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And for it lose his eyes with gan-powder,
Pox on your flameship, Vulcan; if it bo 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 us 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 Valean of a sheafe of reedes, Losse, remaines yet, as unrepair'd as mine. Whom they durst handle in their holy-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,
your fill. Made thee beget that cruell stratagem, (pranck) Maintain'd the trade at Bilbo; or else-where; (Which, some are pleas'd to stile but thy madde Strooke in at Millan with the cutlers there; Against the Globe, the glory of the Banke: Or stay'd but where the 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 puore 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 flew out her box And cry'd, it was a threatning to the beares; Light on thee: or if those plagues will not dos, 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 his 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 his 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 ambassadeur, 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 thou 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 filed, For they were burnt, but to be better built.
But they may see gold-chaines, and pearle porte *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 wires doe nake: 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? no injunction ?
What a strong furt 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 bis despight Well, I say thrive, thrive brave artillerie yard, A court of equitie should doe us right.
Thou seed-plot of the warre, that hast nut 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
479 e, in that ground, as soone it grew to be
TO MASTER ARTH, SQUIB.
What I am not, and what I faine would be, o acted to the life, as Maurice might,
Whilst I informe my selfe, I would teach thee, and Spinola have blushed at the sight.
My gentle Arthur; that it might be said ) happie 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 hou canst draw forth thy forces, and fight drie
That hearkens to a jack's puise, when it goes.
Nor ever trusted to that friendship yet
Was issue of the taverne, or the spit:
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, p 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
No piece of money, but you know, or make
Inquirie of the worth : so must we doe,
Por there are many slips, and counterfeits.
But these with wearing will themselves unfold:
Turne him, and see his threds : looke, if he be
Friend to himselfe, that would be friend to thee.
For that is first requir'd, a man be his owne:
But he that 's too-much that, is friend of none.
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.
He that should search all glories of the gowne,
And steps of all rais'd servants of the crowne,
He could not find then thee, of all that store,
Whom fortune aided lesse, or vertue more,
Such, Coke, were thy beginnings, when thy good
In others' évill best was understood :
[aide, Our ancestors impos'd on prince and state.
When, being the stranger's helpe, the poore man's
Thy just defences made th' oppressor afraid.
Such was thy processe, when integritie,
And skill in thee, now grew authoritie;
That clients strove, in question of the lawes,
More for thy patronage, then for their cause,
And that thy strong and manly eloquence
Stood up thy nation's fame, her crowne's defence;
And now such is thy stand, while thou dost deale
With endlesse labours, whilst thy learning drawes
Of worthiest knowledge, that can take men's minds.
Such is thy all; that (as f'sung before)
None fortune aided lesse, or vertue more.
Or if chance must to each man that doth rise
Needs lend an aide, to thine she had her eyes.
ANSWERING TO ONE THAT ASKED TO BE SEALED OF THE
Care not what trials they are put unto;
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, who bor To speake my selfe out too ambitiously,
My selfe a little. I will take you so,
OP THE KING'S NEW CELLAR,
Since, Bacchus, thou art father
Of wines, to thee the rather Call every night to supper in these fitts,
We dedicate this cellar, And are receiv'd for the covey of witts ;
Where new, thou art made dweller; That censure all the towne, and all th' affaires,
And seale thee thy commission :
Of all to the great master.
And looke unto their faces,
That both their odour take bim,
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 him,
Prom 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 Though I doe neither heare these newes, nor tell
Then Hippocrenes liquor:
Before his brajne 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 1, and for this neglect, the courser sort
Then Cupid, and his mother. Of earthen jarres there may molest me too:
That when king James above here Well, with mine owne fraile pitcher what to doe Shall feast it, thou maist love there I have decreed; keepe it from waves, and presse; The causes and the guests too, Lest it be justled, crack'd, made nought, or lesse : And have thy tales and jests too, Live to that point I will, for which I am man,
Thy circuits, and thy rounds free, And dwell as in my center as I can,
As shall 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
Of some wel-wrought embassage:
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 fame,
And set us all on skipping, As but to stumble in her 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 luceruis
ON THE COURT-PUCELL.
481s And though all praise bring nothing to your name, AN EPIGRAM
Who (herein studying conscience, and not fame)
Among the daily ruines that fall foule
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 ta’ne 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
So are they profitable to be knowne:
How comes it all things so about the smile?
Out of their choysest, and their whitest wooll.
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,
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.
Why? though I seeme of a prodigious wast,
I am to diue, friend, where I must be weigh'd
You were not tied by any painter's law
Which if in compass2 of no art it came
But whilst you curious were to have it be
TO MR. JOHN BURGES.
Would O, had I now your manner, maistry, might,
OULD God, my Burges, I could thinke Your power of handling, shadow, ayre, and spright, Then would I promise here to give
Thoughts worthy of thy gift, this inke, 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 ; A poet hath no more hut black and white,
Yet with a dye that feares no moth,
But scarlet-like ont-lasts the cloth.
TO MY LADY COVELL.
You won not versés, madam, you won me,
When you would play so pobly, and so fres.. TO WILLIAM, EARLE OF NEWCASTLE.
A booke to a few lynes : but it was fit
You won them too, your oddes did merit it: When first, my lord, I saw you backe your horse, So have you gain'd a servant, and a Muse: Provoke his mettall, and command his force The first of which I feare you will refuse; To all the uses of the field and race,
And you may justly, being a tardie, cold, Me thought I read the ancient art of Thrace, Unprofitable chattell, fat and old, And saw a centaure, past those tales of Gretce, Laden with bellie, and doth bardly approach So scem'd your horse and you both of a peece! His friends, but to breake chaires, or cracke a coach. You show'd like Perseus upon Pegasus;
His weight is twenty stone within two pound; Or Castor inounted on his Cyllarus :
And that's made up as doth the purse abound. Or what we heare our home-borne legend tell Marrie, the Muse is one can tread the aire, Of bold sir Bevis and his Arundell:
And stroke the water, nimble, chast, and faire, Nay, so your seate his beauties did endorse, Sleepe in a virgin's bosome without feare, As I began to wish my selfe a horse;
Run all the rounds in a soft ladye's eare,
Widow or wife, without the jealousie
Such (if her manners like you) I doe send,
And can for other graces her commend,
A mornings, and at afternoones to foole
Away ill company, and helpe in rime, At these immortall mangers Virgil fed.
Your Joane to passe her melancholie time.