foolish  elder  brothers,  which  are  caught 
like  woodcocks  in  the  net  of  the  law ;  for''  'tis  easier 
for  one  of  the  greatest  fowls  to  slide  through  the 
least  hole  of  a  net,  than  one  of  the  least  fools  to 
get  from  the  lappet  of  a  bond.  By  this  time  the 
squeaking  lawyer  began  to  re-iterate  that  cold  word 
jinet,  which  struck  so  chill  to  our  hearts,  that  it 
[  made  them  as  cold  as  our  heels,  which  were  almost 
frozen  to  the  floor  with  standing.  Yea,  quolh  the 
merchant  and  the  mercer,  you  are  now  tenanls  of 

irunki]  i.  e.,   1  tupiioK,   trunk-boH,  —  round   swelling 


El   HUBBURD  S  TALES. 


578 


oun ;  all  the  right,  title,  and  interest  of  this  young 
gentleman,  your  late  landlord,  we  are  firmly  pos- 
sessed of,  as  you  yourselves  are  witnesses  :  where- 
fore this  is  the  conclusion  of  our  meeting  ;  such 
fines  as  master  Prospero  here,  by  the  valuation  of 
the  land,  shall,  out  of  his  proper  judgment,  allot  to 
us,  such  are  we  to  demand  at  your  hands ;  there- 
fore ne  refer  you  to  him,  to  wait  his  answer  at  the 
gentleman's  best  time  and  leisure.  With  thai,  they 
stifHed  two  or  three  angels'^  in  the  lawyer's  right 
hand; — right  hand,  said  I  ?  which  hand  was  that, 
trow  ye?  for  it  is  impossible  to  know  which  is  the 
right  hand  of  a  lawyer,  because  there  are  but  few 
lawyers  that  have  right  hands,  and  those  few  make 
much  of  them.  So,  taking  their  leaves  of  my  young 
landlord  that  was,  and  that  never  shall  be  again, 
away  they  marched,  heavier  by  a  thousand  acres  at 
their  parting  than  they  were  before  at  their  meeting. 
The  lawyer  then,  turning  his  Irish  face  to  usward, 
willed  us  to  attend  his  worship  the  next  term,  when 
we  should  further  understand  his  pleasure.  We, 
poor  souls,  thanked  his  worship,  and  paid  him  his 
fee  out  in  legs;**  when,  in  sight  of  us,  he  embraced 
our  young  gentleman  (I  think,  for  a  fool),  and  gave 
him  many  riotous  instructions  how  to  carry  him- 
aelf,  which  he  was  prompter  to  take  than  the  other 
to  put  into  him ;  told  him  he  must  acquaint  himself 
with  many  gallants  of  the  Inns-of-Courl,  and  keep 
rank  with  those  that  spend  most,  always  wearing  a 
bountiful  disposition  about  him,  lofty  and  liberal ; 
his  lodging  must  be  about  the  Strand  in  any  ease, 
being  remote  from  the  handicraft  scent  of  the  city; 
in  some  famous  tavern,  as  the 


eating  mus 
a»sihi  See  n 


I,  p.  20. 


-"P] 


5T4 


FATHER  IIVDDtlKD  a  TALES. 


Horn,  the  Mitre,  or  the  Mermaid  ;*  and  tlien  after 
dinner  he  must  venture  beyond  sea,  (hat  is,  in  a 
choice  pair  of  noblemen 'a  oars,  to  the  Bankside,' 
where  he  mutt  sit  out  the  breaking-u[)*ora<:ome<)y, 
or  the  first  cut  of  a  tragedy;  or  rather,  if  his  hu- 
mour so  serve  him,  lo  call  in  at  the  Blackfriars," 
where  he  should  see  a  nest  of  boys  able  to  ravish 
a  man.  This  said,  our  youns  goose-cap,  nho  wai 
rendy  to  embrace  such  counsel,  thanked  him  for  hif 
fatherly  admonitions,  as  he  termed  them,  and  lold 
him  again  that  he  should  not  find  him  with  the 
breach  of  any  of  them,  swearing  and  protesting  he 
would  keep  all  those  better  than  the  ten  command* 
menis :  at  which  word  lie  buckled  on  his  rapier  and 
hangers,'  his  monkey-face  casting  on  his  cloak  by 
the  book ;  after  an  apish  congee  or  two,  passed 
down  stairs,  without  either  word  or  nod  to  us  his 
old  father's  tenants.  Nevertheless  we  followed 
him,  like  so  many  russet  servtngmen,  to  see  the 
event  of  all,  and  what  the  issue  would  come  to; 
when,  of  a  sudden,  he  was  encountered  by  a  most 
glorious -spangled  gallant,  which  we  took  at  first  to 
have  been  some  upstart  tailor,  because  he  measured 
all  his  body  with  a  salutation,  from  the  tlow  of  the 

•  thi  Horn,  (*f  Milrt,  or  Ihi  Mermaid']  The  first  of  tKrie 
h>i  beta  already  mcDlioned  in  Iliia  iracl.  see  p.  SAS;  tlic 
Mitre  wai  in  Bread-ftreet,  Cheipiide  ;  the  Mennaiil  in  Corn- 
hill  :  *ee  note*,  rol.  li.  p.  340. 

'  llii  BankiltU]  In  Sauthwuk,  where  the  Globe  and  ether 
IheatrcB  wen  iitualed. 

(  brta/iiiig-  up]  i.  r.  csTfing. 

'  llu  Blaelijnari]  The  theatre  so  named,  which  stood  Dear 
the  preacDC  Apathecariei'  Hall,  and  nhich  was  occasionally 
occupied  by  the  Children  of  the  Reveli  (a  aul  of  boy):  ttt 
Colliera  Hhl.  <^  Engl.  Dram.  Fotlry,  voL  iii.  p.  275. 

'  kangtri}  See  note,  vol.  ii.  p.  Til. 


n  IIUEBDKDS  TALES. 

doublet  to  the  fall  of  the  breeches  ;  but  at  last  we 
found  him  to  be  a  very  fantastical  sponge,  that 
licked  up  all  humoura,  the  very  npe  of  faahio 
gesture,  and  compliment, — one  of  those  indeed,  as 
we  learned  afterward,  that  fed  upon  young  land- 
lords, rioiouB  sons  and  heirs,  till  either  he  or  the 
Counter  in  Wood-street  had  swallowed  them  up; 
and  would  not  stick  to  be  a  bawd  or  pander  to  such 
young  gallants  as  our  young  gentleman,  either  to 
acquaint  them  with  harlots,  or  harlots  with  them; 
to  bring  them  a  whole  dozen  of  taffeta  pimks  at  a 
supper,  and  they  should  be  none  of  these  common 
Molls  neither,  but  discontented  end  unfortunate 
gentlewomen,  whose  parents  being  lately  deceased, 
the  brother  ran  away  with  all  the  land,  and  they,'' 
poor  squalls,'  with  s  little  money,  which  cannot  hold 
out  long  without  Home  comings  in  ;  but  they  will 
rather  venture  a  maidenhead  than  want  a  head-tire; 
such  shuttlecocks  as  these,  which,  though  they  are 
tossed  and  played  withal,  go  still*"  like  niHids,  all 
white  on  the  lop :  or  else,  decayed  gentlemen's 
wives,  whose  husbands,  poor  souls,  lying  for  debt 
in  the  King's  Bench,  ihey  go  about  lo  make  mon- 
sters in  the  King's-Hcad  tavern ;  for  this  is  a  general 

'  (iejl]  Bo  fir>t  ed.    Sec.  ed.  "  the." 

'  jjMoiij]  Equivalent  liere.  it  would  Mem,  lo  —  wenchea: 
vide  note,  vol.  iii.  p.  5S,    Taylor,  the  wsler-poet,  luea  the  word 
ti  a  term  of  endearment : 
"  The  rich  Gull  Callanl  calla  her  Deare  and  Loue. 

Dueke,  Lambe,  Squall,  Soeel-bearl.  Cony,  and  hii  Doue." 
jt  Whore,  p.  112— »Vt«,  1630. 
■nd  Kerope  aa  ■  leria  of  leproach ;  "  Swearing  it  did  him 
good  to  haue  ill  words  of  a  hoddy  doddy,  o  babber  de  hoy,  a 
chicken,  a  aquib,  n  iijuoZI."  Ifumbli  Stqueil,  Sic,  appended 
to  Wk  NUt  dairi  n-omlcr.  1600. 

■>  tliiq  So  ant  ed.     Not  in  lec.  ed. 


axiom,  all  your  luxurious"  plots  are  always  begm 
in  taverns,  lo  be  ended  in  vau[l]ung-house8;*  and 
after  supper,  when  fruit  comes  in,  there  is  small 
fruit  of  lioneity  to  be  looked  for, — for  you  koow 
that  the  eating  of  die  apple  alcays  betokens  the 
iall  of  Eve.  Our  prodigal  child,  accompanied 
with  this  soaking  swaggerer  and  admirable  cheater, 
who  had  Bupt  up  most  of  our  heirs  about  London 
like  poached  eggs,  slips  into  White-FTiari'nunnery,'' 
whereas"  the  report  went  he  kept  hia  most  deli- 
cate drab  of  three  hundred  a-year,  some  unthril^y 
gcntlemsn's  daughter,  who  had  mortgaged  his  land 
to  scriveners,  sure  enough  from  redeeming  again ; 
for  so  much  she  seemed  by  her  bringing  up,  though 
less  by  her  casting  down.  Endued  she  was,  as  ne 
heard,  witli  some  good  qualities,  though  all  wrre 
converted  then  but  to  llattering  viUaniea  :  she  could 
run  upon  the  lute  very  well,  which  in  others  would 
have  appeared  virtuous,  but  in  her  lascivious,  foi 
her  running  was  rather  jested  at,  because  she  was 
a  light  runner  besides  :  she  had  likewise  the  gift  of 
singing  very  deliciously.  able  to  charm  the  hearer ; 
which  so  bewit(?he(l  away  our  young  master's  money, 
thai  he  might  have  kept  seven  noise'  of  musicians 
for  less  charges,  and  yet  they  would  have  stood  for 


ImiftiL 
'AwKi]  1.  e.  brotbcls. 
iilt-Friari-  ■■.nirj]  Compare  {ece  note,  p.  514)  our 
■t  Oanidf  Cirii.- 

'«  IVoni  his  daughter  Blanth  and  dau^ter  Bridget, 
their  iiTe  isqcIiut}  in  the  Whiie-l'riani 


«  »DBBU11DS  TALES. 


senringmen  too,  having  blue  coats''  of  iheir  own. 
She  had  a  humour  lo  liap  often,  like  a  flactering 
wanton,  and  talk  childish,  like  a  parson's  daughter; 
which  9o  pleased  and  rapt  our  old  landlord's  lickerish 
?on,  that  he  would  swear  she  spake  nothing  but 
an'eetmeats,  and  her  breath  then  sent  forth  such 
a  delicious  odour,  that  it  perfumed  his  white-satin 
doublet  better  than  sixteen  milliners.  Well,  there 
we  left  him,  with  his  devouring  cheater  and  his 
glorious  cockatrice;'  and  being  almost  upon  din- 
ner-time, we  hied  us  and  took  our  repast  at  thrifty 
mother  Walker's,  where  we  found  a  whole  nest  of 
pinching  bachelors,  crowded  together  upon  forms 
and  benches,  in  that  most  worshipful  three-half- 
penny ordinary, 'where  presently  they  were  boarded" 
with  hot  monsieur  Multon-and- porridge  (a  French- 
man by  his  blowing);  and  next  to  them  we  were 
served  in  order,  every  one  taking  their  degree: 
and  I  tell  you  true,  lady,  I  have  known  the  lime 
when  our  young  landlord's  father  hath  been  a 
ihrec-baifpenny  eater  there, — ^nay  more,  was  the 
first  that  acquainted  us  with  that  sparing  and 
thrifly  ordinary,  when  his  riotous  son  hath  since 
spent  his  five  pound  at  a  titling.    Well,  having  dis- 


charged  our  s 

respect  of  ov 

rying  these 

oppressions  I 
fines.     And, 

mall  shot  (which  was  like  hail-shot  in 
r  young  master's  cannon- reckonings 
e  plodded  home  to  our  ploughs,  car- 

eavy  news  to  our  wives  both  of  the 
our  old  landlord's  son,  as  also  of  our 
o  come  by  the  burden  of  uncharitable 
most  musical  madam  Nightingale,  do 

but  imagine  r 

ow  what  a  sad  Cliristmaa  we  all  kept 

*  eoeiatriei 

Seeoole,  |i.  10<). 

A  c.n.  le™  for  a  harlot. 

S78 


FATREB  HDBBUKDS  TALKS. 


in  the  country,  without  either  carols,  wassail -bowls," 
dancing  ol'Sellenger's  round'  in  moonshine  nights 
about  May-poles,  shoeing  the  mare,  hood  man -blind, 
hot-cocklei,  or  any  of  otir  old  Christmas  gambols; 
no,  not  so  much  as  choosing  king  and  queen  on 
twelfth  night:  such  was  the  dulness  of  our  plea- 
sures,— for  that  one  word  fines  robbed  ua  of  all 
OUT  fine  pastimes. 

This  sour-faced  Christmas  thus  unpleasantly  past 
ovtr,  up  again  we  trotted  to  London,  in  a  great  frost, 
I  remember,  for  the  ground  was  as  hard  as  the  law- 
yer's conscience ;  and  arriving  at  the  luxuriousSlrand 
•ome  three  days  before  the  term,  we  inquired  for 
our  bountiful  landlord,  or  the  fool  in  the  full,  at 
his  neat  and  curious  lodging ;  but  answer  was 
made  us  by  an  old  chamber-maid,  thai  onr  gentle- 
man slept  not  there  all  the  Christmas  tiroe,  but 
had  been  at  court,  and  at  least  in  five  masques ; 
marry,  now,  as  she  thought,  we  might  find  him  at 
master  Poops  his  ordinary,  with   half-a-doien  of 

fallanls  more  at  dice.  At  dice?  at  the  devil!  quoth 
,  for  that  is  a  dicer's  last  throw.  Here  I  began  to 
Mul,  like  Thomas  Nash"  agninst  Gabriel  Harvey, 
if  you  call  that  railing;  yet  1  think  it  was  but  the 
lunning  a  lilt  of  wits  in  booksellers'  shops  on  both 
1  udes  of  John  of  Paul's' churchyard  ;  and  I  wonder 
'   how  John  scaped  unhorsing.     But  when  we  were 

■  iHuiail-tBU-li  .  .  .  lllnting  tht  more]  Compare  Tkt  Imt 
Timpit  AfsifHi,  p,  143  of  (his  to). 

'  Stllengtr'i  nwiiil]  "  i.  t.  St.  Lcger's  round  .  .  .  was  an 
old  country- dancs,  and  was  nut  quiie  out  of  knoHled^re  bI  ihi 
be^nDJng  of  (he  pm«nl  century,  lliere  beia);  penoiii  mm 
living  who  Teinembet  iL"  Sir  J.  Hawkins's  JIUr.  ef  iiaiit, 
vol.  iii.  p.  3S8,  where  the  notes  of  it  are  given  from  >  toI- 
leolion  afcounlry.dsDcea  published  by  PU^ford  in  1679. 

-  Uk,  Thttmut  Ka,h,  St.]  Sre  nole.  p.  ifll. 

>  Jehn  o/Puk/'j]  See  Dole,  p.  SSS. 


FATHER  HDBBURD  B  TALES. 


579 


entered  the  door  of  the  ordinary,  we  might  hear 
our  lusty  gentleman  shoot  offa  volley  of  oaths  some 
three  rooms  over  us,  cursing  the  dice,  and  nishing 
the  pox  were  in  their  bones,  crying  out  for  a  new 
pair  ofsquare  ones,  for  the  other  belike  had  cogged* 
with  him  and  made  a  gull  of  him.  When  the  host 
of  the  ordinary  coming  down  stairs  met  us  with 
this  report,  afVer  we  had  named  him,  Troth,  good 
fellows,  you  have  named  now  the  most  unforlu- 
nateat  gentleman  living,  at  passage*  I  mean;  for  I 
protest  I  have  stood  by  myself  as  a  heavy  eye-wit- 
ness, and  seen  the  beheading  of  five  hundred  crowns, 
and  what  pitiful  end  they  alt  made.  With  that  he 
shewed  us  his  cmbost  girdle  and  hangers*  new- 
pawned  for  more  money,  and  told  us  beside,  not 
without  tears,  his  glorious  cloak  was  cast  away 
three  hours  before  overboard,  which  was,  offthe  table. 
At  which  lamentable  hearing,  we  stood  still  in  the 
lower  room,  and  durst  not  venture  up  stairs,  for 
fear  he  would  have  laid  all  us  ploughmen  to  pawn 
too ;  and  yet  1  think  all  we  could  scarce  have  made 
up  one  throw.  But  to  draw  to  an  end,  as  his  patri- 
mony did,  we  had  not  lingered  the  belter  part  of 
an  hour,  hut  down  came  fencing''  his  glittering 
rapier  and  dagger,  as  if  he  had  been  newly  shoulder- 
clapt  by  a  pewter- but  toned  sergeant  and  his  wea- 
pons seized  upon.  At  last,  after  a  great  peal  of 
oaths  on  all  sides,  the  court  broke  up,  and  the  wor- 


Zflftonr'i    Jo,  -     - 


in  occurs  in  Shakeipeare'i  Loit'M 
■•  since  you  can  cog,  i'll  piny  no  more  wiih 
S  i  where  Johnion  remorltB,  '•  To  cag  lignifiea 
ice,  and  to  Jaltifg  a  norratire  or  to  lit  [or  la 


'  hangcri]  See  Hole,  vol.  ii.  p 
0  d«™  cam.  finciog}  Qy-  "  ■ 
e  what  precedes  and  folloiri. 


n  cone  the  hou  fiHcng"  1 


SSO  rATi 

^tiiprul  bene))  of  dJcera  came  tlmnilermg  down  Btaiis, 
•omc  aweoriiig,  some  Uughing,  BOme  carsing,  and 
some  singing,  wiih  such  a  confusion  of  hamoura, 
that  tind  we  not"  knowu  before  what  nnk  of  gal- 
lants ilicy  vr«re,  we  sboulil  liave  iltought  the  devilt 
liBtl  been  at  dice  in  an  ordinary.  The  tirst  diat 
appeared  to  us  was  our  mosl  lamentable  landlord, 
dresBtd  up  in  his  monkey's  livery-cloak,  thai  hr 
seemed  now  rather  to  wait  upon  his  monkey  ihsn 
tiis  monkey  upon  him,  whicli  did  set  forUt  his  satin 
suit  ao  excellent  scurvily,  that  he  looked  for  all 
the  world  like  a  French  lord  in  dirty  booia.  When 
casting  his  eye  upon  us,  being  desirous,  as  it 
seemed,  to  remember  us  now  if  we  had  any  money, 
brake  ioto  these  fantastical  speeches :  What,  my 
whole  warren  of  tenants  ? —  thinking  indeed  to  make 
conies'^  of  us,  —  ray  honest  nest  of  ploughmen,  the 
only  kings  of  Kent!  More  dice,  ho.'  i 'faith,'' lei's 
have  another  career,  and  vomit  three  dice  in  s 
liand  again.  With  that  I  plucked  his  humour  at 
one  side,  and  told  him  we  were  indeed  his  father'^ 
lennnts,  but  his  we  were  sorry  we  were  not ;  and 
■a  for  money  to  maintain  his  dice,  we  bad  not  suf- 
ficient to  stulTout  the  lawyer.  Then  replied  out 
gallant  in  a  rage,  tossing  out  two  or  three  oew- 
minied  onilis,  'I'hese  ploughmen  are  politicians,  1 
think;  they  have  wit,  the  whorsons;  they  will  be 
tenants,  I  perceive,  longer  than  we  shall  be  land- 
lords, .^nd  fain  be  would  have  swaggered  with  us, 
but  that  his  weapons  were  at  pawn :  so,  marching 
out  like  a  turned  gentleman,  the  rest  of  the  gallants 
seemed  (o  cashier  him,  and  throw  him  out  of  their 
company  like  a  blank  die — the  one  having  no  black 

''  ua/]  So  lint  ed.     Not  in  lec  ed. 

'  cuniVi]  L  e.  rabbit! — dupei:  ih  Date,  vol.  L  p.  3W. 

*  f faith]  First  ed.  "  than  j/faUk." 


I 


FATHER  HVSBORS'S  TALES.  5B1 

peeps,"  nor  he  no  white  pieces.  Now  waa  our 
gallant  the  true  picture  of  the  prodigal ;  anil  having 
no  rents  to  gather  now,  he  gathered  his  wits  about 
him,  making  his  brain  pay  him  revenues  in  villany  ; 
for  it  is  a  general  observation,  that  your  sons  tuid 
heirs  prove  seldom  wise  men  till  they  have  no  more 
land  tlian  the  compass  of  their  noddles.  To  con- 
clude, within  fen  days'  practice  he  was  grown  as* 
absolute  in  cheating,  and  as  exquisite  in  pandarism, 
that  he  outstripped  all  Greene's  books'  Of  Ike  Art 
of  Cony-catching ;  and  where  *  before  he  maintained 
his  drab,  he  made  his  drab  now  maintain  him  ; 
proved  the  only  true  captain  of  vaulting-houses,'' 
and  the  valiant  champion  against  constables  and 
searchers;  feeding  upon  the  sin  of  Whiie-Friars, 
Pict-hatch,  and  TurnboU  Street.'  Nay,  there  was 
no  landed  novice  now  but  he  could  melt  bira  away 
into  nothing,  and  in  one  twelvemonth  make  him  hold 
all  his  land  between  his  legs,  and  yet  but  straddle 
easily  neither  ;  no  wealthy  son  of  the  city  but  within 
less  than  a  quarter  he  could  make  all  his  stock  not 
worth  a  Jersey  stocking:  he  was  all  that  might  be 
in  dissolute  villany,  and  nothing  that  should  be  in 
his  forefathers'  honesty.  To  speak  troth,  we  did 
so  much  blush  at  bis  life,  and  were  so  asliamed  of 
his  base  courses,  that  ever  after  we  loathed  to  look 
al\er  them.  But  returning  to  our  stubble- haired 
lawyer,  who  reaped  his  beard  every  term-time  (the 
lawyer's  harvest),  we  found  the  mercer  and  the 

'  ptepi]  i.  e.  eyes  (spalE) :  compare  p.  G31. 1.  lB-20. 

'  granni  at]  So  fir«l  ed.     Not  in  jec.  ad. 

'  Orteiu'i  bveki,  Bic]  Stt  note,  vol.  i.  p.  290. 

*  wtwr]  i.  e.  wbereai. 

'  vaMlting-hoHiti']  i.  e.  broiheli. 

'  Pkl-Malclit  and  TimlxiU-tirttl^  Sea  naU>  p.  E13, 


58S 


IL  HUBBtlBD  B  TALES. 


merchant  crowded  in  his  study  amongst  a  company 
of  law-books,  which  they  jusiled  so  often  with  their 
coxcombs,  that  they  were  almost  together  by  the 
ears  with  them;  when  at  the  sight  of  us  they  took 
an  habeat  corpvi,  and  removed  their  bodies  into  a 
bigger  room.  But  there  we  lingered  not  long  for 
our  lormenti;  for  the  mercer  and  the  merchani 
gave  tire  to  the  lawyer's  tongue  with  a  rope  of 
an^eW  and  the  word  Jhiei  went  off  with  such  a 
powder,  that  the  force  of  it  blew  us  all  into  the 
couulry,  quite  changed  our  ploughmen's  shapes, 
and  so  we  became  little  ants  again. 

This,  madam  Nightingale,  is  the  true  discourse 
i>r  our  rural  fortunes,  which,  how  miserable, 
wretched,  and  full  of  oppression  they  were,  all 
husbandmen's  brows  can  witness,  that  are  fined 
»r  by  year  j 
iiixonet  of  your  sweet  singing  will  s 
to  i!ie  world  in  satirical  harmony. 

The  remorseful''  nightingale,  delighted  with  the 
ant's  quaint  discourse,  began  to  tune  the  instrument 
of  her  voice,  breathing  forth  these  lines  in  sweet 
and  delicious  airs. 


The  Niglitingate'g  Canaanet. 

Poor  little  ant. 

Thou  shalt  not  want 
The  ravish'd  music  of  my  voice  ! 

'i'hy  shape  is  best, 

Now  thou  art  least, 
For  great  ones  fall  with  greater  noise 

angfli]  See  nolc,  p.  20.  There  teems  lo  be 
rpworkt  running  on  linea  ;  icc  Tol,  ii.  p.  £31. 
rcaartffiil]  1. 1.  compauionite. 


HCBBURD  a  TALES.  51 

And  this  Bliall  be  the  marriage  of  my  song, 
Small  bodies  can  bave  but  a  little  wrong. 

Now  thou  art  securer, 
And  thy  days  far  surer  ; 
Thou  pay'st  no  rent  upon  the  rack, 
To  daub  a  prodigal  landlord's  back. 
Or  to  mainiain  the  subtle  running 
or  dice  and  drabs,  both  one  in  cunning; 
Both  pass  from  liand  to  hand  to  many. 
Flattering  all,  yet  false  to  any; 
Both  are  well  link'd,  for,  throw  dice  how  you  can, 
They  will  turn  up  their  peeps'  to  every  man. 

Happy  art  thou,  and  all  thy  brothers, 
That  never  feel'st  the  hell  of  others  ! 
The  torment  to  a  luxur"  due. 
Who  never  thinks  his  harlot  true; 
Although  upon  her  heels  he  stick  his  eyes, 
Yet  still  he  fears  that  though  she  stands  she  lies. 


Now  are  thy  labou 

rs  easy. 

Thy  state  not  sick 

or  queasy ; 

All  drops  thou  sne 

Great  subsidies  be 

BS  unknown 

To  thee  and  to  thy  little 

■  fellow-ants. 

Now  none  of  you  under 

that  burden  pants. 

Lo,  for  example,  I  myself,  poor  worms," 
That  have  outworn  the  rage  ofTereus'  storms. 
Am  ever  blest  now,  in  this  downy  shape. 
From  all  men's  treachery  or  soul-melting  rape  ; 
And  when  1  sing  Tereu,  Tereu, 
Through  every  town,  and  so  renew 


,»]  f 


«84 


FATHER  nDBDtrHDH  TALES. 


The  luune  orTereus,  slaves,  through  fears,.! 

With  guilty  fingers  boll  their  ears, 
All»  ravishi-ri  do  rave  and  e'en  fall  mad. 
And  then  such  wroiij^'d  souls  as  myself  are  glad. 

So  thou,  Btnall  wretch,  and  all  thy  nesi, 
Are  in  thu&e  IJitle  hodies  blest. 
Not  tax'd  beyond  your  poor  degree 
With  landlord's  line  and  Inwyer's  fee : 
But  (ell  me,  pretty  toiling  worm, 
Did  that  same  ploughman's  neary  form 
Diacourage  thee  so  much  from  others, 
That  neither  thou  nor  those  ihy  brotliers. 
In  borrow'd  ahapes,  durst  once  agen* 
Venture  amongst  perfidious  men  f 


Yes,  lady,  the  poor  ant  replied, 
I  led  not  bo;   but  then  I  tried 
War's  sweating  fortunes  ;  not  alone 
Condemning  rash  all  siatea  for  one, 
Until  I  found  hy  proof,  and  knew  by  cou 
That  one  was  bad,  but  all  the  rest  were  worse. 

Didst  thou  put  on  a  rugged  soldier  then? 
A  happy  stale,  because  thou  fought'st  'gainst  men. 
Prithee,  discourse  thy  fortunes,  state,  and  harms; 
Thou  wast,  no  doubt,  a  mighty  man-at-arms. 


The  Atd't  TaU  when  he  rfitt  a  wldier. 

Tlien   thus,   most  musical  and  prickle-sin^ 

inadam  (for,  if  I  err  not,  your  ladyship  was  the  m 

'  Ml)  So  fini  ed.     Stc  ed.  ■'  And  all." 

1  ■vfn]  See  note,  p.  tS2. 

'  ptieklr-iitging]  Compare  p.  SS6,  line  *. 


FATHER  ul'bburd's  tales.  585 

thai  brought  up  prick-son^,*  being  nothing  eUc  but 
tli«  fatal  notes  of  your  pitiful  ravish meni),  I,  not 
contented  long,  a  vice  cleaving  to  all  worldlings, 
with  this  link  estate  of  an  ant,  but  stuffed  with 
envy  and  ambition,  as  small  as  I  was,  desired  lo 
venture  into  the  world  again,  which  I  may  rather 
term  the  upper  hell  or  frtgida  geketma,  the  cold- 
charitable  bell,  wherein  are  all  kind  of  devils  too ; 
as  your  gentle  devil,  your  ordinary  devil,  and  your 
gallant  devil ;  and  all  these  can  change  their  shapes 
loo,  as  lo-day  in  cowardly  while,  to-morrow  in  po- 
litic black,  a  third  day  in  jealous  yellow;  for  believe 
it,  Hweet  lady,  there  are  devils  of  all  colours.  Never- 
theless, I,  covetous  of  more  change,  leapt  out  of 
this  little  skin  of  an  ant,  and  hung  my  skin  on  the 
hedge,  taking  upon  me  the  grisly  shape  of  a  dusty 
soldier.  Wulj  made  I  was,  and  my  limbs  valiantly 
lieun  out  for  the  purpose  :  I  had  a  mazzard,'  I 
-,  so  well  lined  in  the  inside  with  my 
Stood  me  in  belter  stead  than  a  double 
;  for  the  brain  of  a  soldier,  differing  from 

e,  fur,  and  even  qutit  the  coxcomb,  and  so 
makes  a  pate  of  proof;  my  face  was  well  leavened, 
which  made  my  looks  taste  sour,  the  true  relish  of 
a  man  of  war ;  my  cheeks  dough-baked,  pale,  wan, 
and  therefore  argued  valour  and  resolution  ;  but 
my  nose  somewhat  hard-baked,  and  a  little  burnt 
in  the  oven,  a  properly  not  amiss  in  a  soldier's 
visage,  who  should  scorn  to  blush  but  in  his  nose; 
my  chin  was  well  thatched  with  a  beard,  which  was  a 
necessary  shelter  in  winter,  and  a  fly-flap  in  gum- 


remembe 

headpieci 
all  other 


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


i.  p.  S26. 


986  rATBEK  HUBBOKDi  TALES. 

mer,  bo  btu&liy  and  spreading,  that  my  lips  could 
scarce  be  seen  to  natk  abroad,  but  played  at  all-hid, 
and  durst  not  peep  forth  for  starting  a  hair.  To 
conclude,  my  arms,  thighs,  and  legs,  nere  so  sound, 
■tout,  and  weighty,  as  if  they  had  come  all  out  of 
the  timber-yard,  that  my  very  presence  only  nas 
able  to  still  the  bawlingest  infant  in  Europe.  And 
i  think,  madam,  this  was  no  unlikely  shape  for  a 
soldier  to  prove  well ;  here  was  mettle  enough  for 
four  shillings  a-week  to  do  valiant  service  till  it 
was  bored  as  full  of  holes  as  a  skimmer.  Well,  to 
the  wars  1  betook  me,  ranked  myself  amongst  des- 
perate hot  shots, — only  ray  carriage  put  on  more 
civility,  for  1  seemed  more  like  a  spy  than  a  foU 
lower,  an  observer  rather  than  a  committer  of  vit- 
lany.  And  little  thought  1,  madam,  that  the  camp 
bad  been  supplied  with  harlots  too  as  well  as  the 
Cunain,"  ami  the  guarded  tents  as  wicked  as  gar- 
den tenements ; "  trulls  passing  to  and  fro  in  the 
washed  shape  of  laundresses,  as  your  bawds  about 
London  in  the  manner  of  starchwomen,  which  is 
most  unsuspected  habit  that  can  be  to  train  out 
distress.  And  if  your  ladyship  will  not  think  me 
much  out  of  the  way  though  I  lake  a  running  leap 

.   irom  the  camp  to  the  Strand  again,  I  will  discover 
k  pretty  knavery   of  the  same  breeding  between 

I  tuch   a  starchwoman  and  a  kind  wanton  mistress; 
there  are  few  of  those  balassed  vessels  now-a- 
days  but  will  have  a  love  and  a  husband. 

The  woman  crying  her  ware  by  the  door  (a  most 
pitiful  cry,  and  a"  lamentable  hearing  that  such  a 
stiff  thing  as  starch  should  want  customers),  passing 

'  lit  Curtain]  i.  e.  the  Iheitre  to  called,  in  Shoredilch. 


lier  right 


FATHER  bubburd's  tales.  S87 

cunningly  and  slily  by  the  Ktall,'  not  once  raking 
notice  of  tlie  party  you  wot  on,  but  being  by  this 
some  three  or  four  shops  off,  Mass,  quoth  my  young 
mistress  to  the  weathercock  her  husband,  such  a 
thing  I  want,  you  know  :  then  she  named  liow  many 
puffs  and  purls*  lay  in  a  miserable  case  for  want 
of  sliffening.  The  honest  plain-dealing  jewel  her 
out  a  boy  to  call  her  (not  bawd  by 
ne,  but  starch w Oman )  :  into  the  shop 
taking  a  low  counterfeit  curtsey,  of 
whom  the  miatress  demanded  if  the  starch  were 
pure  gear,''  and  would  be  stiff  in  her  ruff,  saying 
she  had  often  been  deceived  before,  when  the  things 
about  her  have  stood  as  limber  as  eelskins.  The 
woman  replied  as  eubiilely.  Mistress,  quoth  she, 
take  this  paper  of  starch  of  my  hand;  and  if  it 
prove  not  to  your  mind,  never  bestow  penny  with 
me,  —  which  paper,  indeed,  was  a  letter  sent  to  her 
from  the  gentleman  her  exceeding  favourite.  Say 
you  so  1  (juoth  the  young  dame,  and  I'll  try  it,  i'faith. 
With  that  she  ran  up  stairs  like  a  spinner  upon 
small  cobweb  ropes,  nut  to  try  or  arraign  the  starch, 
but  to  conAter'  and  parse  the  letter  (whilst  her 
husband  sat  below  by  the  counter,  like  one  of  these 
broiv-biiien  catclipolls  that  wait  for  one  man  all 
day,  when  his  wife  can  put  live  in  the  counter 
before  him),  wherein  she  found  many  words  that 
pleased  her.  Withal  the  gentleman  writ  unto  her 
for  a  certain  sum  of  money,  which  no  sooner  was 
read,  but  was  ready  to  be  sent:  wherefore,  laying 
up  the  starch  and  that,  and  taking  another  sheet 


■  Hall]  Shapi  beiag 
p.  54. 
*  purli]  i.  e.  bordtri,  friogM. 


time  open ;  aee  n 


of  clem  paper  in  ber  hand,  wanting  time  and  op- 
pnrtuniiy  to  write  at  largp,  with  a  penfal  of  iok,  in 
tfce  very  miilille  of  the  sheet,  writ  these  few  quaint 
inanaty  liable  I,  Coin,  Caret,  and  Cvrei,  and  alt  C* 
tUe  art  youri.  Then  rolling  up  the  white  niaoey 
like  the  sinrch  in  that  paper  very  aiibtilcly  and  art»- 
ficially.  came  tripping  down  stairs  with  these  colonic 
able  wordi,  Here's  goodly  starch  indeed!  fie,  fiat 
— trust  me,  husband,  as  yellow  ax  the  jaimdice ;  I 
would  not  have  betrayed  my  pnfls  wiih  it  for  a 
1  million:  — here,  here,  here  (giving  her  the  paper  of 
[  money).  With  that  the  subtle  starchtrnman,  lean- 
ing sorry  thai  il  pleased  her  not,  told  her,  witbin 
few  days  she  would  lit  her  turn  with  that  which 
■hoiild  like'  her;  meaning  indeed  more  such  tweet 
news  from  her  lover.  These  and  such  like,  madanit 
are  the  cunning  conveyances''  of  secret,  privy,  and 
therefore  unnoted  harlots,  that  so  avoid  the  com- 
mon finger  of  the  world,  when  less  committers  than 
they  are  publicly  pointed  at. 

So  likewise  in  the  camp,  whither  now  I  return, 
borne  on  the  swif\  wings  of  apprehension,  the  habit 
of  a  laundress  shadows  the  abomination  ofa  strum- 
pet;  and  oitr  soldiers  are  like  glovers,  for  the  one 
cannot  work  well,  nor  the  other  iighc  well,  without 
their  wenches.  This  was  the  first  mark  of  villany 
ihsi  1  found  sticking  upon  the  brow  of  war;  but 
at>er  the  hot  and  fiery  copulation  ofa  skirmish  or 
two,  the  ordnance  playing  like  so  many  Tambiir- 
lames,*  the  muikcls  and  calivers  answering  like 
drawers,  Anon,  anon,  sir,'  1  cannot  be  here  aitd 
there  too, — that  is,  in  the  soldier's  hand  and  La  t] 

•  likf\  \.  e.  pinse. 

'  ranrryonvi]  See  note,  p.  SIT. 


FATHER  HUBBUROa  TAtEB.  589 

enemy's  belly,  I  grew  more  acquainted,  and,  as  it 
were,  entered  into  the  entrails  of  black-Iivered  po- 
licy. Methaught,  indeed,  at  first,  those  great  pieces 
of  ordnance  should  speak  English,  though  now  by 
transportation  turned  rebels  :  and  what  a  miserable 
and  pitiful  plight  it  was,  lady,  to  have  so  many 
thousands  of  our  men  slain  by  their  own  country- 
men the  cannons, — 1  mean  not  the  harmless  canons 
of  Paul's,  but  those  cannons  that  have  a  great  singing 
in  their  heads!  Well,  in  this  onset  i  remember  I 
was  well  smoke -dried,  but  neither  arm  nor  leg 
perished,  not  so  much  as  the  loss  ofa  petty  finger; 
for  when  I  counted  them  all  over,  I  misseil  not  one 
of  them;  and  yet  sometimes  the  bullets  came  within 
a  hair  of  my  coxcomb,  even  like  a  barber  sctatching 
my  pate,  and  perhaps  took  away  the  left  limb  of  a 
vermin,  and  so  departed;  another  time  shouldering 
me  like  a  bailifl*  against  Michaelmas-term,  and  then 
shaking  me  by  the  sleeve  as  familiarly  as  if  we  had 
been  acquainted  seven  years  together.  To  con- 
clude, they  used  me  very  courteously  and  gentle- 
manlike awhile ;  like  an  old  cunning  bowler  lo  fetch 
in  a  young  ketling^  gamester,  who  will  suffer  him 
to  win  one  sixpenny-game  at  the  first,  and  then 
lurch  him  in  six  pounds  afterward :  and  so  they 
played  with  me,  still  training  me,  with  their  fair 
promises,  into  far  deeper  and  deadlier  battles, 
where,  like  villanous  cheating  bowlers,  they  lurched 
me  of  two  of  my  best  limbs,  viz,  my  right  arm  and 
right  leg,  that  so,  of  a  man  of  war,  I  became  in  shew 
a  monster  of  war  ;  yet  comforted  in  this,  because  I 
knew  war  begot  many  such  monsters  as  myself  in 
less  than  a  twelvemonth.  Now  I  could  discharge 
no  tnore,  having  paid  the  shot  dear  enough,  1  think, 


ling]  See  n 


-,  p.  513. 


690  FATHER  BCBBUBD  S  TALES. 

but  rather  desired  to  be  discharged,  to  have  pay 
and  begone ;  whereupon  I  appeared  to  my  captnio 
and  other  commanders,  kisBJng  my  leA  hand,  which 
then  stood  for  both  (like  one  actor  that  plays  two 
parts),  who  seemed  to  pity  my  unjointed  fortunes 
and  plaster  my  wounds  up  with  words,  told  me  1 
bad  done  valiant  service  ia  their  knowledge;  marry, 
as  for  pay,  they  must  go  on  the  score  with  me,  for 
all  their  money  was  thumped  out  in  powder :  and 
this  was  no  pleasing  salve  for  a  green  sore,  madam ; 
'twas  too  much  for  me,  lady,  to  trust  calivers  with 
my  limbs,  and  then  cavaliers  with  my  money. 
Nevertheless,  for  all  my  lamentable  action  of  one 
arm,  like  old  Titus  Andronicus,''  I  could  purchase 
no  more  than  one  month's  pay  for  a  ten  months' 
pain  and  peril,  nor  that  neither,  but  lo  convey 
away  my  miserable  clamours,  that  lay  roaring 
against  the  arches  of  their  ears,  marry,  their  boun- 
tiful favours  were  extended  thus  far,  —  I  had  a 
passport  to  beg  in  all  countries. 

Well,  away  I  was  packed;  and  aOer  a  few  mise- 
ries by  the  way,  at  last  I  set  one  foot  into  England 
again  (for  1  had  no  more  then  lo  set),  being  my 
native  though  unnatural  country,  for  whose  dear 
good  I  pawned  my  limbs  to  bullets,  those  merciless 
brokers,  thai  will  take  the  vantage  of  a  minute; 
and  so  they  were  quite  forfeited,  lost,  and  unre- 
coverable. When  I  was  on  shore,  the  people  ga- 
thered,— which  word  gathering  put  me  in  hope  of 

*  nrd'on  o/me  o™,  liki  eld  Tims  .^Bdnmiciu]  Ser  ihe  tragedy 
so  called,  which,  though  now  prinud  siaong  ihe  works  of 
Shakespeare,  was  anuredl;  wriilen  by  lome  other  drsmstiit, 
— probably,  by  Msriowe.  In  acl  iii.  ic.  1,  Asron  curs  off  the 
band  of  Tilus ;  and  in  act  v.  sc.  2,  the  latter  says, 

"  How  can  I  ^ace  my  talk, 
Wmting  a  hond  ta  girt  it  acliaaf" 


FATBEE  HDBBUim'a  TALES.  591 

good  comfort,  thnt  afterfrard  I  failed  of;  for  I 
thought  at  first  they  had  gathered  something  for 
me,  but  I  found  at  last  they  did  only  but  gather 
about  me  ;  some  wondering  at  me,  as  if  1  had  been 
aome  sea-monBter  east  ashore,  some  jesting  at  my 
deformity,  whilst  others  laughed  at  the  jests:  one 
amongst  them,  I  remember,  likened  me  to  a  sea- 
crab,  because  1  went  all  of  one  side;  another  fellow 
vied  it,'  and  said  I  looked  like  a  rabbit  cut  up  and 
half-eaten,  because  my  ning  and  leg,  as  they  termed 
it,  were  departed.  Some  began  to  pity  me,  but 
those  were  few  in  number,  or  at  least  their  pity 
was  as  pennyless  as  Pierce,'  who  writ  to  the  devil 
for  maintenance.  Thus  passing  from  place  to  place, 
like  the  motion''  of  Julius  Cteaar  or  the  City  Ni- 
neveh, though  not  altogether  in  so  good  clothes,  I 
overtook  the  city  from  whence  I  borrowed  my  first 
breath,  and  in  whose  defence  I  spent  and  laid  out 
my  limbs  by  whole  sums  to  purchase  her  peace 
and  happiness,  nothing  doubting  but  to  be  well 
entreated'  there,  my  grievous  maims  tenderly  re- 
garded, my  poor  broken  estate  carefully  repaired, 
the  ruins  of  my  blood  built  up  again  with  redress 
and  comfort :  but  woe  the  while,  madam  !  I  was 
not  only  unpiticd,  Buccourless,  and  rejected,  but 
threatened  with  the  public  stocks,  loathsome  jails, 
whipping-pofits,  there  to  receive  my 


<  if]  So  flnt  ed.     Not  in  «ec.  ed. 

i  Pierce]  Sec  note,  p.  fill. 

^  ilu  mMion,  Sec]  i.  e.  the  puppet-show :  that  of  Nine<reh, 
shich  wai  veiy  celebrated,  has  been  mentioned  before,  *ol.  i. 
p.  229,  And  Yol.  iv.  p.  16<i.  la  EuerU  JVonan  t*  her  Haimmr, 
1609.  GeticB  obierveB,  thai  ihe  hid  seen  "  the  Cilrie  of  new 


■ta].- 


d  luliiu 


and  Dekker  t 


FATHER  HUBBCKD  S  TALES. 


pay- 

iflv 


B  goodly  T' 


rati  for  my"  bleeding  » 
e  found  in  the  ciiy  again 


I  forced  to  retire  I 
I  Spita)  and  Slioredilcli,  which,  as  it  appeared,  wat 
the  only  Cole-harbour"  and  sanctuary  for  weocbei 
■nd  soldiers;  where  I  took  up  a  poor  lodging  a' 
Uust  till  the  Sunday,  hoping  that  tlicn  master  Ainu 
I  and  mistress  Charity  would  walk  abroad  and  take 
the  air  in  Finsbury.  At  which  time  1  came  hoppii^ 
out  from  my  lodging,  like  old  lame  Giles  of  Cripple- 
gate  ;  but  when  1  came  there,  the  wind  blew  so 
(leak  and  cold,  that  I  began  to  be  quite  out  of  hope 
of  charity  ;  yet,  like  a  torn  map  of  misery,  I  waited 
tny  single  halfpenny  fortunes;  when,  of  a  andden, 
turning  myself  about,  and  looking  down  the  Wind- 
ntill-hill,  1  might  espy  afar  offa  fine-faahioned  dame 
of  the  city,  with  her  man  bound  by  indenture  befijre 
her ;  whom  no  sooner  I  caught  in  mine  eyelids,  bai 
I  made  to  with  all  possible  speed,  and  with  a  pre- 
meditated speech  for  the  nonce,"  thus,  most  soldier- 
like, 1  accosted  her :  Sweet  lady,  I  beseech  your 
beauty  to  weigh  the  estate  of  a  poor  unjoinied  sol- 
dier, that  hath  consumed  the  moieiy,  or  ihe  one- 
half  of  his  limbs,  in  the  dismembering  and  devour- 
ing wars,  that  haveP  cheated  me  of  my  flesh  so 
notoriously,  I  protest  I  am  not  worth  at  this  instant 
the  small  revenue  of  three  farthings,  beside  my 
lodging  unpleased''  and  my  diet  unsatisfied;  and 
had  I  ten  thousand  limbs,  1  wouid  venture  them  nil 
in  your  swcei  quarrel,  rather  than  such  a  beauty  as 
yourself  should  want  the  least  limb  of  your  desire. 


NotiE 


a.  t± 


FATHER  RUBBURd's  ' 


593 


Wiih  ihat,  as  one  being  rather  moved  by  my  last 
words  of  promise  than  my  tirat  words  of  pity,  she 
drew  her  white  bountiful  hand  out  of  her  marry- 
mufF,'  and  quoited  a  single  halfpenny;  whereby  I 
knew  her  then  to  be  cold  mistress  Charity,  both  by 
her  chill  appearance  and  the  hard,  frozen  pension 
she  gave  me.  She  was  warm*  lapt,  1  remember, 
from  the  sharp  injury  of  the  biting  air  ;  her  visage 
was  benighted  with  a  taffeta-mask,  to  fray  away 
the  naughty  wind  from  her  face,  and  yet  her  very 
nose  seemed  so  sharp  with  cold,  that  it  almost 
bored  a  hole  quite  through  :  this  was  frost-bitien 
Charity  ;  her  teeth  chattered  in  her  head,  and  leaped 
up  and  down  like  virginal-jacks,'  which  betrayed 
likewise  who  she  was  :  and  you  would  have  broke 
into  infinite  laughter,  madam  (though  misery  made 
me  leaden  and  ptensive),  had  you  been  present,  to 
have  seen  how  quickly  the  mutTswallowed  her  hand 
again;  for  no  sooner  was  it  drawn  forth  to  drop 
down  her  pitiful  alms,  but,  for  fear  the  sun  and  air 
should  have  ravished  it,  it  was  extempore  whipt  up 
again.  This  is  the  true  picture  of  Charity,  madam, 
which  is  as  cold  as  ice  in  the  middle  of  July. 

Well,  still  I  waited  for  another  fare;  hut  then  I 
bethought  myself  again,  Chat  alt  the  fares  went  by 
water  a'  Sundays  to  the  bear-baiting,"  and  a'  Mon- 
days to  Westminster-hall ;  and  therefore  little  to  be 
looked  for  in  Moorfields  all  the  week  long :  where- 
fore I  sat  down  by  the  rails  there,  and  fell  into 
these  passionate,'  but  not  railing  speeches  :  Is  this 
the  farthest  reward  for  a  soldier  ?  are"  valour  and 

'  marrg-tinff]  See  Qoiea,  vol,  i.  p.  3SS,  loL  iii.  p.  36. 

•  vam]  So  fint  ed.     Kot  in  lee.  cd. 

'  virginal-jacki]  See  note,  vol.  iii.  p.  112. 

■  Iht  btar- bailing']  Ai  Fuii  Garden,  in  Soulhvarlc. 

•  jMHionafc]  i,  e.  pBlheile,  sorrowful.         "  art]  Eds.  "  is." 


SBi  FATHER  HUBBUBDG  TALES. 

resolution,  the  two  champions  of  the  soul,  so  slightly 
estecmeii  and  bo  basely  undervalued  ?  dotfa  reeling 
Fortune  not  only  rob  us  of  our  limbs,  but  of  our 
living  1  are  soldiers,  then,  both  food  for  cannon  and 
for  misery  ?  But  then,  in  the  midst  of  my  passion, 
calling  to  memory  the  peevish  turns*  of  many 
famous  popular  gallants,  whose  names  were  writ 
even  upon  the  heart  of  the  world — it  could  not  so 
much  QB  think  without  them,  nor  speak  but  in  the 
discourse  of  them — I  began  to  outdare  the  very 
worst  of  cruel  and  disaster  chances,  and  determined 
to  he  constant  in  calamity,  and  valiant  against  the 
battering  siege  of  misery.  But  note  the  cross  star 
that  always  dogged  my  fortunes :  I  had  not  long 
rested  there,  but  I  saw  the  tweering'  constable  of 
Finsbury.with  his  bench  of  brown-hill-men.i'making 
towards  me,  meaning  indeed  to  stop  some  prison- 
hole  with  me,  as  your  soldiers,  when  the  wars  have 
done  with  them,  are  good  for  nothing  else  but  lo 
stop  holes  withal;  at  which  sight,  I  scrambled  up 
of'  all  two,  took  my  skin  off  the  hedge,  cozened 
the  constable,  and  slipt*  into  an  ant  again. 


NlGBTlNOALE. 

O,  'twas  a  pretty,  quaint  deceit, 
(The  Nightingale  began  to  sing,) 

To  slip  from  those  that  lie  in  wait, 
Whose  touch  is  like  a  raven's  wing, 

■■  turnip  First  ed.  "forlnoei." 

'  twciring]  Ot  tKirixg  —  eqiumlent  here,  it  teemi,  ii 
piyiDg,  peeping:  on  the  word  lioirr,  seeGifibrd'a  note,  B.  J 
■on'i  IForki,  vol.  Ti.  p.  280,  and  Kichardion's  Dkl.  in  v. 

'  brnun-bill-men^    See  note.  p.  £13, 

'  iH  Squivdent  to  on  :  lee  uote,  vol.  iii.  p.  SSB. 

-  iJi/>']  So  first  ed.     Sec.  ed.  leems  (o  have  "  slint." 


R  ItUBDUnDS  TALES. 


Over  a  niorial,  i 

Alas,  poor  emmet !  thou  wast  tost 
In  thousand  miseries  by  iliis  shape  ; 

Thy  colour  wasted,  thy  blood  lost. 
Thy  limbs  broke  with  the  violent  rape 

or  hot  impatient  cannons,  which  desire 

To  ravish  lives,  spending  their  lust  in  fire. 

O  what  3  ruthAil  eight  it  is  to  see. 

Though  in  a  soldier  of  the  mean'st  degree, 

That  right  member  perjsh'd 

Which  the'  body  cherish'd  ! 

That  limb  dissever'd,  burnt,  and  gone, 

Which  the  best  part  was  borne  upon  : 

And  then,  the  greatest  ruth  of  all. 

Returning  home  in  lorn  estate, 
Where  he  should  rise,  there  most  to  fall, 

Trod  down  with  envy,  bruis'd  with  hate: 
Yet,  wretch,  let  this  thy  comfort  he. 
That  greater  worms'*  have  far'd  like  thee. 

So  here  thou  left'st,  bloodless  and  wan. 
Thy  journeys  thorough  man  and  man  ; 
These  two  cross'd  shapes,  so  much  opprest. 
Did  fray  thy  weakness  from  the  rest. 


No,  madam,  once  again  my  spleen  did  thirst 
To  try  the  third,  which  makes  men  blest  or  ci 
That  number  three  many  stars  wait  upon,     ' 
Ushering  clear  hap  or  black  confusion  : 

'  the]  So  first  ed.     Sec.  ed.  "  Ih]'." 


Once  more  I  ventur'd  all  my  hopes  to  crown, — 
But,  aye  me !  leapl  into  a  scholar's  gown. 

NlOHTlNOALE. 

A  needy  scholar  !  worse  than  worst. 

Less  fate  in  that  than  both  the  first : 

I  thought  thou'dst  leapt  into  a  law-gown,  then 

There  had  been  hope  t'  have  swept  up  all  agen  j** 

But  a  lank  scholar  !  study  how  you  can, 

No  academe  makes  a  rich  alderman. 

Well,  with  this  comfort  yet  ihou  may'st  discourse. 

When  fates  arc  worst,  then  they  can  be  no  worse. 

The  Anl's  Tale  nihen  he  ivai  a  scholar. 
You  speak  oracle,  madam ;  and  now  suppose, 
sweet  lady,  you  see  me  set  forth,  like  a  poor 
scholar,  to  the  university,  not  on  horseback,  but 
in  Hobson's  waggon,"  and  all  ray  pack  contained 
in  less  than  a  little  hood-box,  my  books  not  above 
four  in  number,  and  those  four  were  very  needful 
ones  too,  or  else  they  had  never  been  bought ;  and 
yet  I  was  [he  valiant  captain  of  a  grammar-school 
before  1  went,  endured  the  assault  and  battery  of 
many  unclean  lashes,  and  all  the  battles  I  was  in 
stood  upon  points'  much,  which,  once  let  down, 
the  enemy  the  schoolmaster  would  come  rearward, 
and  do  such  an  e^tploit  'tis  a  shame  to  be  talked 

"  agen}  See  Date,  p.  192. 

■  Habim'i  uaggon}  See  note,  vol.  W.  p.  7.  I  ouehl  to  bavt^ 
uid  there,  that  Milton  compoied  lica  copies  of  teraai  on 
Hobson;  and  1  may  add  here,  that  thef  are  printed  (one  of 
Ihcm  very  imperrecllj)  in  Ifir  Rtiland  (p.  185,  ed.  1S17), 
where  they  are  preceded  by  an  enlarged  copy  of  what  forms 
the  third  epitapli  on  Hobson  in  Wil'i  Recrealiaiu. 

'  poind]  i.  e.  tsgeed  lacea  liy  which  the  breeehes  were 
attached  to  the  doubleL 


FATHER   UUBBUKD  S  TALES. 

of.  fiy  [his  time,  madam,  imagine  tne  slightly  e 
tenained  !□  be  a  poor  scholar  and  servitor  to  soi 
Londoner's  son,  a  pure  cockney,  that  muat  hear 
twice  a-week  from  his  mother,  or  else  he  will  be 
sick  ere  the  Sunday  of  a  university-mulligrub. 
Such  a  one,  I  remember,  was  my  first  puling 
master,  by  whose  peevish  service  I  crept  iQto  an 
old  battler's'  gown,  and  eo  began  to  be  a  Jolly 
fellow.  There  was  the  first  point  of  wit  I  shewed 
in  learning  to  keep  myself  warm;  to  the  confirm- 
ing of  which,  you  shall  never  take  your  true  philo- 
sophers without  two  nightcaps  at  once  and  better, 
a  gown  of  rug  with  the  like  appurtenances;  and 
who  be  your  wise  men,  I  pray,  but  they  ?  Now, 
BB  for  study  and  books,  I  had  the  use  of  my  young 
master's  ;  for  he  was  all  day  a  courtier  in  the  tennis- 
court,  tossing  of  balls  instead  of  books,  and  only 
holding  disputation  with  the  court- keeper  how 
many  dozen  he  was  in ;  and  when  any  friend  of 
his  would  remember  bim  to  his  book  with  this  old 
moth-eaten  sentence,  nulla  diet  sine  tinea.  True,  he 
would  say,  I  observe  it  well,  for  I  am  no  day  from 
the  line  of  the  racket-court.  Well,  in  the  mean- 
time, I  kept  his  study  warm,  and  sucked  the  honey 
of  wit  from  the  flowers  of  Aristotle  —  steeped  my 
brain  in  the  smart  juice  of  logic,  that  subtle  virtue, 
■ — ^and  yet,  for  all  my  weighty  and  substantial  argu- 
ments, being  able  indeed  to  prove  any  thing  by 
logic.  I  could  prove  myself  never  the  richer,  make 
the  best  syllogism  I  could :  no,  although  I  daily 
rose  before  the  sun,  talked  and  conversed  with 
midnight,  killing  many  a  poor  farthing  candle,  that 
sometimes  was  ungently  put  to  death  vrhen  it  might 
have  lived  longer,  but  most  times  living  out  the 

■  ballltr'i]   &««  note,  p.  S'H. 


I 


593 


FATHER  UrBBURD  S  TALES. 


full  course  and  liour,  &nd  the  snufF  dying  naturally 
in  his  bed.  Nevertheless,  I  h&d  entered  as  yet 
but  the  suburbs  of  a  scholar,  and  sat  but  upon  the 
skirts  of  teaming:  full  af\en  I  have  sighed  when 
others  have  snorted ;  and  when  baser  trades  have 
securely  rested  in  ihcir  linens,  I  have  forced  mine 
eyes  open,  and  even  gagged  them  with  capital  tet- 
ters, stretching  tbem  upon  tlie  tenters  of  a  broad 
text-line  when  night  and  sleep  have  hung  pound 
weights  of  lead  upon  my  eyelids. 

How  many  such  black  and  ghastly  seasons  have 
1  passed  over,  accompanied  only  with  a  demure 
watching  -  candle,  that  blinked  upon  Aristotle's 
works,  and  gave  even  sufficient  glimmering  to  read 
by,  but  none  to  spare !  Hitherto  my  hopes  grew 
comfortable  upon  the  spreading  branches  of  art 
and  learning,  rather  promising  future  advancement 
than  empty  days  and  penurious  scarcity.  But  shall 
1  lell  you,  lady?  O,  here  let  me  sigh  out  a  full 
point,  and  take  my  leave  of  all  plenteous  hours 
and  wealthy  hopes  !  for  in  the  spring  of  at!  my 
perfections,  in  the  very  pride  and  glory  of  all  my 
labours,  I  was  unfruitfuUy  led  to  the  lickerish  study 
of  poetry,  that  sweet  honey-poison,  that  swells  a 
supple  scholar  with  unprofitable  sweetness  and  de- 
licious false  conceits,  until  he  burst  into  extremities 
and  become  a  poetical  almsman,  or  at  the  most,  one 
of  the  Poor  Knights  of  Poetry,  worse  by  odds  than 
one  of  the  Poor  Knights-of  Windsor.  Marry,  there 
was  an  age  once,  but,  alas,  long  since  dead  and 
rotten,  whose  dust  lies  now  in  lawyers'  sand-boxes ! 
in  those  golden  days,  a  virluous  writer  might  have 
lived,  maintained  himself  better  upon  poems  than 
many  upon  ploughs,  and  might  have  expended  more 
by  the  year  by  the  revenue  of  bis  verse  than  any  riot- 
ous elder  brother  upon  the  wealthy  ciuartridges  of 


tiiree  times  three  hundred  acres,  according  to  the 
excellent  report  of  these  lines  : 


There 

vas  a  golden 

age — who  murder 'd  it? 

Howd 

ed  that  age, 

or  what  became  of  it! 

Then 

poets,  by  d 

vines  t  alchemy. 

Did  tur 

n  their  ink  t 

3  gold  ;  kings  in  that  time 

Hung  ■ 

ewels  at  the 

ear  of  every  rhyme. 

ButO. 

those  days  a 

re  wasted  !  and  behold 

The  go 

den  age  tha 

wasiscoindtogold: 

And 

why  Time  n 

Or  this 

an  iron-age 

'tis  thus  expreat, — 

The  go 

den  age  lies 

in  an  iron  cheat : 

Gold  lies   now    as    prisoner  in  a 

n-barred  chest,  where  the  prison-grates  i 


locks 


great 
e  the 


sely  mewed,  i 
ter  looks  to  walk 
e  to  come  a  speedy 
e  tlie  piddling  gout 
n  enough  ;  for  your 


uid  the  key -ho  lea 
dammed  up,  that  it  ne 
abroad  again,  unless  there  chanc 
rot  among  usurers, — for  I  fear  n 
will  never  make  them  away  s< 
rank  money-masters  live  their  i 
years  as  orderly  as  many  honesler  men :  and  it  is 
great  pity,  lady  Philomel,  that  the  gout  should  be 
such  a  long  courtier  in  a  usurer's  great  toe,  revel- 
ling and  domineering  above  thirty  years  together 
in  his  rammish  blood  and  Iiis  fusty  flesh;  and  I 
wonder  much,  madam,  that  gold,  being  the  spirit 
of  the  Indies,  c«n  couch  so  basely  under  wood 
and  iron,  two  dull  slaves,  and  not  muster  tip  his 
legion  of  angels,'  burst  through  the  wide  bulk  of 
a  coffer,  and  so  march  into  bountiful  and  liberal 

'  ongcli]  See  noie,  p.  20. 


600  FATHER  ilCBBURDS  T*LE«. 

bosami,  shake  hands  with  vinuoui  geotJemen, 
dustrious  apiriis,  and  true-ileserving  worthies, 
testing  the  covetous  clutches  and  loathsome  fangs 
of  a  goat-bearded  usurer,  a  gable-80ul[ed]  broker, 
and  an  infectious  lan-fogger. 


Vet  that  which  makes  me  most  admire  his  base- 
nets  are  these  verses  following,  wherein  he  proudly 
sets  forth  his  own  glory,  which  he  Taunts  so  much 
of,  that  I  shame  to  think  any  ignoble  spirit  or 
copper  disposition  should  fetter  his  smootb  golden 
limbs  in  boisterous  and  sullen  iron,  but  rather  be 
let  free  to  every  virtuous,  and  therefore  poor 
scholar  (for  poverty  is  niece  to  virtue);  so  should 
each  elegant  poeni  be  truly  valued,  and  divine 
Poesy  sit  crowned  in  gold,  as  she  ought,  where' 
now  she  only  sits  with  a  paper  on  her  head,  as  if 
she  had  committed  some  notorious  trespass,  either 
for  railing  against  some  brawling  lawyer,  or  calling 
some  justice  of  peace  a  wise  man;  and  liow  tnng- 
niUcently  Gold  sings  of  his  own  fame  and  glory, 
these  bis  own  verses  shall  stand  for 


1 


Know,  I  am  Gold, 
The  richest  spirit  that  breathes  in  earlh  or  hell. 
The  soul  of  kingdoms,  and  the  stump  of  souls  ; 
Bright  angels'*  wear  my  livery,  sovereign  kings 
Christen  their  names  in  gold,  and  call  themselves 
Royal'  and  sovereign'"  alter  my  gilt  name; 
All  offices  are  mine  and  in  my  gxh ; 

J  ithtre]  i.  e.  whereai. 

■'  angiU]  See  note,  p.  30. 

'  tagal]  See  note,  p.  S72. 

■  Mnertlgn']  See  note,  »oL  L  p,  110^ 


FATUEE  KUBfiURDS  TALES. 


no  I 


I 


I  have  a  hand  in  all ;  the  statist's  veins 

Flow  in  the  blood  of  gold;  the  courtier  bathes 

His  supple  and  lascivious  limbs  in  oil 

Which  my  brow  sweats  :  whai  lady  btigiitly  spher'd 

liui  takes  delight  to  kiss  a  golden  beard? 

Those  pleaders,  forenoon  players,  act  my  parts 

With  liberal''  tongues  and  desperate-fighling  spirits. 

Thai  wrestle  with  the  arms  of  voice  and  air ; 

And  lest  they  should  be  out,  or  faint,  or  cold. 

Their  innocent  clients  hist  them^n  with  gold  : 

What  holy  churchman's  not  accounted  even, 

That  prays  three  times  to  me  ere  once  to  heaven? 

Then  to  let  shine  the  radiance  of  my  birth, 

I  am  th'  enchantment  both  in  hell  and  earth. 


Here's  golden  majesty  enough,  I  ti 


I  a  poor  padlock? 
'orthy  of  such  an  i 
lir  sleek-faced  coui 
ue;  thou  that  thn 
'orld,  with  the 


nd  yet  s 


ind,  Gold, 


.ighty,  1 

0  base  drudge,  and  loo 
ngel-like  form!  much  like 
lier,  without  either  wit  or 
west  the   earthen  bowl  of 

1  the 


the  world,  with  the  bias  the  wrong  way, 
saniry,  baseness,  ingentility,  and  never  givest  de- 
sert his  due,  or  shakest  thy  yellow  wings  in  a 
scholar's  study!  But  why  do  I  lose  myself  in 
seeking  ibee,  when  tbou  art  found  of  few  but  illi- 
terate hinds,  rude  boors,  and  hoary  penny- fathers,' 
that  keep  thee  in  perpetual  durance,  in  vaults  under 
false  boards,  subtle-contrived  walls,  and  in  horrible 
dark  dungeons  bury  thee  most  unchristian -like, 
without  amen,  or  the  least  noise  of  a  priest  or 
clerk,  and  make  thee  rise  again  at  their  pleasures 
many  a  thousand  time  before  doomsday;   and  yet 


«  librral] 


'aliir^M 


a,lioi 


602  tATat.%  Huncut  s  talbb. 

Kill  Dot  *11  this  move  thee  once  to  forsake  them, 
and  kwp  company  with  a  acholar  that  truly  knows 
how  to  u*e  thee  1 

Bt  tbi*  time  I  bad  framed  an  elaborate  poetical 
building  —  a  neat,  choice,  and  curious  poem, — -the 
first-fmits  of  my  musical  -  rhyming  study,  irhicii 
wu  dispersed  into  a  quaint  volume  fairly  bound 
up  in  principnl  Tellum,  double  -  filleted  with  teaf- 
goM.  strung  most  gentlemanUke  with  carnation  silk 
ribund ;  which  bo(>k,  industriously  heaped  with 
w<*ighiv  conceits,  precious  phrases,  and  nealiliy 
numbers,  I,  Oliver  Hubburd,  in  the  beat  fashion 
I  might,  presented  to  Sir  Christopher  ClutchGst, 
whose  bountiful  virtue  I  blaze  in  my  first  epistle. *" 
I  The  book  he  entertained  but,  I  think,  for  the  cover's 
take,  because  it  made  such  a  goodly  show  on  the 
backside:  and  some  two  days  after,  returning  lor 
my  remuneration,  I  might  etpy  —  O  l.imentable 
sight,  madam!  —  my  book  dismembered  very  ita- 
gically  ;  the  cover  ript  off,  I  know  not  for  what 
purpose,  and  the  carnation  silk  strings  pulled  out 
and  placed  in  his  Spanish-leatlier  shoes  ;  at  which 
ruthlul  prospect  1  fell  down  and  sounded;"  am) 
when  I  came  to  myself  again,  I  was  an  ant,  and  so 
ever  since  I  have  kept  me. 

NlGBTISCALE. 

There  keep  thee  still ; 
.Since  all  are  ill. 

Venture  no  more ; 
'Tis  bciior  be  a  little  ant 
Than  a  great  man  and  live  in  want. 

And  still  deplore  : 

•  fir.i  rpi.tlf-\  See  p.  .Jil. 


PATflBR  hobbukd's  tales.                 (i03 

So  real  thee  now 

From  sword,  book,  or  plough. 

By  lliis  the  day  began  to  spring, 

\nA  seiEC  upon  her  waichful  eyes. 
When  more  tree-quiristerg  did  sing. 

And  every  bird  did  wake  and  rise  : 
Which  was  no  sooner  seen  and  heard, 
But  all  their  pretty  chat  was  marr'd; 
And  then  she  said. 
We  are  betray'd. 
The  day  is  up,  and  alt  the  birds 
And  ihey  abroad  will  blab  our  words. 

With  that  she  bade  the  ants  farewell. 
And  all  Ihey  likewise  Philomel : 

Away  she  flew, 

Crying  Term! 
And  all  (he  industrious  ants  in  throngs 
Fell  to  their  work  and  held  their  tongues. 

J 

APPENDIX. 

THE  TRIUMPHS 
HONOUR  AND   INDUSTRY. 


i 


'  ""*'^ 


Tbr  Tryumphi  of  Honor  and  Iiidlllry.  A  Sultmntty  ptr- 
formtd  Ihroagk  llit  CUy,  at  Coiifirmaliim  and  Ittabliikmtnt  <if  tht 
Right  HanarabU,  Georgt  Boalei,  In  the  Office  of  hii  UeieHitt 
Lieaelenanl,  tht  Lord  Mayor  nf  Ike  /amons  Cilly  of  LgfldoN. 
Taking  btginning  at  til  Lordihiiu  going,  and  prorteding  afttt 
Mil  Relume  fiom  receining  the  Oalk  a/ Maiorallt/  al  IViilmiyiiler, 
im  Ike  rnwrow  nixl  afttr  Simm  and  Judex  dag  'October  29.  1617. 
London,  Printed  by  Niebolai  Oiei.   1617.  4to. 

It  nai  not  until  ibe  esilier  poriion  of  the  present  valumc 
had  been  prinled,  thai  (  wai  able  to  procure  (he  (unique) 
4(0  of  thia  pageant. 

In  the  Account  of  Middlelan  and  l»s  Workt,  p.  xxi.,  I  havp 
given  aome  extracti  from  the  Grocers'  Conipaoy's  sccounta 
leUtiog  to  thia  piece,  Id  ohich  meatioa  ia  matte  of  "  The 
Pageant  of  Naliona,  the  Hand,  the  ladiao  chariot,  the  Caatle 
of  Fame,  trymaing  the  Shipp,  vith  aU  Ihi  leveral  beaitri  which 
drew  Ihem :"  and  1  maj'  now  add  from  the  aame  document ; 

'■  Payde  for  50  lugar  loavea.  36  lb.  of      £.    ,.    d. 
nulmeggs,  34  lb.  of  dates,  and  IH 
lb.  of  ginger,  which  were  Ihrowen 
about  the  streetea  by  those  which 
aate  on  the  griffynt  and  camUi  ...       H     T     S." 
Heaih'a  -Ace.  i^lhe  Wortkip.  Covp.  i^  Grm:m,f.  331. 
on  either  of  the  ahfp  or  the 


Ta  the  tcorthy  deierver  of  aU  the  eo»U  and  tritimpht 
which  the  liable  Society  of  Grocert  in .  bounteoiu 
!  hestoia  OH  him,  the  Riff  hi  Honourable 
R  Bowles,*  Lord  Mayor  of  l/ie  fatnoiu  City 
of  London. 

UlBHT   HONOUHABLE, 

Out  of  Ihe  slightest  labours  and  employ- 
ments there  may  that  viriufi  Bometimes  arise  that 
may  eDlighten  the  best  part  of  man.  Nor  have  these 
kind  of  triumphe  aa  idle  relish,  especially  if  they  be 
artfully  accomplished :  under  such  an  esteemed  elight- 
tiess  may  often  lurk  that  fire  that  may  shame  the 
best  perfection.  For  instance,  what  greater  means 
fur  the  imitation  of  virtue  aud  nobleness  can  any 
where  present  itself  with  more  alacrity  to  the  be- 
holder, than  the  memorable  fames  of  those  worthies 
in  the  Castle,  manifested  by  their  escutcheons  of 
arms,  the  only  symbols  of  honour  and  antitjaity? 
The  honourable  seat  that  b  reserved,  all  men  have 
hope  that  your  justice  and  goodness  will  exactly 
merit ;  to  the  honour  of  which  I  commend  your 
lordship's  virtues,  remaining, 

At  your  Honour's  service. 


Bollcs"  by  Sloo  and  otbect. 


I 


HONOUR  AND  INDUSTRY. 


It  hatb  been  twice  mj  t'ortuue  in  short  ^nie  to  have 
employment  for  tlil«  noble  Society,  where  1  have 
always  met  with  men  of  much  understanding,  and 
no  less  bounty ;  to  whom  cost  appears  but  as  a 
shallow,  BO  there  be  fulness  of  content  in  the  per- 
formance of  the  solemnity:  which  that  the  world 
may  .judge  of,  fer  whose  pleasure  and  satisfaction 
custom  hath  yearly  framed  it,  but  chietly  for  the 
honour  of  the  City,  it  begins  to  present  itself,  not 
without  form  and  order,  which  is  rer^uired  in  the 
meanest  employment. 

Tkejirit  invetttion. 

A  company  of  Indians,  attired  according  to  the 
true  nature  of  their  country,  seeming  for  the  most 
part  naked,  are  set  at  work  in  an  Island  of  growing 
i^piees:  some  planting  nutmeg-trees,  some  other  spice- 
trees  of  all  kinds ;  some  gathering  the  fruits,  some 
making  up  bags  of  pepper ;  everj-  one  severally  em- 
ploye<l.  These  Indians  are  all  active  youths,  who, 
ceasing  in  their  labours,  dance  about  the  trees,  both 
to  give  content  to  themselves  and  the  spectators. 

After  this  show  of  dancing  Indians  in  the  Island, 
follows  triumphantly  arich  personage  presenting  India, 


iMHAM  IB  iBivtor  tM  Mv  ««■  hrwvnl  to  i|Mtk, 


k  tk»a 

TWir  fntt  ami  Im«  •■  mK.joj'i  or  ai 

WW  af  nv  ^K  f  .KLii'<  bM  1  b«*c  rab'tl, 

ABd  dkr  ^did  hMMH  W  In  dan  ? 

IWIiil1ij»a«tfcliliniJrfp»W: 

T*  tM>  «Uaa>  BC,  K  Id  Mml  ta  gloiy: 

Ab4  «h«  «  ilfRt  to  knv  Mck  a  atnry  ? 

it  ii  M  dor  m  BgH  m  br«b  » Iniili. 

l^aenBctkrirapwlKMilBdiHtry  Ihetrroaili. 

BekoU  A»  Ml  «f  goU.  afNw  >liieb  •taMb 
A  goldn  Cspi^  vt^vb  vftk 
TV  B^htj  po««r  of  bdoMrj 
TIUg«tobo«h  w«iU  Bad  tan 
Whfc  aadi  a  ilfww  of  aaiitjr  and  peace. 
Km  only  to  iivrif  atUiD^  lacreair. 
But  KTRal  Batio»»  «b«c  vommctve  abooMb 
Tufbf  the  hatiwoaiow  ptaee  to  nrtrtly  sounds; 
For  imtaacv.  IM  foor  gnriou*  eyp  be  tix'd 
L'poa  a  joT  tne  tkoagk  m  ■mogrir  adx'd. 


613 

And  that  you  may  take  the  better  note  of  their 
adomraents, — India,  whose  seat  is  the  most  emioeiit, 
for  her  expression  holds  in  her  hand  a  wedge  of  gold ; 
Traffic,  her  associate,  a  globe ;  Industry,  a  fair  golden 
ball  in  her  liaiid,  upon  which  stands  a  golden  Cupid ; 
Fortune  expressed  with  a  silver  wheel ;  Success 
holding  a  painted  ship  in  a  haven :  Wealth,  a  golden 
key  where  her  heart  lies;  Virtue  bearing  for  her 
manifestation  a  silver  shield  ;  Grace  holding  in  her 
hand  a  book  :  Perfection  a  crown  of  gold. 

At  which  words,  the  Pageant  of  Several  Nations, 
which  is  puqiosely  planted  near  the  sound  of  the 
words,  moves  with  a  kind  of  aifeciionate  joy  both  at 
the  honour  of  the  day's  triumph  and  the  prosperity 
of  Love,  which  by  the  virtue  of  Traffic  is  likely  ever 
to  continue  ;  and  for  a  good  omen  of  the  everlasting 
continuance  of  it,  on  the  top  of  this  curious  and 
triumphant  pageant  shoots  up  a  laurel-trce,  the 
leaves  spotted  with  gold,  about  which  sit  six  celestial 
figures,  presenting  Peace,  Prosperity,  Love,  Unity, 
Plenty,  and  Fiddity :  Peace  holding  a  branch  of 
palm  ;  Prosperity,  a  laurel ;  Love,  two  joined  hands  ; 
Unitj*,  two  turtles ;  Plenty  holding  fruits ;  Fidelitv, 
a  silver  anchor.  But  before  I  entered  so  far,  1  should 
have  shewed  you  the  zeal  and  love  of  the  Frenchmftn 
and  Spaniard,  which  now  I  hope  will  not  appear 
unseasonably ;  who,  not  content  with  a  silent  joy, 
like  the  rest  of  the  nations,  have  a  thirst  to  utter 
their  gladness,  though  understood  of  a  small  num- 
ber !  which  is  this : 


La  mullitude  m'at/atU  mtmte  sur  ce  fiaul  lieu  pour 
rontempler  le  glorieux  tiiomphe  de  cetle  joum^t,  je 
VOL.  V-  3  G 


OH  THE  TEIttMFn«>  OF 

rain  i/u'rH  quelqve  tortt  la  noble  diffnM  </«  la  trr$ 
konora/tle  fwciiU  drt  O'rm^rrf  y  ent  repreient^e,  dout 
ntt  JouiMaat  par-tieMimus  lnus.  jr.  Irur  nouhaiie  et  a 
H/oateifffumr  U  Main  U  combU  de  touUs  ruAUt  rt 
KewmitetfortHnea. 

The  tame  in  Engliih. 
It  ii  m;  joy  chiefly  (and  I  gt&nil  for  [faousaiids), 
to  see  the  glory  of  UiM  triuRiphHOt  day,  which  ia 
•onH!  mrasiirc  reqnites  thd  noble  worthiness  of  the 
hoaoiiratilG  Society  ofCirocem.  to  wliom  and  to  my 
Lord  Mayor  I  wish  all  good  sireMsses, 

Tlii»  Frenchman  no  »ooner  sets  a  periud  to  hu 
speech,  but  tlic  .S|mnisrd,  in  zeal  as  virtuous  as  hC) 
utters  bltnaelf  to  the  purpose  of  the»e  words : 

The  SpanianTs  fpefch  in  Spawh. 
yinffuna  de  lodan  titaa  rtarionen  amcibe  mator  tf 
verdailrm  aleffria  en  ette  trivtnjari/e  y  ploriom  dia 
que  ya.  nit,  ninguna  de  lodajs  elUis,  portpie  agnra 
ipir  me  partre,  que  ton  Ian  ricat,  ef  tenat  i/ue  lot  de 
my  nation  en  tratantlo  con  tllttt  reaixrron  mayor 
provrcAo  dellat,  at  my  senior  Don  Maior  lotlai 
iuetiat  y  dichotat  forlunat,  y  a  lot  de  la  honrada 
Compania  de  Etpecierot  dickntot  drsteot,  y  atti  diot 
ffuardr.  a  my  tenior  Don  Motor,  y  rogo  a  diot  yur 
todn  r.l  aiiHO  tiffutenU,  jmede  ter  Ian  dichoto  eomo 
rtia  entrada  luya,  a  la  diffnidad  de  tu  tenoria,  ffnardt 
diot  a  tH  tcnoria. 

The  tame  in  EngUtk, 
Nonr  of  all  theite  nations  conceive  more  true  ji 
at  thin  triumphant  day  tlion  myself:  to  my  ] 
Major  all  fair  and  noble  fortunes,  and  to  the  v 
SociolT  of  tJroccirB  all  happy  wishes;  and  1 


heaven  that  all  the  year  following  ma}'  be  as  happy 
and  Huccesflful  as  this  first  entrance  to  your  dignity. 

This  expres^iioii  of  their  joy  and  love  having  j^pent 
itwlf,  I  know  you  cannot  part  contented  without 
their  several  inscriptions :  now  the  favour  and  help 
roust  be  io  you  to  conceive  our  breadth  and  limits, 
and  not  to  think  we  can  in  these  customary  bounds 
comprehend  all  the  nations,  but  so  many  as  shall 
serve  to  give  content  to  the  understander ;  which 
thus  produce  themselves : 

An  Englishman. 
A  Frenchman. 
Ad  Irishman. 
A  Spaniard. 
A  Turk. 
A  Jew. 

A  Folander. 
A  Barbarian. 
A  Russian  or  Muscovian. 

This  fully  expressed,  I  arrive  now  at  that  part 
of  triumph  which  my  deiiire  ever  hastened  to  come 
to,  this  Castle  of  Faroe  or  Honour,  which  Industry 
brings  her  sons  unto  in  their  reverend  ages. 

In  the  front  of  this  Castle,  Reward  and  Industry, 
decked  in  bright  robeit,  keep  a  seat  between  them 
for  him  to  whom  the  day's  honour  is  dedicated, 
shewing  how  many  worthy  sons  of  the  City  and  of 
the  same  Society  have,  by  their  truth,  desert,  and 
industry,  come  to  the  like  honour  before  him ;  where 
on  a  sudden  is  shewn  divers  of  the  same  right  wor- 
shipful Society  of  Grocers,  manifested  both  by  their 
good  government  in  their  times,  as  also  by  their 
escutcheons  of  arms,  aa  an  example  and  encourage- 


(ilO 


THE  T 


tueiit  to  all  virtuous  and  industrious  deaerven  in 
time  to  come.  And  in  honour  of  antiquity  is  sbewn 
that  ancient  and  memorable  worthy  of  the  Grocers' 
Company,  Andrevr  Bockrill,  who  was  mayor  of 
London  the  sixteenth  yearof  Henry  the  Third.  !23I, 
and  continued  bo  mayor  seven  years  together :  like- 
wise, for  the  greater  honour  of  the  Company,  is  also 
shewn  in  this  Castle  of  Fame  the  noble  Allen  de  la 
Zouche,  grocer,  n  ho  was  mayor  of  London  the  two- 
and-fillieth  year  of  the  same  Henry  the  Third,  which 
Allen  de  ia  Zouche,  for  his  good  government  in  the 
time  of  his  mayoralty,  was  by  the  said  King  Henry 
the  Third  made  both  a  baron  of  this  realm  and  lord 
chief-justice  of  England ;  also  that  famous  worthy, 
air  Thomas  Knolles,  grocer,  twice  mayor  of  this  hon~ 
uurable  city,  which  sir  Thomas  bc^n  at  his  own 
t;harge  that  famous  building  of  Guildhall  in  London, 
and  other  memorable  works  both  in  this  city  and  in 
his  own  Company;  bo  much  worthiness  being  the 
lustre  of  this  Castle,  and  ought  indeed  to  be  the 
imitation  of  the  beholder. 

My  lord  no  sooner  approaches,  but  Ren-ard,  a 
partner  with  Justice  in  keeping  that  seat  of  honour, 
as  overjoyed  at  the  sight  of  him,  apiiears  too  free 
and  forward  in  the  resignation. 

Reward. 

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


Justice. 
True,  but  not  yet  to  he  possess'd.     Hear  me : 
Justice  must  flow  through  him  before  that  be; 
Great  works  of  grace  must  be  requir'd  and  done 
Before  the  honour  of  this  seat  be  won. 


o  do  thy  virtue:!  grace. 


A  whole  year's  reverend  care  in  rigliting  wrongs, 
And  guarding  innocence  from  raalielous  tongues, 
Must  be  employ 'd  in  virtue's  sacred  right 
Before  this  place  be  fill'd  :  'tis  no  mean  fight 
That  wine  this  |jalm ;  truth,  and  a  virtuous  care 
Of  the  oppressed,  those  the  loadstones  are 
That  will  gainst  envy's  power  draw  him  forth 
To  take  this  merit  in  this  seat  of  worth, 
Where  all  the  memorable  worthies  shine 
In  works  of  brightness  able  to  refine 
AH  the  beholders'  minds,  and  strike  new  fire. 
To  kindle  an  industrious  desire 
To  imitate  their  actions  and  their  fame, 
Which  to  this  Castle  adds  that  glorious  najue. 
Wherefore,  Reward,  free  as  the  air  or  light. 
There  must  be  merit,  or  our  work':*  not  right. 

Reward. 
If  there  were  any  error,  'twas  my  love ; 
And  if  it  be  a  fault  to  be  too  free. 
Reward  cominits  but  once  such  heresy. 
Howe'er,  I  know  vour  worth  will  so  extend. 
Your  fame  will  fill  tliis  seat  at  twelve  months'  end. 

About  this  Castle  of  Fame  are  placed  many  hon- 
ourable figures,  as  Truth,  Antiquity,  Harmony,  Fame, 
Desert,  Good  Works ;  on  the  top  of  the  Castle, 
Honour,  Religion,  Piety,  Commiiie ration,  the  works 
of  those  whose  memories  shine  in  this  Castle. 

If  you  look  upon  Truth  first,  you  shall  find  her 
properly  expressed,  holding  in  her  right  hand  a  sun, 
in  the  other  a  fan  of  stars ;  Antiquity  with  a  scroll 
in  her  hand,  as  keeper  of  Honour's  records;  Har- 
mony holding  a  golden  lute,  and  Fame  not  without 
ber  silver  trumpet;  for  Desert,  'tis  glorious  through 


1)cr  own  bright ^t^s>i,  but  holds  nothing;  Good  Works 
I'XjireaseU  with  a  college,  or  hospital. 

Ou  the  top  of  the  Cantle,  Houour  manirested  by 
a  fair  star  in  his  hand;  Religion  with  a  temple  on 
her  bead;  Piety  with  an  altar;  Commiseration  with 
a  melting  or  burning  heart 

And,  not  to  have  our  speakeni  forgollen,  Iteward 
and  Justice,  with  whom  we  entered  this  part  of 
Triumph,  Reward  holding  a  wreath  oi'gold  ready  for 
a  deserver,  and  Justice  fumiabed  with  her  sword 
and  balance. 

All  this  service  is  performed  before  the  feast. 
sonic  iu  Paul's  Churchyard,  some  iu  Cheapside ;  at 
which  place  the  whole  Triumph  meets,  both  Castle 
and  Island,  that  gave  delight  uiion  the  water.  And 
now,  as  duty  binds  me,  I  commend  my  lord  and  bis 
right  honourable  guess'  to  the  solemn  pleasure  of 
the  feast,  from  whence,  I  presume,  all  epicurism  is 
banished;  for  where  Houour  is  master  of  the  feast. 
Moderation  and  Gravity  are  always  attendants. 

The  feast  being  ended  at  Guildhall,  my  lord,  ae 
yearly  custom  invites  him,  goes,  accompanied  with 
the  Triumph,  towards  St.  Paul's,  to  perform  the 
noble  and  reverend  ceremonies  which  divine  anti- 
quity virtuously  ordained,  and  is  no  less  than  faith- 
fully observed,  which  is  no  meaii  lustre  to  the  City- 
Holy  service  and  ceremonies  accomplished,  he  re- 
turns by  torchlight  to  his  own  house,  the  wliole 
Triumph  placed  in  comely  order  before  him;  and 
at  the  entrance  of  his  gate,  Honour,  a  glorious  pei^ 
SOD,  from  the  top  of  the  Casde,  gives  life  to  these 
following  words; 

■  gutii"]  i.e.  gueiii;  see  note,  vol.  i.  p.  326. 


HONODK  AND  INI>USTHY. 


» 


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

Honour. 
There  is  no  human  glory  or  renovn, 

But  have  their  evening  and  their  sure  »un-MUing: 
Which  shews  that  we  should  upward  seek  our  crown, 

And  make  but  use  of  time  for  our  hope's  bettering : 
So,  to  be  truly  mindful  of  our  own, 
Is  to  perform  all  parts  of  good  in  one. 
The  close  of  this  triumphant  day  is  come. 
And  Honour  stays  to  bid  you  welcome  home: 
All  I  desire  for  my  grace  and  good 
Is  but  to  be  remember'd  in  your  blood, 
With  honour  to  accomplish  the  fair  time 
Which  power  hath  put  into  your  liuuds.     A  crime 
Afi  great  as  ever  came  into  sin's  band 
I  do  entitle  a  too-sparing  hand  : 
Nothing  deads  honour  more  than  to  behold 
Plenty  coup'd  up,  and  bounty  faint  and  cold, 
Which  ought  to  be  the  free  life  of  the  year; 
For  bounty  'twas  ordain'd  to  make  that  clear. 
Which  is  the  light  of  goodness  and  of  Ikme, 
And  puts  by  honour  from  the  cloud  of  shame. 
Great  cost  and  love  hath  nobly  been  bestow'd 
Upon  thy  triumph,  which  this  day  hath  shew'd ; 
Embrace  'em  in  thy  heart,  till  times  afford 
Fuller  expression.     In  one  absolMe  word. 
All  the  content  that  ever  made  man  blest. 
This  Triumph  done,  make  a  triumphant  breast  I 

No  sooner  the  speech  is  ended  but  the  Triumph 
is  dissolved,  and  not  possible  to  scape  the  bands  of 
the  defacer ;  things  that,  for  their  auaintness  (I  dare 
■o  far  commend  them),  have  uot  been  usually  seen 


620      THE 


OF  UOKOUB  A 


through  the  City;  the  credit  of  which  ucirkmaiishi 
I  must  justly  lay  upnn  the  deserts  of  master  Rowland 
Buckf^t,  chief  master  of  the  work ;  yet  not  forpetiing 
the  faithful  care  and  industry  of  my  well-approved 
friend,  master  Henry  Wilde,  and  master  Jacob 
Chulloner,''  partners  in  the  business. 

The  Reason  cuts  me  off;   and  after  this  day' 
trouble  I  am  as  willing  to  take  my  reM. 


^  Jaceh  CItoUmrr']  In  Ihe  document  before 
piymenu  "  lo  Jacob  Challoner,  pwoter." 
btnnerc,  &c.     Heatli,  Kc.  p.  331 


ship  I 

land  J 


INDEX  TO  THE  NOTES. 


^^■^^H 

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

INDEX  TO  THE  NOTES.                     ^^| 

'<  high  loM.  i.  262. 

^^^H 

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

^^H 

■  thing  done,  i».  87. 

amber,  iv,  237.                                        ^^ 

«hlB.  iy.  223. 

amorauslj,  iv.  236. 

Abr«'ni,goodin»n.  iii.  32. 

Abram-coloDred,  i.  259. 

there,  i.  205 ;  iii.  25S ;  it. 

abrapt.  ii.  ISl. 

45. 

AchiUes'  speai.  iii.  498. 

»ches,  i.  28.  45i  ii.  417. 

■ndenE.  iii.  239. 

acopna,  iii.  327. 

angel,  i.  250;  ii.  2S  ;  iii.  38  ; 

MfOBticii.  179. 

iv.  616;  t.  20. 

angle,  ii.  132;  i».  309. 

affBCted,  T.  7. 

angler,  ii,  537. 

iffecM,  *.  144. 

Anno  Domini,  iii.  266. 

rfront,  ii.  U. 

anon.a>.on,  iv.  177;  T.  588. 

i««n.i.  331;  ii.  33 :  ».371. 

Arlotta.iii.  201. 

_       *«en.  i,  416;  ii.  66  i  iii.  S8 ; 
L          T.  192. 

■  aUbluter,  i.  281 ;  W.  108. 

■  alchemy  (or  rdcnm;),  ir.  122. 
r      >l..mn.  Hi.  626. 

Arthur  of  Bradley,  iii.  118. 

Antlinga,  Saint,  i.  503  ;    u. 

464 

witimaaque,  iy.  627  ;  v.  146. 
•pud.  i.  125. 

AlaBlor,  T.  432. 

apes'  brcechei,  ir.  425. 

Aldegord,  Abbea..  if.  310. 

apparenee,  i.  361  [  ii.  119. 

apperil,  i.  427. 

«■  life.  i.  272 1    ii.   68  i    iii. 

apijle-aquire,  iii.  232. 

34B ;  i».  70. 

appose,  i.  304. 

Atiguit,  iii.  8  ;  iv.  218, 

approvE,  iT.  243 ;   v.  62 ;  ». 

■looroff,  i.  427;  ii.  525  :  iii. 

315. 

40 ;  T.  89. 

aprnn  husbands,  ii.  486. 

aqua  yitE.  i.  206  ;   iii.  239  ; 

AU-hoUontide.  V.  282. 

V.  82.                                                      ^_ 

■tlline,  T.  394. 

argo,  i.                                                     ^^^M 

allowed,  i.  7. 

Ariatippiia,  Ii.  422.                               ^^^H 

almond  for  parrot,  iii.  112; 

arrant,  ..                                                ^^H 

ij.  122. 

7  1 

^H                     624                           WOEX  TO  THE  NOTES.                                ^^^ 

H                   ArtillerTG«dtt,i».«4;  ». 

becovered.  iii.  268;  t.  29. 

■                       283.' 

bedfellow,  i.  448. 

H                   ulopei,  i.  257. 

beetJe.  iiL231. 

^H                      usamed  fonnkllT,  ii.  3S6. 

before  me.  iii.  459. 

H                   u«ir«l.  <>.  201. 

beforne.  v.  493. 

■                    ■Lomiea.  iii.  226. 

begfiirarool.iu.16;  i>.  134. 

■                    atlane,  ii.  194;  iT.  509. 

bdialdiog,  i.  441 :  iLSO;  iii. 

■                    «mt,  L  4-14  1  iii.  le  :  iT.  247. 

IS6;  IT.  40;  T.  36. 

H                       Bveature.  i.  2S3. 

bell  naed  b*  beggan.  ii.  169. 

Belt.  the.  ir.  8. 

BeU.  Adam.  ii.  446. 

^K                       taffle,  ii.  449. 

berav.  i.  294  ;  iii.  27D. 

^L                     btaing,  iT.  41. 

^H                  [bsker'a  ditcb,  Ad.  Bt  Car.  i. 

bcMt.  i.  504. 

■                         U>v,] 

beahraw,  iii.  460. 

^B                     B>l«i.  Frter.  r.  571. 

bendn.  i.  235. 

^1                     b.U>[-])lBc«.  >.  542. 

be»nia<>,  i.  24D. 

^K                   balloon-InU,  iv.  342. 

beren,  (1.427;  1.  Ml. 

H                    bui,  i.  2B4. 

bewray*,  1.294;  ii.  197. 

■                       bud.  i.  245;  u.  439. 

bewrayed,  v.  76. 

■                     budilwr.v.sn. 

bin,  iii.  193;  T.  421. 

B.                    bmdora,  ii.  319. 

bill-men,  ia.  217  i  *.  SIS. 

H                    buu»,  i.  471 ;  if.  483  ;  *.  129. 

hUls,  i.  423. 

B                       bmqnet,  iii.  2S2 ;  <r.  42. 

bitter.  T.  289. 

H                       buikront,  iL  453  ;  ir.  56. 

birle.  iU.  152. 

black-guard.  iL  546. 

^H                   fiuakside.  T.  574. 

Block&iar..  iv.  75;  v.  S74. 

^m                   bard  duer-tnj,  iii.  193. 

blaek  palcbM.  U.  535. 

^H                    bu-lPT-break,  iU.  1 14 ;  W.  250. 

blacka.  ii.  353. 

^B                      buren,  iv.  SSI. 

bloDcbed  harlot,  u.  SSO. 

^H                    butRTd.  ii.  347  ;  iii.  45. 

blank.  iT,  119. 

^H                    buUUk.  iii.  214. 

bleaking-hooK,  t.  106. 

^H                    buiiu   beaten   when    bawds. 

blocks,  iii.  107.  147. 

^H                        8cc.,  were  carted,  iii.  238. 

blue  gown  worn  by  strumpeti 

^H                    basket,  the.  v.  142. 

iD  peoance,  iii.  220. 

^H                      battler,  r.  644. 

blue  worn  by  beadles,  i-  485. 

^H                       bauble,  iT.  247. 

blue  worn  by  KrTant*,  ii.  26 ; 

^H                   bawdt.  ring!  worn  bj.  i.  80. 

iii.  146;  T.  109. 

^H                   Beauchamp,  bold,  u.  411. 

blurt,  iii.  30. 

^H                   Bear,  the,  at  the  Bridge-foot, 

board,  IT.  5  [and  Ad.  &  for. 

■ 

i.  UniL] 

^M                   beu-  ia  hand,  ii.  456  ;  iii.  373. 

^M                      beving,  u.  529. 

boards,  u.  542. 

^H                      beaten,  >.  491. 

Bocardo,  ii.  120. 

^K^^^     beau  chalk,  iii.  221. 

boiled,  ii.  544.                               1 

^H  "^ 

^^^^^^1 

bolster!,  iv.  45Z. 

bulchini,  iii.  524. 

bolt,  iii.  IBS. 

bulk,  iii.  177!  »-509. 

bull-beggar.,  n.  20. 

bombuted.  m.  198. 

Bumby,  mother,  iv.  124. 

bonner,  t.  378. 

bums.  i.  432  ;  ii.  SaS. 

booked  it,  iii.  594. 

bum.roli,  iv.  S51. 

books,  in  mjr,  iii.  349. 

bnoDB-rob.,  i.  258;  ii.  IGO; 

booted,  ».  566. 

iii.  132. 

boot-h«kr«.  ii.  532. 

Burbage,  v.  303. 

borachlo,  IT.  103. 

burgonet,  i.  231. 

bosl.  Y.  567- 

burgh,  ii.  165. 

boughU,  iu.  381. 

Burae,  the,  u.  510!  v.  *85. 

botuing  ken,  ii.  53S. 

burst,  V.  412. 

[\>ow»]in\t,Ad.eiCor.i.hs.] 

buryingioonejr,  i.  81. 
buBk-points,  v.  515. 

liD»-wide,  ■,  i.  4S9. 

brabbling  nutter,  iii.  458. 

Butler,  Dr.  W.,  i.  37. 

bnu^ks,  iT.  6. 

byrliidj.  i.  135;   ii.  66;   iii. 

Bniinford,  1.   450;    ii.    463; 

9 ;  iv.  530. 

iv.  37;  V.  159. 

byrlakins.  iv.  480. 

branched,  v.  103. 

bj«s.  V.  558. 

Bnmdon,  iU.  632. 

brave,  ii.  543 ;   iU.   15  ;   iv. 

cabiahBl,  V.  35. 

135 ;  T.  25. 

cabrito,  iv.  404. 

br&velT,  if.  504. 

enlWiuoocher.  i.  174. 

bnver,  i.  430. 

cidtrop,  iv.  623. 

bnivn7,i.28;iT.I67i  V.490. 

uamooch,  i.  239. 

Bnu™  H™d.  the,  ii.  523. 

canu-in,  the,  iii.  39 :  iv.  174. 

bread  and  «at.  taking,  iii.  103. 

caniana,  iii.  573. 

brwking-np,  •>.  574. 

canker,  in.  501. 

breaft.  ir.  fi83. 

cannot  leU.  ui.  357, 

I            bnath,  T.  431. 

cant,  V.  208. 

■          Bretnor,  iii.  6S7i  t.  149. 

canter,  iii.  S12. 

■            BrideweU,  iii.  222. 

cantle,  v.  209. 

W           brief,  V.  23. 

capachity,  i.  277. 

■           broker,  i.  248. 

CatieUo,  Bianci,  iv.  516. 

broking,  i.  248. 

carkanet,  ii.  300. 

bronitropB,  iii.  508. 
brothel,  li.  S. 

camifexei,  iiL  523. 

brown-bill,  i.  237. 

carpet,  i.  386;  iU.  83. 

brait«d,  U.  138. 

carpet -knights,  iii.  61. 
eaaiTiv.  1T7. 

bnbba™,iT.  121. 

BucVierabury,  iv.  48. 

eaiible.  iv.  322. 

bucklen,  indent,  iii.  147. 

cast,  i.  288;  ii.  201. 

bndgeUing.  t.  30. 

cast.  i.  158;  ii.201;  iii.  296; 

■             bugle-browed,  iv.  478. 

iv.  92. 

■                       VOL.  V.                                  3 

^ 

^^^B^H 

6M                           WBM  TO  TBS  Mm.                                              ^ 

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

gw*r.g.<W-_ 

.^  SW  <f.  (f .  M7. 

LITfTiLSBb 

Ccuia.  m.  I»l. 

dly  ■■■  ik.  *.   H»:    :<^ 

nun't.  H.  AM. 

.«£  A  0«-.  L  tBoLl 

Cal0.  U.  1>. 

rita.(t.  Mi. 

otto.  1.394  i  m.  in. 

fMBf.  >.  tSI. 

rarvUed. iL  tlO. 

i«iK.mi  :<iB4  3^  A 

OrUr.  St..  n.  310. 

C^.  LfaoL] 

ctUtBdc,  U.  173. 

ceiwtre,  i.  MTi  ii.  Ml  & 

(taif7,fi.IiS. 

«8i  W.  Sllli».««. 

dtt>.*   MS. 

«™ii™d.  U,  227. 

dv.t.U3;>.XS4:n.9(: 

«*t«..  Ui.  «B. 

».  JIO. 

3*7, 

arts."" 

rfuldnm.,  iU.  55. 

■Mi.ctaKL«<T:B.U. 

Ck>Uot>er.  J>a>b.  «.  ftti 

(aali.i.5). 

oate. !««.  i.  in.                          , 

i^buubon.  «.  ISO. 

nJ.-.a.HtT.r.-JAJ.fc<W.              ■ 

i-kii]                  3MH 

rliBupin,  H.  7S. 

chu>«ilu>c.  i».  4*1.' 

K.  WO;  t.  £77.            ^^^1 

rbi«.  Hi.  337 ;  i*.  US. 

cock-Aoot.  B.  »3.         ^^^1 

pturi^.    tlie    MWUble't,    t. 

Cockpit.  <k.  ruw  dn^^H 

138. 
phAm,  in.  a3. 

c^^ElTii^'^H 

ch.tn.  ..  «}. 

«>d,ri«e,  iriiM  MKk  ^-^^H 

Ciuunioo.  iu.  ill ;  t.  540. 

^^H 

chart.  Ui.  SOS. 

c«g.  i.  2iSi  ii.617;  ir.  «T!          ■ 

cbmon,  ii.  6«. 

I.  71.  fi7B.                                     1 

(4»nt.lraichen.   podo  on. 

U  81  :  iu.  SS. 

eop.  W.  123.                                    J 

rbewitt.  iii.  373. 

Cabs.  old.  iii.  300 ;  r.»^  aj.          ■ 

diick,  i.  279. 

&  fer.  i.  Uxi.]             ^^^H 

Coie-Hirtxmr.u.iSi  i^.^^^H 

cliiU>,  ii).  51*. 

^^^H 

cUMlMt.  it  381. 

ooU.  UL  260.                     ^^^H 

rhittiaau,  i.  MO. 

•KMt,^.  X.                         ^^^M 

(^binjr.  i.  236. 

collowe.1.  u.                     ^^^H 

CWdng    ia»g   ind  Q«M. 

colon.  Ui.  S03;  it.  n.    ^^^H 

>.  III. 

crUma,  ii.                         ^^^H 

Combe  Park.  iL  !M  ;  «.<^^^H 

'hriiom,  il.  276. 

come  cut  fid  h>i>K  faul.  <^^^l 

INDEX  TO 

come  aloft,  Jack.  iii.  112  ;  ir. 

123. 
come  off  ronndly,  iii.  tlS. 
commodity,  it  361. 
commonly,  taking  up  a,  i. 

4S0. 
connnon  place,  ii.  336;  it.SS. 
companions,  ii.  26  ;  iii.  27. 
oamplement,  ii.   333 ;    [and 

Ad.  &  Cor.  i.  brrii.] 

conceit,  i.  lS7i  iii.  393;  v. 

42. 
conceitedly,  i.  179- 
conclurioni,  iii.  259  i  W.  1 23 ; 

V,  520. 
condition,  i.  Si. 


.  150;  iu.  292; 
iv.  23S  i  T.  14. 

conaort,  i.  75;  ii.  127;  Iii. 
211. 

coiuter,  iii.  6t;  t.  aST. 

contain,  i.  357  i  ii.  315. 

cODveyance,  ii.  2911 1  t.  617. 

cony,  Iii.  31f. 

aony-ctOchiDg,  i.  290 ;  ii.  67  ; 
iii.  16 ;  iv.  134  ;  t.  195. 

ooDy-akini,  ii.  123. 

copy,  iii.  401. 

oorago,  ii.  533. 

coranto-pace,  iii.  627. 

Cornelianiua  Dolium,  attri- 
buted to  t{andol|>h,  most 
prolubly  n-ritten  by  Brath- 

Comeliua'  dry-hto.  i.  230; 

[and  Ad.  &  Cor.  i.  Ixii.] 
Comeliuii'  tub,  ii.  160. 
Comiab  hng,  iii.  4S(). 
Comiah  cliongb.  iii.  481. 
coronet,  t.  277. 
corpi,iT.32;  \»niAd.tcCsT. 


i.  I 


'=;] 


i.  193. 


coted,  ii.  342. 
cotqaeiuu,  ii.  i86. 
cottena.  ii.  ISO;  v. 
cooght,  T.  468. 


cracked  in  the  ring,  ii.  3S3 ; 


p  nng,  I 


519. 


crank,  ii.  IS. 
cried,  iv.  5<I5. 
Crismaa,  Garret,  ».  2M. 
cross    OD    coins,   i.   246 ;    ii. 

122;  iii.  tits, 
cross,  creeping  to  the,  ii.  114. 
cross.biter,  ii.  260. 
cros>-Uya,  v.  642. 
crowd,  i.  110. 
cruel  garters,  v.  f  IS. 
cmiadofs,  lit.  S3, 
cock,  ii.  568. 
cocking-itool.  ii.  IBS. 
cue,  T.  645. 
coition,  y.  534. 
collis,  U.  151)  Ui.  271;  i*. 

338. 


mirbcrt,  ii.  5*6. 
inriotu,  i.  SlT:  ii.  403. 
Curtain,  the,  t.  SSfi. 
i-arttl,  i.  237  t  ui.  38. 
custard,  n  love-prewnt,  i.  Hi. 
coBlode.  IT.  311. 
cut,  i.  SOS. 

cut  ben  vhidt.  ii.  542. 
rutted,  i.  20S ;  ii.  666. 
cjprets,  T.  49. 


di^,  i.  349;  U.  352. 
D««ger.|>iea,  i*.  48S. 
duggered  inn*,  iil.  £3. 
[dsnce  in  a  net,  Ad.  &  Cor.  i. 

daailyprat,  i.  246  ;  iil.  590. 
dare  larks,  iii.  12S. 
daw,  i.  307. 
dead  ptyB,  Ir.  434. 
dear,  i.  189. 
dearer,  iii.  307. 
deareat,  ir.  4E6. 


defr,i.  GISi  u.97i  iU.  iHt 

IT.  lis. 
deU,  ii.  338i  iii.  606. 

Denmark -House,  t.  166. 
departed,  T.  533. 
Derrick's  necklaces,  t.  515. 
descried,  i.  S2(S, 
devotion,  v.  62. 
DirgD,  don.  i.  293. 
Digbf,  sir  Ereiard.  alluxion 

to  bis  c«ecution.  i.  451. 
dill.  IT.  167. 
diminiting,  iii.  45R, 
diMosed,  i.  450;  iU.  812. 
disgest.  ii.  250 1  iii.  454:  iv. 

200 ;  T.  3S4. 
dUliked,  IT.  570. 
dislacale  thy  bladud,  iii.  509. 


ditch,  ii.  315. 

dive^pper,  ii.  87  i  iii-  59U. 

DiTelin,  ir.  500. 

do  witfaal.  IT.  20. 

DoddipoU,  doctor,  ii.  ISS. 

Dotp,  Isle  of,  ii.  535. 

door-keeper,  t.  525. 

doabti,  ii.  57. 

Dowland's  Lacrjnue,  t.  IS. 

dresser,    cook    knockinf   OD, 

&c.,  L  247. 
drink  tohaoco,  iL  457 ;  iii.  213. 
drunk,  iii.  162. 
drr-fiated,  iii.  39. 
duke,  t.  17T. 
dumb-ahow,  n.  361. 
DunoM,  iv.  52. 
Dunklrks,  iiL  132;  t.  10. 
Dutch  slap.  ii.  472. 
Dutch  widow.  U.  SO. 

earns,  iii.  503. 
eat  soakEB,  iii.  140. 
Ebusui,  iv.  401. 
egrimonj',  t.  196, 
Egypt,  child  of,  iii.  361. 
eke,  ti.  167. 
eU,  i.  278  :  iii.  624. 
elephant  and  camels,  the,  it. 

lae. 

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

4117. 
eU.  iv.  +41. 
enginer,  v.  248. 
enginoua,  t.  316. 


BBtridge,  T.  239. 
Europa's  BeB.fami,  ii.   178 1 
[■od  Ad.  it  Car.  i.  lirL] 


^■^^H 

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

INDEX  TO  THE                                                 620        ^^f 

Euphuiic.  T.  seu. 

^^H 

cxereisc,  i.  211;  ii.  IS3. 

Digbi,                               ^^^M 

time.  U.                                       ^^H 

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

fadom.  ii.  387. 

^^^M 

fadge,  U.  BT. 

fiorena.  iv.  2S6.                           ^^^M 

fiigiry,  ii.  53fl. 

fbi>ta.  ii.  £46;  iv.  118.               ^^^H 

ftiir,  y.  360. 

fbnd,  i.  268  ;  ii.  449  ;  Hi.  18  i     ^^^H 

fsirrfoodilioned,  T.  SSi. 

318                                     ^^^H 

Ml*,  or  faUing  bindi.  ii.  218, 

fondlj.  u.  343.                            ^^^M 

438 ;  iii.  S7. 

rondoesi,  iii.  S91.                       ^^^H 

laniUiar.  ii.  4B2:  [ani  Ad.  & 

fooCcloUu,  i.   396;    ii.   369;      ^^^M 

Cor.  L  bnri.] 

iii.   194;    [ani  Ad.  &.  Cor.     ^^^M 

Family  of  Lore,  account  of, 

i.  liviii.]                                      ^^^M 

U.  103,  IS6;  iv.  437. 

^^^M 

fancy,  ii.  B7  i  ii.  45B. 

tor  and.  iii.  S44.                             ^^^H 

far.  iv.  «)2. 

foreflnger.  the,  i.  32S.                   ^^^H 

farcsla,  iv.  il2. 

former.                                             ^^^M 

Fortane,  the,  ii.  435.                    ^^^M 

ee. 

far-fet.  T.  376. 

'found,  iii.  IIS.                          ^^^H 

1             fiuhom,  i.  41Sl  ii.  334. 

foutra,                                        ^^^H 

■  (kt-sug  chin,  V.  514. 

■  holt,  1.  62. 

fiued,  i.  313    i*.  142.               ^^^H 

frampote,      140.                        ^^^^1 

r>          Faiutiui,  doctor,  T.  SIS. 

franked,  iv.  401.                        ^^^M 

■             fiwr.  il.  401  (  iii.  467- 

&tsh-»0Duui,  iv.                        ^^^M 

'ftection,  V.  97. 

frippery,  ii.  222.                           ^^^^^H 

fegarr,iY.  IIS. 

^^H 

fclfare,  iy.  429. 

froaling.       69.                              ^^^^1 

(at.  iii.  67. 

^^^H 

Br.  the.  iii.  421. 

fnimped.  ii.  517.                           ^^^M 

fiK-fnUli.  U.  287. 

fUL-UB,  iii.                                                ^^^H 

ftggiog-U*,  ii.  5+4. 

figient.iT.  61. 

_            filed,  U.  289. 

gallant,  ii.  543  ;  iii,  193,                ^^H 

I             find.  i.  237. 

galleai,H».ii,  19.                                           ■ 

■           fire.drolH».ii,  267. 

galley-foiil,  u.  S31 ;  iu.  212.                      I 

■            first  |Mrt  of  a  gncceisful  play 

galliard,  i.  6S  :  in.  631.                               ■ 

gally-gaK:ojM,  iii.  405.                              d 

■               tecoDd  put.  iii.  4ns. 

■           fi.t.iU.  71. 

gamboU.  v.                                      ^^^1 

■           fltlen,  ii.  48. 

gameater,  iii.  274.                          ^^^H 

■           flag  on  a  theatre,  ii.  332. 

gander- mconen.  iii.  S3B.            ^^^H 

r           flap-dragon.   i.   66;    ii.   09 ! 

gardcn-houK.i.  162;iil.  18Si      ^^H 

iii,  112. 

586                                          ^^^M 

^^I^^BH 

H             630                           IKDEX  TO  THE                                                   ^^^ 

^1             Gwden-liDll.iT.  230. 

Gougb,  Aluutder.  iii.  311. 

^r               gitcoyoB-btide.  ii.  SiS. 

gown,  a  looM-bodied,  i.  431; 

^"                 giBonynea,  V.  567. 

fd.  67  i  V.  625. 

gutrulopUe,  iii.  S(7. 

Gnnthaoi  Meeple,  v.  S23. 

g»udj-day«.  ».  5iS. 

great,  the,  i.  4!»2. 

nDdy-ihini*,  W.  16. 

g«u-,  i.  373;  U.  87  i  ii.  'i; 

^                     Y.  iSO. 

Gnxks.  mud,  iii.  S6. 

K              gdt  feather.,  ii.  527. 

Greene.  Roliert.i.290iT.SSl- 

GrHham'l  Bnrae.  iv.  IG. 

H                    ii.  4I2.45S. 

grincom™.  iL  121. 

H                george.  iv.  498. 

grinds  Id  the  mill,  iii.  221. 

H              Oermxi  clock,  ii.  3SS. 

ETowt,  iv.  164. 

^H                Germsn,    the  high,   U.   Mti  ; 

gmtdied.  iv.  473. 

■                  [uid  v4</.  ft  Cor.  i.  UTiu.] 

guanled.  lU.  236. 

^r                GenuHnii,  i«.  118. 

gne«.i.8U6;  ii.  flS  ;  v.  6l« 

^               gib.  ii.  ai8. 

Guiana,  voyage  to,  iv.  426, 

ciglot,  ii.  IIJ!. 

guitonens,  ir.  324. 

giU,U.llfii  iT.77i  «.H8. 

gnlei.  iiL  01 ;  i*.  158. 

gilt,  or  gelt.  U.  W. 

gulled,  iv.  381- 

gin.  i.  288. 
^H                 ging,  u.  932;  iv.  141. 
K               gii?,  ii.  130. 

gummed.  iv.  4+3. 
Gilttide,  ii.  IS9, 

^M             girl  worth  gold,  ii.  523, 

^H              givcD  the  bu.  iv.  410. 

^H                give*  aim,  ii.  33S  ;  iii.  453  ; 

hood.  iv.  483. 

^H 

hair.  agaiDat  the.  i.  163 1  iii. 

H              gloEien,  ii.  535. 

377 ;  T,  11). 

H              gleek.  V.  142. 

halfm«n><i.  U.  382. 

H              gkuy-ikt,  V.  517. 

bangen.  ii.  227 1  iii.  ISa ;  v. 

H              god-den,  !v.  19. 
H               GodevB,  iv.  490. 

567. 

barticbalka,  T.  39. 

H               God's  a  good  mui,  ii.  475. 

Uarvev,  Gabriel,  Richard,  uid 

H               God's  mjr  pittikiiiB.  iu.  37. 

John.  V.  eei. 

■              GodVunlT.iii.  114. 
H               goldfinch,  1.  233. 

hui,  i,  72. 

hast.  V.  483. 

hatcht,  u.  2ST. 

■                  ii.  297. 

haut.  ir.  135. 

H               golls,  i.206;  ii.  452;  lU.  13  i 

B           ■"•  33  • ''-  ^33- 

3Sg :  V.  42. 

B              gom.  iii.  359. 

haj.  iv.  587. 

B        B°°d>  ">'  '^<ic- 

heal,  iii,  278. 

B                good  fellow,  u.  21  i  iii.  19  j  ; 

heailh-driuking.  fonni  in.  ui. 

■ 

29. 

H              gouip,  i.  480. 

healths  in  uriDC,  ii.  99. 

^^^H^^^l  ^^^1 

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

^,.„„ 

HE    NOTES.                               631 

be»r«.  it.  501. 

incBBtancy,  i.  268. 

incoiants,  v.  44S. 

Ad.KCor.\.\ii.] 

hem,  iii.  S23. 

iv.  283. 

beoch-boj,  ii.  159. 

incony.  L  252. 

Hero  uid  Leonder,  Hulowe'a. 

in  dock,  out  DMtle,  iu.  611  ; 

ii-SV). 

V.  ISO. 

huVmni,  ii.  313. 

ingle,  i.  262,  ii.fil7. 
ingle,!.  301;  it.  498;  Ui.  15. 

hight.  i.  192;  V.  296. 

inkling,  V.  497. 

injury,  ii.  280. 

HireD.  i.  76. 

innocence.  Iv.  2!I9. 

ho.  i.  287. 

innocent,  iv.  451  i  v.  500. 

ho.  th^rc'inn.  iii.  106. 

inn-panble  kntve,  i.  324. 

Uobfon,  IT.  7  ;  t.  fiSHi. 

instance,  ii.  119. 

hole,  ii.  400. 

inward.  i.44fl-,u.  234. 

Hole,  the,  i.  392 :  ii.  69;  iii. 

Ireland,  purged  from  veooin- 

376;  T.  101. 

ou!  creatures  by  St,  Patrick, 

HoUmtide.  ii.  165. 

iii.  177:  It.  495. 

honey-lingned.  t.  177. 

Irish,  ii.  528. 

Horn,  the,  V.  574. 

!rL.hrootnieD,iii.l31;  V.531. 

horns  for  the  thnmb.  ii.  636. 

darts    carried 

hotse  and  fcmt.  i.  SBO. 

by,  iii.  530. 

bone,  Banks'!,  ..  iSS. 

Ivd,  ui.  539. 

hofie-trick,  i.  63. 

ivy-bush  of  a  tavern,  iv.  177, 

ho«,  i.  367t  ii.  150;  iU.  67  i 

i-wis.  i.  451. 

iT.  38!)  i  V.  128. 

I  wuB,  i.  327. 

how.  in  your  t'other,  n.  145. 

[hoiqiM.  J-*-  *  Car.  i.  loii.] 

jack,  i.  255. 

hoipital-buyB,  i.  497. 

jaeki.  iv.  627. 

HiUdrick,  his  Epistle  to  Ni- 
cholii>,.iv.  407  ;  [uid  Ad. 

jacks,  iii.  112;  v.  003. 

&  Or.  i.  UriT.] 

Janivero,  Ui.  94. 

javri,  iii.  157. 

•rlule  bis  irife  is  breeding, 

jeelions,  iv.  326. 

iv.  S99. 

jealons,  ii.  216)  v.  61. 

IgDstiiu  Lorala,  iv.  310. 

jeiffiei,  V.  369. 

■             [IU  May-diiv,  Ad.  &  Cor.  i. 

jeta.  iiL  147:  W.  167;  v- 21. 

L    .  "^-^     .„ 

jiga.  V.  669. 

jig-makera.  iii.  10. 

■  improve,  iv,  420  i    t,   £61; 

■  imd  Ad.  Sl  Cor.  i.  Inii.] 

iobbering,  ii.  534- 

■         in-uid-iD,  V.  142. 

V.  553. 

^K                632                          IRBEI  TO  TUB  NOTES.                                                H 

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

kurming^j.  it.  38.                          ■ 

ky«.ii.«S.                                       1 

1 

^M                    Butholomrw  Fair  rxylna- 

Uced  mutton,  i.  230.                                ' 

^B                     ed,  1.  51fi. 

^1                 Judas  nith  tbe  red  bevd.  it. 

l«nnu^,  IT.  184. 

H                jugll,  iii.  tso. 

283 ;    [u>d  J.f.  &  Cor.   i. 

■                    jXn,  iY.  40Z. 

Irii.] 

^B                   jDlinB  Ccnr,  motiOD  of,  T. 

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

^B 

Urge.  1.  iii.  635. 

^1                   jiint.  ii.  flii. 

Iwigh  and  lie  down,  i.  269. 

lavender,  in,  ii.  150. 

^1                    k>  me.  ka  thee.  iii.  E72. 

Uvolta,  i.  351 ;  iiL  628. 

^B                    keep  a  door,  iii.  184. 

lay,  iii.  23. 

^B                    fcMii  4;<il  with,  iii.  Sn. 

hiying.  ii.  Ill  iv.  74. 

H             k«r,»,  i.  vn. 

Leatica,  iu.  213. 

■                    k«>,  U.  129. 

leek,  iii  200. 

leeaing,  I  263 ;    b.  301  ;    iiL 

H                  kem,  m.  174. 

28. 

^B                   tl'^"7  ""^  '"'*■  ■*<'■  *  '^'"'■ 

leetoanr,  n.  131. 

■                       i.  Uil-l 

leg«,  iii  84;  iv.  601;  ».  673. 

H                      keramed,  i.  429. 

leijM,  ii.ai6i  «.  524. 

B                       KenmSB.  V.  IS!*. 

leman,  iv.  182. 

■                       kerilen,  iv.  38. 

lerry,  L  281. 

K                       ketterf,  t.  643  i    [and  Ad.  & 

let,  1.  tS9. 

■                           C«r.  i.  luvi.] 

letK.iL41JSi  iU.877i  v.  31. 

■                       kiffnorfcin.  iv.  66. 

lewd,  L  498. 

■                    klnchia  mort,  Ii.  S3S. 

Uberal.  iL  190;  v.  601. 

■                    kind,  U.  3S2;  it.  372. 

lie,  L  300:  Ijuid  Ad.  &  Cor. 

LbdiL] 

B                  kii.  ii.  4;  iv.  4. 

lib  ken.  iL  639. 

H                     Kiuvei,  orden  of,  U.  174. 

Ufterg,  iL  546. 

^B                     kneeling  after   the    pliT,   ii. 

like,  i  132;   ii.  47 ;   iilSn-. 

■                          418iiv.  202. 

iv.  leSi  V.  64. 

^M                   kneeling  in  health- drinking. 

iimb-Uftor,  E  206. 

■                           iii.  216. 

Ijmbo,  V,  fil4. 

■                    knight  of  the   |ic»t.  i.  3UB ; 

Iin,iil429;  jv.51;  v.  533.                   1 

■ 

linstock,  ii  331.                                   J 

K                   knight  of  Windsor,  ii.  336. 

Lipiiaa.  It.  250.                                 J 

H                   Knight's   w>rd,   i.   302;    ii. 

H                      2'.i7  :  iv.  !I6. 

liver,  il  133.                                      ■ 

H                     knighta      crested     b;     King 

loath  to  depart,  L  80.                        ■ 

H                       Jimes,  BlIUBion  to,  ii.  333, 

log]  for  Chriatmai,  L  457.                 ■ 

^B                   bureen,  iv.  H. 

long,  a,  UL  623.                                 V 

LongMie,  u.  S ;  [and  Ad.  & 

Car.  L  liT.] 
loon.  ti.  U7. 


^,m.S2■,  V.  310. 
iL  IS8;   TT.  3S0i 


lycAnthrope, r 


.2*7- 


mue.  oU  of,  ii.  372. 

m^rio,  iv.  407. 

tudc.  h.  244. 

miJe  women,  iL  400. 

mode  sure,  iL  489. 

Modrill,  iv.  104. 

Magw,  IT.  40E. 

Rugot-n'-pie,  iiL  GOB. 

Msin,  St.,  it.  SIO. 

make,  L  401, 

nuke  ■  bglt  or  ■  ihoft  on't, 

U.34. 
nuke  bottoiu,  if.  ISl. 
rosVing,  u.  S3. 
■Diking  read;,  1  'itS  ;  ii.  SZ4  > 

lii.  39G. 
make  unreadf ,  iL  57  ;  iii.  17H, 
mile  ™let,  iii.  77. 
mJichnllj,  iiL  SB. 


muiihet*,  t 


L  1T9. 


;  iu.  as, 


muidrBke,  iiL  13. 
muitiui,  T.  4tf7. 
nuple-fftccd,  ii-  367. 


mtnuowt,  i,  387  <  111.  37  {  t, 

904. 
toMqacae,  iL  74. 
inuty,  mulf,  L  218  i  lii.  10 1 

y,  S93.  I 

muTedi,-iv.  111).  ^m 

Muter-iildfl.i.  gP2l  Ii  >«■ 
nuMer;,  U.  311.  ^V 

mutf,  a  17.  M 

■natch,  1.  4114, 
nuundecBr  upon  tli*  |iiul,  II. 

mumdcring,  U.  04!  I  I*.  13t| 

T.  HB, 
Kuiuiding,  V.  IflT. 
nuui  Bvtx,  lU.  SiO. 
m*w,  fl«e-flD((<r  U,  IL  iVftd 
Mif.butldr,  V,  I'i.  ^ 

Mayur'i  bmob  ■!  Oifardia 

«2S.  ^ 


tsl. 


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

'.II.  I 


Mm  of 
[Mid. 


^i/.  A  r:«i-.  L1«I<.T| 


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


Mttmm,  III.  OM, 


^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H 

^m                 6S4                          UCDEX  TO  THE  XOTES.                                 ^^^ 

^H                 [Midsumner  watch,  A4.   & 

My-«™-h«,-piggcd.T.  143.                1 

^H                     Cor.  i.  Lcxtl} 

mysteri«,  iL  5U7.                                     ■ 

^M                 Milhin,  hi>  imiution  of  Hiy- 

1 

^H                     wo«],  i.  3J0. 

Mperj,  UL  SG. 

NMb,    ThomM,     hii   Kctct 
Penmie»e,ir.  511.512. 

^1                     dletoti,  iT.  SIS. 

^H                  minded,  i.  IT9. 

,    d*te    of   hi. 

^M                    mioikm.  ii.  t-27. 

deith,  ».6!7!  Imai  AK.i,f 

^M                  MitTi>iofKiiighcha(Nl,iii.I8l. 

UUUIehH  nd  til  IFcrft, 

^M                    Mirror  of  MugutratM,  i.  238. 

i.  wiii.] 

^H                  Miinite,  Lord  of,  i.  SOS. 

w.  L  421 

^H                     mitirera,  T.  66. 

neut*.  L  417. 

^H                  Mitre,  the.  iL  240  ;  i.  S7«. 

ncck-vciw.  >.  126. 

^1                  HinJdni,  hii  Secreti  in  Nb- 

needle,  iv.  403. 

^B                     tore,  iv.  £63. 

needle-burded,  t.  I9B. 

^H                  aionrf  dropt  into  shoes  b; 

ne'er  the  new.  v.  3SS.                          , 

^H                      fiuriea,  iil  609. 

nemli  tout  aaaa.  L  193.                     M 

^B                  monkcT'g  ordinur,  ir.  369. 

NewnicbUekdagtof.T.SII.             ■ 

^1                  Moniieur,  iL  389  ;  t.  519. 

New-luigle.  v.  S64.                            ■ 

■                  monOilf ,  ii  652. 

Dice.  i.  136.                                         ■ 

H                   man,  L  432. 

nicely,  v.  S6.                                       1 

H                      mother,  L  186;  iii  41. 

niceneu,  L  I8d ;  iL  134  ;  iiL             1 

H                      notioti,i  22<l;ii19;  v.S9l. 

451  i  IT.  3ia 

H                      Motte,  Moniieur,  L  ISO. 

nigget.  i».  247. 

H                      moul,  V.  419, 

night-nuk,  L  Ifl4. 

H                      Mount,  the,  iii.  4S2. 

wgnim,  T.  411. 

B                      (nought,    i.   495;   ii.  S6i    ui. 

NineTcb,  Diotiaa  of,  j.  329 : 

■ 

iv.  188;  T,  891. 

■                   mouw,  ii  137. 

ningles.  iL  498;  iii  60;  iv. 

■                   mach.  i.  3o7. 

171;    [uid  Ad.  Sc  Cor.  i 

ixii.]                                                1 

■                   muckinder,  ii.  83. 

nipa,  iL  54«.                                       M 

nipiDfGtifiis.  iii259.                        ■ 

■                   mullwiDee,  L  391. 

nipping  Chriatian,  ii.  S3S.                  ■ 

■                    Mutr  Crass  ohee.iT.  161. 

no,  L   169;  iL  538  1  iiL  238;              ■ 

IT.  43;  <,  119.                                      1 

■                    MundiT,  AathoDT,  v.  219. 

noble,  iL  17;  iii.  271:  >.  267.             1 

nock,  i.  282.                                          1 

noddy,  i.  273)  y.  142.                             J 

■                       murrion,  iiL  US. 

Doiu  Of  Gddlen.  E  493;  ui              1 

303  ;  Y.  529.                                        ■ 

■                    muM.  iL  379  i  it.  122. 

nonce.  iL  71:  t.  S92.                         ■ 

■                    muttoii.iii.  lD3,iT.  23. 

northern  dozens,  i  172.                        ■ 

^H                      munon-moager,  iiL  162. 

noul,  iT.  142.                                           ■ 

■                      My-lady'.-hole.v.  143. 

X  TO  IHB  NOTES. 


O  mm  in  lament&tioii,  U.  64. 

obtTEct,  iii.  SOS. 

of,  iii  a56  1  iv.  386  ;  T.  SSI. 

of  croes.  iii  Stilt. 

oil  of  ben,  iii  36li. 

old,  il  S3S  1  IT.  S70. 

Oliver,  iweet,  iii  40. 

opinion,  iL  S37> 

Conrngodo,  Ad.  &  Cor.  i  In.] 

Orata.  Si-rgiaa,  iv.  402. 

ordinary,  Biipennir,&c..L  389; 

».  72. 
□rdinary,  gsmbling  at,  i  434 ; 

iv.  4^7. 
organ!  diililud  bj  pnrilatu, 

ii  1A3;  It.  488. 
0«tead,  ^ege  of,  iii  7S. 
otherg^,  i  240. 
0  Toole,  iii  520. 
ought,  JT.  487  ;  *.  28. 
out-crjf,  ir.  J8. 
over  I  vai,  iii.  410. 
orer-braTo,  t.  167. 
orerflowD,  i  390. 
OTcrture,  ii  112. 
owes,  i  271;  it.  204;  t.  SS. 
owt  in  an  iij-biufa,  to  look 

lilie  an,  It.  177. 

{lair  of  organs,  ii  346;  iii  147. 

pair  of  Tii]{ina]»,  iii  211. 

pack,  ii  447- 

painted  cloth,  iii  97;  t.  208. 

palliard,  U.  S4I. 

panada,  iii  271. 

pined  how,  L  2S ;  [and  Ad, 

&  Cor.  i  liL] 
Fancridge,  iii  £46. 
pantaloon,  It.  173. 
{laDtsplcs.  i  286. 
paotolleii,  iii  111  ;  iv.  483. 
parbreaking,  T.  73. 
parcel -rascals,  T.  ISO. 


ParloDS  Pood,  ii.  409. 


paaaionaU,  t.  S93. 
paaaianateiji  i  35. 
Patrick.   St.,  hia   Purgatorf, 
iii  131  ;  ir.  475. 

Eity,  T.  aOa. 
iQl'*  Saint.  Middle  Aide  of, 
I  41Sl  iiSgO;  T.  494. 
pavin,  i  237. 
pax.  a  24. 

pear- coloured,  iii.  109. 
pearl  io  the  eje,  iv.  123. 
pectoral,  T.  'itia. 
pedlar'i  French,  ii   193.539. 
peeii^,  ii.  78  ;    iii  fi35  ;   t. 

as. 

pccp>,  T.  £81. 

pegmn,  t.  310  ;  [and  Ad,  fc 

for.  i  UiTi.] 
peiie,  ii.  142:  iii  62, 
pelt,  iv.  219. 
pelican  feeding  H»  young  with 

ber  blood,  iii  US. 
peaance,  iv.  108. 
|)eiwiled,  V.  209. 
penny-fBther,  t.  £30; 
Po'ryn,  iii  o39. 
perceiverance,  iii  3H8, 
percullis,  iii.  102. 
perfurmenti,  iv.  313. 
periwig!  vom  by  ladiea,   ii 

30(i. 


^^^^|H 

636                          IKDBX  to  TMS  K0TE8.                                              ^ 

Petcr-auneene,   iij    213;    W. 

314. 

poor-John.  i.  S43. 

pitroael,  ii.  151. 

Wtronai.  St.  W.  3101  [end 

populooi,  ii.  34B. 
porter,  the  long,  ■».  1*4. 

Ad.  &  Tor.  i.  Uiiii] 

Philip.  >  nunc  for  i  sparrao, 

poSH't*  eUen  jnst  before  bed- 

iil 38S. 

time,  iii.  814. 

'poatle -spoon*,  iv  47- 

phraBipel.  ii,  til. 

poBtg  U  a  sheriff's  door,  iii. 

■licludill,  T.  171. 

58. 

pickaroat,  ir.  IIH. 

uoBller'i.  ik  4fi  1  iv.  72  i  ». 

pick.  iY     11. 

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

14U. 

Ponltrr.  T.  SSI. 

PigwiM.  the  Thn*.  ii  479. 

practice,  L  160. 

plgsnie.  a  468. 

pr™kioBnp,iv.59. 

piUo-beera  i».  Sli. 
hMingM^nduil,  iT.  53. 

preued,  L  129. 

precept,  i.  308. 

pUt.  il  480  i  IT.  282  i  V.  18. 

prrtend,  iv.  270. 

pi>tol«.  or  pistolra,  iii.  G3. 

pment.L16;iL49!iiLlll3i 

piirtolet.  iT.  U6. 

iv.  911;  T.  28*. 

pilch  and  psT.  i.  242- 

prick,  T.  186. 

pUcket,  ih  4S7  ;  iil.  S41 :  iv. 

prick  and  praiw.  ix.  133;  iv. 

4*7. 

586. 

pl>p,yram™er.v-518. 

pricklc-ringinj.  V.  584. 

pLdc»,  wrj  moDth  like  >.  uL 

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

153. 

T.  583. 

prigging,  ii.  62. 

Ad.  and  for.  L  Uvi  ] 

plaj  prize,  iiL  86. 

pUy  at  barriera.  ii  1S9. 
[please  ji>u  be  here,  Ad.  & 

princoeka.  t.  494l 

print,  in,  i.  278;  iii  la. 

for.  E.  Ldx.] 

r                     plot.  T.  352. 

pluok  ■  rose.  iv.  223. 

prog™».  iv.  23. 

plunge,  a  511;  iii.  604. 
Plymouth  cloak,  iii.  179. 

pramoter.  iiLlID;  iv.  91. 

pocaa  pakbru,  u.  546 

proper.  J.  330;   iiL  47;   iv. 

_                    points,  1.  214 1   ii   19fi  ;    y. 

244 :  T  75. 

■                        531. 

propertv.  iii  640;  v.  39. 

H                  poker,  iil  35. 

■                  poking-rtick.,  i.  279. 

V.  308. 

H                  poltfoot,  lu,  109  :  T.  G34. 

H                     Polycarp.  iv.  310. 

[prophet,  the  new. -4d,&  Cor. 

\  Uxi,.] 

IMDBX  TO  THE  NOTES. 


PriMpero,  ».  Sl!£. 
pDMtitates  Bnpping  with  the 

plajera.  ii.  412. 
pnnsnt,  iiL  528. 
prormnt  breeches,  ii.  489. 
pruned,  it.  23S. 
pnlmograph,  v.  177. 
puck-fout,  lii.  010. 
padding  tobieco,  ii.  39!  ;  iii, 

S12. 
pngganb,  ii.  546. 
pullen,  iL  242 1  iu.  606 ;  IT.  US. 
porchue,  i,  319;  ii.  231  ;  iii, 

199. 
pntli,  T.  587. 

poraeneti,  ii.  617  ;  iii.  207. 
puih,  1.  29;  U.  24;  ii.  259: 

V.  M. 
pniiU,  Iv.  32*. 
put  on.  iv.  17. 
pat  up.  i.  290  ;  iii.  S63. 
puttDcIu,  1).  500. 

[qludnuigiilarpliiiiisdoa,iJif. 

&  Cor.  i.  Iixii.] 
qoail.pipe,  ui.  144. 
qsail-pipe  boot,  1.  244. 
qnarreli,  iii.  4B2. 
qiuiter-jaclu  in  Paul's ,  v.  5  54. 
qneaijr,  i.  321;  ii.  23«. 
QuMnhiTe,  U,  37. 
qneer  ennn,  il.  539, 
QaeM-bODK,  iv.  425. 
qnertuBiy,  ii.  188. 
quit,  iii.  4U2. 
qnit,  iii.  495  ;  t.  38. 
qnil,  iv.  346  ;  t.  94. 
quo',  i.  4S4. 


read;,  iii.  35. 
real*,  iv.  170. 
rw,  It.  381  1  V.  192. 
reclaim,  iv.  428. 
recordera,  iv.  93. 
reouUisuicc,  i.  483. 
reduce,  iii.  494. 
red  lattice,  v.  539. 
red  letter,  ii.  ISS. 
Red-ahonks.  iU.  481. 
reeks,  iii.  266. 
rerDL-ilUtian,  u.  371. 
reftue,  v.  118. 
remembered,  be,  ii.  526. 


i.  4S4. 

i.  131  i 


I.  sn. 


remorHiful,  v.  582. 
Reeolution,  the,  ii.  340. 
resolved,  i.  215:  fl,  23; 

101  1  IT.  7t:  V.  36. 
respective  I  i.  425. 
respective!;,  ii.  235  -,  iii.  ' 


re«t,  s 


i.  516. 

;up. 


.  428. 


Hargt,  i 

Richards.  Nathaniel,  iv.61S. 

Rider's  Dictionuy,  iv.  66  j 

[and  Ad.  &  Cor.  i.  liiUi.] 


ring,  nuining  at  the,  i.  390 ; 

ii.  207;  iii-  172;  «.  262. 
ring,  tread  the,  i.  300. 
rings,  gilt,  coiening  with,  It. 

I6S. 
rise,  V.  311. 

risse,  i.  465  :  ii.  360  ;  v.  368. 
riven  dish,  ii.  517. 
rivo,  i.  243. 

rouing  bojs,  ii.  427 ;  iii.  483. 
Roaring  Girl,  the,  account  of, 

ii.  427. 


"^"^^^^H 

638                           IKDIX  TO  TliK  SOTU.                                         1 

nib..  L  Hi. 

Suietiw.  ftt.  IT.  403. 

roc,  If.  1».  311. 

Koch,  81.,  Iv.  310  i  [laiAd. 

•apt.  IT.  402. 

A  Cor.  1.  LuiU.l 

ntircdaji,  t.  482. 

Bad»Ur.  li.  120. 

ropUon,  U.  130. 

«Tin-tr«.  ir.  321. 

roU,  ill.  5l£. 

B.TOT,  the,  iL  233. 

Romv,  ni  to,  wiOi  >  nu>rur. 

«,.  ;.  263. 

IT.  135. 

widJ.  iiL  15.  41. 

rope  for  p«wt.iii.  113. 

roTKniMj.  I.  231 :  lu.  ISl. 

SciTophorioii.  i.  50;  ■iHJ,4<f. 

roK-iiobk.  ii.  253. 

&  Car.  i.  liL] 

R»a  oil  ihoM,  il.  AU. 

.conco.  i.  283. 

round,  lh«,  ii.  1»0 1  Ui.  25S ! 

•oopknu,  T.  SOI. 

Iv.  587. 

uom  the  motioD,  1.  171;  iii. 

roand*rith.  ii.  341. 

606. 

rouDdH,  li.  381)  t.530. 

nmm,  1.  391. 

rout,  ii.  200. 
TOtC.  iii.  hi. 

Knrtfmxxmj  Tunej.  i.  129; 

[•nd  Ad.  &  Tor.  i.  Uj..] 

[row,  the.  Ad.  Si.  Cor.  i,  tiiv-] 

Mirclwr*.  i.  491. 

rowi,  ».  462. 

Kct,  ii.  134. 

Rowie;,  WiUiua,  iii.  446, 

uck,  to,  i.  189 ;  iii.  59S. 

Rawte.  old,  v.  S40. 

Mxl;,  T.  392. 

roT^,i.345i  il.43i  t.  572, 
n>b«.  ..  G6. 

wductheU,  i.  7. 

Stlkoger'.  nxind,  t.  578. 

niffler,  U.  537. 

Kt   Uie  hire'i   head  to  the 

rub.,  it.  1*. 

EOOM-iiblet,  ii.  7B. 

RumboU.  St..  i..  3S». 

nwcr,  Y.  260. 

runu,  iT.  66. 

nubM,  i.  134  1  iT.  54. 

di.g.b<riiTd.iii.  173. 

ncklnita.  i.  177;  1>.  120. 

270  1    ii.   203,   331,  36a. 

Hd,  i,  316. 

386i  Ui.  56,  79.  213;  [ud 

Hdneai.  ii.492:  iii.  430  i  iv. 

..4d.  Si  Cbr.  i.  Ini.,  Iiii.] 

601. 

^pr»,  V.  209. 

S>int  PulcW.,  T.  527. 

ihUT,  ii.  406. 

uker,  iU.  214. 

■bvk-guU,  T.  524. 

nken,  iv.  122. 

■hells,  ii.  543  ;  iu.  182. 

nlomon,  ii.  63S. 

■hittle-cork,  iv.  54. 

■bo«  the  mue,  t.  143. 

405. 

■hopi,  open,  iU.  54  1  iT.44ai 

MlU.  T.  491. 

1.  587. 

SuDilMII.  pUf  of,  ii,  124. 

■bop>.  du-k,  i.  482;  iv.  442. 

Nmcltcd,  T.  465. 

.hovel-board  (hilling,  ii.  531. 

^^^3Hi"9 

^^^^^^^^^^IMBBX  TO  THE  NOTEB.                           flS^^^^^^H 

■quail,  iii.  55  1  V.  575.                     ^^M 

Bhrieri,  ii.  318. 

sqau^.  u.  173.                                     ^H 

Shrore  T<iada.j.  enstoml  OD, 

■qiurei,  u.  124.                                ^^M 

iii.  217i  V.  U7. 

>q>Ut.  V.                                                         ^H 

diro>,  Iii.  29. 

■qaelched,  iv.  410.                           ^^M 

ddemen,  i.  362. 

Bijaire,  iii.  232.                                     ^^M 

logo,  blood-letting  according 

Bqiiireofthebod;r->"'231.              ^^H 

to.  ii.  98. 

BtabliinK  of  irmn,  ti.  99.                   ^^M 

rinqnapace.  iii.  633  ;  h.  bST. 

Btage.  thE  apper,  ii.  12^;  iu.            ^^M 

■imb.  ii.  491 )  iii.  14. 

314;  iv,  5S9j  V.  114.                     ^^M 

stale,  iv.  213.                                         ^^H 

iv.  65i  v.  567. 

Btsle,  ii.                                                  ^^M 

[id«er'«  threiid,  Ad.  &  Car.  i. 

stalled  to  the  rogue,  ii.  541.             ^^H 

Ix..] 

stalling  ken,  ii.  539.                         ^^M 

.ith,  T.  311. 

Btamniel,  v.  198.                                   ^^^H 

uthence,  t.  20S. 

stamp,  iii.  368  ;  iv.  623.                     ^^H 

•kdderitiK,  iii.  535. 

St.nd.rd.tbe,i.438;iv.421;            ^H 

■lull,  iii,  121. 

^^M 

»kilU.  i.  «5. 

Btons,  iv.  381.                                  ^^M 

■Iflti,  ii.  53g. 

Btnrtups,  ii..l75.                              ^H 

■IVit,i.441i  ii.47;  iii.  103; 

^H 

It.  263  (  y.  220. 

gtates,  iv.  306;  v.  177.                      ^^H 

•lip,  ii.  417;  T.  83. 

■lop,  i.  24&;  T.  29. 

tUtates  itapic,  Ii.  123.                  ^^H 

■maikj,  T.  482. 

steaks,  i.  336;  ii.  287.                   ^^H 

steeple,  iii.  149.                                  ^^H 

nibbed,  ii.  257. 

Bten.,  i.  317.                                       ^^H 

•nobbinr,  ii.  377. 

Steven.  V.  371.                                 ^^M 

•omner,  ii.  29. 

stewed  prnnei,  iU.  212.                   ^^H 

•op«.in.wine,  i.  278. 

stock,  i.  259.                                        ^^1 

•ort,  iii.  153  i  V.  43B. 

■oond.  i.  206. 

stool-bBll,  iv.  597.                         ^^H 

•oimded,  V.  602. 

slr^n,  V.  20.                                      ^^H 

■oniedganiel.  iii.  44. 

strangely,  i.  346.                               ^^H 

KTcreigTi,  i.  110;  t.  600. 

■ow-gtilder'i  horn,  r.  569. 
Spuuih  needle,  i.  244. 

strike,  ii.  543.                                ^^H 

striker,  u.  454;  i>.  170.                 ^^H 

Spenicr  lmitat«l,  ii.  339. 

stript.       447.                                 ^^M 

•[dll'd.  *.  437, 

atrossers,  *.  40.                               ^^M 

■pfnr,  i.  174;    u.  369  ^  iv. 

Btrouts.  ii.  531.                               ^^M 

4B. 

■nbetli.  fv.  453.                               ^^H 

■pittle,  H.  465  ;  Ui.  234. 

Hataibm,  ii.  386.                            ^^1 

f|iHt,*n,  H.  518;  iii.  181. 

snckets,  t.  2C2 ;  ill.  143  ;  ir.          ^^1 

■pnwUng,  iU.  SIS. 

^H 

Bpringal,  1.  459  ;  Ui.  631. 

eumner,       525     iv.  429.                   ^H 

^V                  640                       IKDBX  TO  TBK  iroTM.                                      f 

^H                      ■upcTsdchtODt,  V.  no. 

tenn-troUw.  i.  830. 

iCTter,  ii.  477  i  iv.  8  i  «.  UHS. 

^m             niiuue,  ii.  tea. 

tatatx.  I  258 ;  iu.  38. 

^m                    tan  to,  ii.  39. 

thin,  iii.  203. 

^m                    laniirrani.  i.  330. 

tbmki  oad  a  thouund.  i>. 

^M                    ■i»bb<-n,  iii.  ISS. 

S07- 

^B                    (middle,  m.  32. 

third  pile,  to  the,  ii.  343. 

^B                   nng-  u-  36^- 

ThonK-Ca«Ue.  L  180. 

^H                   Swui.  the,  ii.  6*5. 

^H                   nruu  ou  the  Thames,  ii.  GOO. 

thrw-qnarter-Bharer,  T.  563. 

^H                   ■•TRthT  reutinn,  iU.  2G2. 

tiuwster.  >.  170. 

thnun-chinned,  ii.  68. 

^M                   Uhl^e.  W.  440. 

thatDb-DaU,  doing  right  on. 

^M                   table,  i.  31. 

iu.  31. 

^^1                  tabic,  ili.  Ilfl;  iT.43S. 

Cioed.  ii.  386. 

^H^^^    ttble-b<Kika,1.27^l  iil  ISSi 

Tickie-me-quicVly,  T.  143. 

^^^^H 

tire-men.  H.  241. 

^^^^^H   IthMes.      301     ii.  206. 

tire-mroman,  i.  461. 

^^^^^P   lablea, 

tiHng-hoiue,  U.  139.  i.  £!G. 

^^^^■^     tailor.  womaa'E.  i  161. 

Uke  in  enutr.  t  2S». 

to.  i.  204i  iii.  £89i  iv.  533. 

take  roe  with  ;on.  i.  1^1 ;  a 

tobacco  aold  bi  apotliecarii^. 

23. 

ii.  453. 

t«L:(m.  i.  4D1. 

tJ<en  by  eall*nt»  lil- 

[take ual.  .^lif.  &  Cor.  L  Ui\.] 

ting  on  the  itage.  v.  544. 

take  pepper  in  tbe  now:,  i». 

tons,  h.  404. 

173. 

torch-beareri,  U  261. 

take  their  ease  i'  their  inn.  y. 

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

IBS. 

talenter,  t.  I6.i. 

touch,  i.  314:  m.301. 

tsU.  iii.  B3,  581. 

touehrd,  if.  271. 

Tamburlain,  i.  229.  v.  i2C. 

toward,  i.  347:  iv  469. 

Twtary,  ».  52*. 

toward,  i.  171  i  ii.  177:  iii. 

tavem-bitch  has  bit.  Ac,,  ii. 

214;  if.  50. 

83. 

to-who.  iii.  176. 

Towne,  in  actor,  iii.  105. 

ta«.  u  375. 

tor.  i.  37Si  U.  6«!j  iii.  274  ; 

tawnv-coat.  iL  Si7. 

iv.  217. 

tralnoBnt,  v.  316. 

teniente,  Ii.  IIS. 

tenti,  iii.  585. 

t^hed.  a  19. 

tantj-nine,  iii  SST. 

trBverse.,  i  264. 

tomien,  ii.  42,  107,433;  iii. 

treaohpf,  iv.  380. 

254. 

trencher,  ii.  437. 

^^^^^^^^I_^l_^^^^^^^^l             ^^^^1 

^B^^^^^^HHii^^^^^^^^l        ^^^^1 

imixx  TO  THE  miTEs.                   641      ^^^H 

trmcbere,  nonea  on.  x.  40. 

vuiltiDg-houM.  r.  518.                    ^H 

triltibabo.  L  65. 

Teoen,  i.  389.                                      ^^M 

triM  on  tho  cbe.U,  ii.  5*2. 

Tennik,  i.  66.                                       ^^1 

trinmpluh  iy.  -103. 

Tent.  iT.  4*3.                                        ^^H 

.  trow,  U.  Z8 :  IT.  145.  T.  39. 

Tentoy,  i,  251.                                 ^^H 

Trojnoywit.  t.  489. 

Venus   uid   Aionis,   Shake-         ^^H 

tme,  IT.  224. 

ipeare'i.  ii.  840.                         ^^H 

trnem«n,  L  1S8;  iii.  11. 

i.  243.                                     ^^B 

tmg.  ii.  222. 

Tiage,  ii.                                         ^^M 

trunkn,  ii.  157. 

Tierge,  t.  258.                                    ^^H 

tronlu,  T.  S7Z. 

vild,  i.  94;  ii.  77;  iii.  1S7;       ^^H 

tnui.   i.  3G7;   iL  2«0;   iii, 

137;       139.                         ^^H 

S88 ;  iv.  38. 

TildlT,  L  356.                                 ^^H 

Tuck.  &i«r,  iii.  115. 

*iol,  ii.  11.                                     ^^H 

Tnrk  worth  tcnpcnoe,  Ui.  489. 

TirginaU,   i.    278;    iii.    113;           ^^1 

turaTork,  iU.  80;  C-nd  ^rf. 

^^M 

»  Cor.  i. !«.] 

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

Tumboll-stmrt,  iv.  34;   t. 

48. 

^^1 

t«e»k»,  iii.  527. 

wuDscot-gown,  IT.  473.                 ^^H 

tweering,  ».  59*. 

wsistcoU,  iii.  4S.                               ^^H 

twetiM,  iY.  119. 

wale,  i.                                                 ^^H 

twirter-lighte,   ii.    309;    lii. 

4*9.                                       ^^H 

588. 

wspper-eyed,  t.  52S.                     ^^^^H 

twapeaDf  room,  ii.  413. 

ward,  iy.                                        ^^H 

warden-tree,  iii.  189.                     ^^^H 

ubcroiu,  i.  151. 

[wuniu-pieee.  Ad.  &  Cor.         ^^H 

nmblei,  ii.  482. 

^^H 

imeren,  ii.  145. 

wauBil-bowl,  T.  143.                       ^^H 

unkindlj,  T.  to. 

wutrn.  iU.  I8U.                            ^^H 

wsUbet.                                          ^^H 

imreihwt,  ii.  146. 

s>tennt!n,  great  number  of,         ^^^H 

ODtnuoag,  ii.  135-,  iii.  310. 

^^H 

(mnliMd,  u.  314;  iii.  £49; 

wean  a  smock,  i.  *38.                    ^^H 

IT.  585  :  T.  326. 

wedlocks,  ii.  481 .                               ^^H 

onTilnedeit.  IT.  517. 

welkin,         16.                                     ^^H 

upright  mui.  ii.  530. 

urchin,  iii.  589. 

^^H 

UnuLi,  St.,  iv.  310. 

•elted,  iii.  87.                                ^^H 

western  nug.  ii.  523.                     ^^M 
westward  bo.  ii.  S20.                     ^^H 

Tideth,  ii.  113. 

T»l,  i.  348 ;  *.  466. 

wet  finger,  with  >,  iii.  10.             ^^H 

Ttdiuil,  ii.  S. 

whit  are  TDu  for  n  coxcomb.       ^^^^H 

T<d«,iv.  aai. 

^^H 

vilnrp,  T.  IB9. 

what  is  «hc  for  a  fool,  U.  421 .         ^^H 

^^^^I^HI 

BAi                   ravn  TO  mm  mm.       ^^^^^^^| 

whil    Ud    T0«,   1.    i47;    n. 

wii«i.  T.  at.           ^^^M 

m  i  Ui.  34  1  ii.  8. 

wt«n  kto  DOM.  ii.  14.     ^^^H 

•W  ■houU  lie  bt  lot  ■  BUB, 

rtS.  ir.  SM.                    ^^ 

ii.  137, 

wM.  ifi.  31. 

wbn.  i.  U9i  (L  lUi   uL 

WH.  wUdM*  win  Hum,  iii. 

Iftil  W.  UI. 

en. 

mhtn.  ».  MS. 

witd«>«9lAgwind>.i«.Sia. 

>bMr.t.S8|U.M|iiLmi 

with  diild.  iii.  M. 

h.  I6;t.  aw. 

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

whenw,  T.  sro. 

It. 

■hibliu.  iU.  13. 

-ooa.i.  M:  ..445. 

nhiHler,  ill.  ill. 

woodcock,  iii.  46;  it.  59S. 

whllr,  I.  IS;  liLUt, 

Woodcock  of  oar  ode.  L  203. 

«bUoB,  *.  T». 

290. 

Wbvlipg,  Tbe.  1.  203. 

WookcT-Uolc.  iit  539. 

Woolner,  t.  508. 

-hirt.  T.  m. 

woot-wwd,  T.  £37. 

vkite.  It.  JSS. 

word.  iL  190. 

White -fiun'    Duuwrr.    t. 

word.  ii.  258;  iu.  537;  iv. 

(76. 

334;  r.299. 

-hinlo,  iii.  360. 

•orid,  it  if  «,  ».  429. 

•Ido  «■  the  bow-h«id,  ui.  14. 

worm,  T.  3S6.                      ^^H 

[widow',  notch.  Ad.  &  Cor.  i. 

wnck,  i.  403.                  ^^^H 

UXT.] 

wrench'd,                         ^^^H 

Wipnore".  gUJinnl.  il.  380. 

*itd  deu,  u.  as. 

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

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

Lrir.] 

jwllow,  1.800;  iiL  134;  t-          | 

wild  rofue.  ii.  Bar. 

182.                                               1 

will,  i.  M7. 

yellow  htadt.  iu.  422.                    J 

Wniow.  willow,  willow,  i.  3t«. 

rem.  ii.  263.                        ^^M 

[niDd-milU.  tba  di,  jU.  A 

yoothi.  the.  u.  124.          ^^^M 

(or.  i.  luii.J 

wine  uul  (u««r.  iii.  S42. 

unict.  i.  361.                   ^^H 

THE                                           ^^^H 

„.,.„.;—"„....,....„.,    ^1 

10  Su'ldutln'i'Lint.                               ^^^H 

I 


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