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And for it lose bis eyes with gan-powder,
Pox on your flameship, Vulcan; if it be As th’ other may his braines with quicksilver. To all as fatall as 't hath beene to me, Well-fare the wise-men yet, on the Banekside, And to Paul's steeple; which was unto its My friends, the watermen! they could provide 'Bove all your fire-workes had at Ephesus, Against thy furie, when, to serve their needs, Or Alexandria; and though a divine They made a Vulcan of a sheafe of reedes, Losse, remaines yet, as unrepair'd as mine. Whom they durst handle in their boly-day coates, Would you had kept your forge at Ætna still, And safely trust to dresse, not burne their boates. And there made swords, bills, glaves, and arms But, O those reeds! thy meere disdaiue of them, Made thee beget that cruell stratagem, (pranck) Maintain'd the trade at Bilbo; or else-where; (Which, some are pleas'd to stile buţ thy madde Strooke in at Millan with the cutlers there; Against the Globe, the glory of the Banke: Or stay'd but where tbe fryar and you first met, Which, though it were the fort of the whole parish, Who from the Devil's arse did guns beget, Flanck'd with a ditch, and forc'd out of a marish, Or fixt in the Low-Countreys, where you might I saw with two poore chambers taken in [beene! On both sides doe your mischiefes with delight; And raz'd; e're thought could urge, this might have Blow up, and ruine, myne, and countermyne, See the world's ruines! nothing but the piles Make your petards, and granats, all your fine Left ! and wit since to cover it with tiles.
Engines of murder, and receive the praise The brethren, they streight nois'd it out for newes, of massacring man-kind so many wayes. 'T was verily some relique of the stewes ;
We aske your absence here, we all love peace, And this a sparkle of that fire let loose
And pray the fruites thereof, and the increase; That was lock'd up in the Winchestrian goose, So doth the king, and most of the king's men Bred on the Banck in time of poperie,
That have good places: therefore once agen, When Venus there maintain'd her misterie. Pox on thee Vulcan, thy Pandora's pox, But others fell, with that conceipt, by the eares, And all the evils that fler out her box And cry'd, it was a threatning to the beares; Light on thee: or if those plagues will not doo, And that accursed ground, the Paris-Garden: Thy wire's pox on thee, and B. B—'s too. Nay, sigh'd a sister, 't was the nun, Kate Arden Kindled the fire; but, then did one returne, No foole would bis owne harvest spoile, or burne! If that were so, thou rather would'st advance The place, that was thy wive's inheritance.
SPEACH ACCORDING TO HORACE. O no, cry'd all. Fortune, for being a whore, Scap'd not bis justice any jot the more:
Why yet, my noble hearts, they cannot say, He burnt that idoll of the revels too:
But we have powder still for the king's day, Nay, let White-Hall with revels have to doe, And ord'nance too: so much as from the tower Though but in daunces, it shall know his power; t' have wak’d, if sleeping, Spaine's ambassador, There was a judgement shown too in an houre. Old Æsope Gundomar: the French can tell, He is true Vulcan still ! he did not spare
For they did see it the last tilting well, Troy, though it were so much his Venus' care. That we have trumpets, armour, and great horse, Foole, wilt tbou let that in example come? Lances, and men, and some a breaking force. Did not she save from thence, to build a Rome? They saw too store of feathers, and more may, And what hast thou done in these pettie spights, If they stay here but till Saint George's day. More then advanc'd the houses, and their rites? All ensignes of a warre, are not yet dead, I will not argue thee, from those of guilt,
Nor markes of wealth so from our nation fled, For they were burnt, but to be better built. But they may see gold-chaines, and pearle vorne *T is true, that in thy wish they were destroy'd,
then, Which thou hast only vented, not enjoy'd.
Lent by the London dames, to the lords men; So would'st th' have run upon the Rolls by stealth, Withall, the dirtie paines those citizens take And didst invade part of the common-wealth, To see the pride at court, their wives doe make: In those records, which, were all chronicles gone, And the returne those thankfull courtiers yeeld Will be remembred by six clerkes, to one.
To have their husbands drawne forth to the field, But say all six, good men, what answer yee? And comming home, to tell what acts were done Lyes there no writ, out of the Chancerie
Under the auspice of young Swynnerton. Against this Vulcan? po injunction?
What a strong fort old Pimblicoe had beene! No order? no decree? though we be gone How it held out! how (last) 't was taken in! At common-law, me thinkes in his despight Well, I say thrive, thrive brave artillerie yard, À court of equitie should doe us right.
Thou seed-plot of the warre, that hast not spar'd But to confine him to the brew-houses,
Powder, or paper, to bring up the youth The glasse-house, dye-fats, and their fornaces; Of London, in the militarie truth, To live in sea-coale, and goe forth in smoake; These ten yeares day; as all may sweare that looke Or lest that vapour might the citie choake, But on thy practise, and the posture booke: Condemne him to the brick-kills, or some hill- He that but saw thy curious captaines drill, Foot (out in Sussex) to an iron mill;
Would thinke no more of Vlushing, or the Brill: Or in small fagots have him blaze about
But give them over to the common eare, Vile tavernes, and the drunkards pisse him out; For that unnecessarie charge they were. Or in the bell-man's lanthorne, like a spie, Well did thy craftie clerke, and knight, sir Hugh, Burne to a snuffe, and then stinke out, and die: Supplant bold Panton ; and brought there to view I could invent a sentence, yet were worse; Translated Ælian's tactickes to be read, But I'le conclude all in a civill curse.
And the Greeke discipline (with the moderne) shed
TO MASTER ARTH, SQUIB.
So, in that ground, as soone it grew to be
What I am not, and what I fajne would be,
Whilst I informe my selfe, I would teach thee, And Spinola have blushed at the sight.
My gentle Arthur; that it might be said O happ'e art! and wise epitome
One lesson we have both learu'd, and well read; Of bearing armes! most civill soldierie !
I neither am, nor art thou one of those Thou canst draw forth thy forces, and fight drie
That hearkens to a jack's puise, when it goes. The battells of thy aldermanitie;
Nor ever trusted to that friendship yet Without the hazard of a drop of blood:
Was issue of the taverne, or the spit: More then the surfets in thee that day stood. Much lesse a name would we bring up, or nurse, Gue on, increast in vertue and in fame,
That could but claime a kindred from the purse, And keepe the glorie of the English name
Those are poore ties depend on those false ends, Up among nations. In the stead of bold
'T is vertue alone, or nothing, that knits friends : Beauchamps, and Nevills, Cliffords, Audleys old; And as within your office, you doe take Insert thy Hodges', and those newer men,
No piece of money, but you know, or make As Stiles, Dike, Ditchfield, Millar, Crips, and Fen:
Inquirie of the worth : so must we doe, That keepe the warre, though now 't be growne First weigh a friend, then touch, and trie him too: more tame,
Por there are many slips, and counterfeits. Alive yet, in the noise, and still the same,
Deceit is fruitfull. Men have masques and nets, And could (if our great men would let their sonnes
But these with wearing will themselves unfold: Come to their schooles) show 'hem the use of guns; They cannot last. No lie grew ever old, And there instruct the noble English heires
Turne him, and see his threds: looke, if he be In politique, and militar affaires;
Friend to himselfe, that would be friend to thee. But he that should perswade, to have this done
For that is first requir'd, a man be his owne: For education of our lordings, soone
But he that 's too-much that, is friend of none. Should he heare of billow, wind, and storme,
Then rest, and a friend's value understand
It is a richer purchase then of land.
ON SIR EDWARD COKE,
WHEN HE WAS LORD CHIEFE IUSTICE OF ENGLAND. More then to praise a dog? or horse? or speakc The hawking language? or our day to breake
He that should search all glories of the gowne, With citizens ? let clownes and tradesmen breed
And steps of all rais'd servants of the crowne, Their sonnes to studie arts, the lawes, the creed:
He could not find then thee, of all that store, We will beleeve like men of our owne ranke,
Whom fortune aided lesse, or vertue more, In so much land a yeare, or such a banke, Such, Coke, were thy beginnings, when thy good That tomes us so much moneys, at which rate
In others' evill best was understood: (aide, Our ancestors impos'd on prince and state.
When, being the stranger's helpe, the poore man's Let poore nobilitie be vertuous: we,
Thy just defences made th' oppressor afraid. Descended in a rope of titles, be
Such was thy processe, when integritie, From Guy, or Bevis, Arthur, or from whom
And skill in thee, now grew authoritie; The herald will. Our blood is now become
That clients strove, in question of the lawes, Past any need of vertue. Let them care,
More for thy patronage, then for their cause, That in the cradle of their gentrie are,
And that thy strong and manly eloquence To serve the state by conncels, and by armes :
Stood up thy nation's fame, her crowne's defence; We neither love the troubles, nor the barmes.
And now such is thy stand, while thou dost deale What love you then your whore? what study? | Desired justice to the publique weale Carriage, and dressing. There is up of late (gaite, Like Solon's selfe; explat'st the knottie lawes The academie, where the gallants meet
With endlesse labours, whilst thy learning drawes What, to make legs? yes, and to smell most sweet,
No lesse of praise, then readers in all kinds All that they doe at playes. O, but first here
Of worthiest knowledge, that can take men's minds. They learne and studie; and then practise there.
Such is thy all; that (as f'sung before) But why are all these irons i'the fire
None fortone aided lesse, or vertue more. Of severall makings ? helps, helps, t'attire
Or if chance must to each man that doth rise His lordship. That is for his band, his haire
Needs lend an aide, to thine she had her eyes. This, and that box his beautie to repaire; This other for his eye-browes: hence, away, I may no longer on these pictures stay,
AN EPISTLE These carkasses of honour: taylors' blocks,
ANSWERING TO ONE THAT ASKED TO BE SEALED OF THE
Mes that are safe, and sure, in all they doe,
They meet the fire, the test, as martyrs would ; " Waller.
And though opinion stampe them not, are gold.
TRIBE OF BEN.
I could say more of such, but that I flie
Are asked to climbe. First give me faith, wholoon To speake my selfe out too ambitiously,
My selfe a little. I will take you so,
OP THE KING'S NEW CELLAR,
Srnce, Bacchus, thou art father
Of wines, to thee the rather Call every night to supper in these fitts,
We dedicate this cellar,
Where new, thou art made dweller;
Of all to the great master.
And looke unto their faces,
That both their odour take him,
And relish merry make him. What is 't to me, whether the French designe
For, Bacchus, thou art freer Be, or be not, to get the Val-telline?
Of cares, and over-seer Or the state's ships sent forth belike to meet
Of feast, and merry meeting,
See then thou dost attend bim,
From any thought like sadnesse.
So mayst thou still be younger And force back that, which will not be restor'd, Then Phæbus; and much stronger I have a body yet, that spirit drawes
To give mankind their eases, To live, or fall, a carkasse in the cause.
And cure the world's diseases: So farre without inquirie what the states,
So may the Muses follow Brunsfield, and Mansfield doe this yeare, my fates Thee still, and leave Apollo Shall carry me at call; and I'le be well,
And thinke thy streame more quicker
Then Hippocrenes liquor :
Before his braine doe know it;
So may there never quarrell That guides the motions, and directs the beares. Have issue from the barrell; But that's a blow, by which in time I may
But Venus and the Graces Lose all my credit with my Christmas clay,
Pursue thee in all places, And animated porc'lane of the court,
And not a song be other I, and for this neglect, the courser sort
Then Cupid, and his mother.
That when king James above here
Thy circuits, and thy rounds free,
As sball the feast's faire grounds be. Still looking to, and ever loving Heaven;
Be it he hold communion With reverence using all the gifts thence given. In great saint George's union; 'Mongst which, if I have any friendships sent
Or gratulates the passage
The wished peace of Enrope: and that there be no fev'ry heats, nor colds,
Or else a health advances, Oylie expansions, or shrunke durtie folds,
To put bis court in dances, Bat all so cleare, and led by reason's flame,
And set us all on skipping, As but to stumble in ber sight were shame.
When with his roy all shipping These I will honour, love, embrace, and serve :
The narrow seas are shadie,
And Charles brings home the ladie.
Accessit fervor capiti
, numerusque lucernis
And though all praise bring nothing to your name, AN EPIGRAM
Who (herein studying conscience, and not fame)
Are in your selfe rewarded; yet 't will be
A cheerefull worke to all good eyes, to see
Among the daily ruines that fall foule
Of state, of fame, of body, and of soule, And thinkes I dare not her? let the world see.
So great a vertue stand upright to view, What though her chamber be the very pit
As makes Penelope's old fable true, Where fight the prime cocks of the game, for wit?
Whilst your Ulisses hath taʼne leave to goe, And that as any are strooke, her breath creates Countries and climes, manners and men to know. New in their stead, out of the candidates ?
Only your time you better entertaine, What though with tribade lust she force a Muse, Then the great Homer's wit for her could faine; And in an epicæne fury can write newes
For you admit no companie but good, Equall with that, which for the best newes goes, And when you want those friends, or neere in blood, As aërie light, and as like wit as those ?
Or your allies, you make your bookes your friends, What though she talke, and can at once with them, and studie them unto the noblest ends, Make state, religion, bawdrie, all a theame.
Searching for knowledge, and to keepe your mind
Su are they profitable to be knowne:
How comes it all things so about the smile?
Sonne to the grave wise keeper of the seale, Shall I advise thee, Pucell? steale away [day; Fame and foundation of the English weale. From court, while yet thy fame hath some small What then his father was, that since is he, The wits will leave you, if they once perceive Now with a title more to the degree; You cling to lords; and lords, if them you leave England's bigh chancellor: the destin'd heire For sermoneeres; of which now, one, now other, In his soft cradle to his father's chaire, They say, you weekly invite with fits o'th' mother, Whose even thred the Fates spione ronnd and full, And practise for a miracle; take heed
Out of their choysest, and their whitest wooll. This age would lend no faith to Dorrel's deed; 'T is a brave cause of joy, let it be knowne, Or if it would, the court is the worst place,
For 't were a narrow gladnesse, kept thine owne. Both for the mothers, and the babes of grace, Give me a deep-crown'd-bowle, that I may sing For there the wicked in the chaire of scorne, In raysing him the wisdome of my king. Will call 't a bastard, when a prophet's borne.
TO THE HONOURED
SENT ME BY SIR WILLIAM BURLASE.
THE PAINTER TO THE PORT.
Ben, I would show it:
But in this skill, m'unskilfull pen will tire, Is of so brave example, as he were
Thou, and thy worth, will still be found farre higher ; No friend to vertue, could be silent here.
And I a lier. The rather when the vices of the time Are growne so fruitfull, and false pleasures climbe Then, what a painter's here? or what an eater By all oblique degrees, that killing height [weight. Of great attempts! when as his skill's no greater, From whence they fall, cast downe with their owne
And he a cheater i VOL. V.
Then what a poet's here! whom, by confession
There 's no expression.
TO MR. ARTHUR SQUIB
THE POET TO THE PAINTER.
Wur? though I seeme of a prodigious wast,
'Tis true, as my wombe swells, so my backe stoupes,
Am to diue, friend, where I must be weigh'd
Which if in compass of no art it came
But whilst you curious were to have it be
TO MR. JOHN BURGES.
Would God, my Burges, I could thinke O, had I now your manner, maistry, might,
Thoughts worthy of thy gift, this inke, Your power of handling, shadow, ayre, and spright, Then would I promise here to give How I would draw, and take hold and delight.
Verse that should thee and me out-live.
But since the wine hath steep'd my braine, But, you are he can paint; I can but write:
I only can the paper staine;
Yet with a dye that feares no moth,
TO MY LADY COVELL.
TO WILLIAM, EARLE OF NEWCASTLE.
When first, my lord, I saw you backe your horse,
You won not verses, madam, you won me,