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<DATE>2007-06-08</DATE>
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<NAME>Robyn Anspach</NAME>
<RESP>MURP</RESP>
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<IDG S="marc" R="UM" ID="A89049">
<STC T="W">M1710</STC>
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<BIBNO T="umi">99863045</BIBNO>
<VID>115227</VID>
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<TEXT LANG="eng">
<FRONT>
<DIV1 TYPE="title page">
<PB REF="1" MS="y">
<P><HI>Mu&s;arum Deliciae:</HI> OR, THE MUSES RECREATION.</P>
<P>Conteining &s;everall &s;elect Pieces of &s;portive VVit.</P>
<P>By S^r <HI>J. M.</HI> and <HI>Ja: S.</HI></P>
<P><FIGURE>
</FIGURE></P>
<P><HI>LONDON,</HI> Printed for <HI>Henry Herringman,</HI> and are to be &s;old at his Shop, at the Signe of the Anchor in the New Exchange, 1655.</P>
<PB REF="2">
<PB REF="2">
<GAP DESC="duplicate" EXTENT="1 page">
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="to the reader">
<PB REF="3">
<PB REF="3">
<HEAD>THE STATIONER TO THE Ingenious READER.</HEAD>
<P>_PLain <HI>Poetry</HI> is now di&s;e&s;teem'd, it mu&s;t be <HI>Drollery</HI> or it will not plea&s;e: I have there|fore,
<PB REF="4">
to regal the curious Pal|lats of the&s;e Times, made a Collection of Sir <HI>John Mennis,</HI> and <HI>Doctor Smiths</HI> Droli&s;h Intercour&s;es; which as they need no recommendation to your acceptance, the world being well acquainted with the inge|nuity both of tho&s;e per&s;ons, and their preductions; &s;o neither can you &s;u&s;pect them adulterate,
<PB REF="4">
&s;ince they are inimitable by any but them&s;elves.</P>
<CLOSER>Read, Laugh and enjoy.
<SIGNED>H. H.</SIGNED></CLOSER>
</DIV1>
</FRONT>
<BODY>
<DIV1 TYPE="poems">
<PB REF="5">
<PB N="1" REF="5">
<HEAD><HI>MUSARUM DELICIAE:</HI> OR, The Mu&s;es Recreation.</HEAD>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<HEAD>To Par&s;on <HI>WEEKS.</HI> An Invitation to London.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>HOw now, my <HI>John,</HI> what, is't the care</L>
<L>Of thy &s;mall Flock, that keeps thee there?</L>
<L>Or hath the Bi&s;hop, in a rage,</L>
<L>Forbid thy comming on our Stage?</L>
<L>Or want'&s;t thou Coyn? or want'&s;t thou Steed?</L>
<L>The&s;e are impediments indeed:</L>
<L>But, for thy Flock, thy Sexton may</L>
<L>In due time <HI>ring,</HI> and let them <HI>pray.</HI></L>
<L>A Bi&s;hop, with an Offering,</L>
<L>May be brought unto any thing.</L>
<L>For want of Steed, I oft &s;ee Vic</L>
<L>Trudge up to Town with hazle &s;tick;</L>
<L>For Coyn, two Sermons by the way,</L>
<L>Will Ho&s;t, Ho&s;te&s;&s;e; and Tap&s;ter pay.</L>
<L><PB N="2" REF="6">
A willing minde pawns Wedding-ring,</L>
<L>Wife, Gown, Books, Children, any thing.</L>
<L>No way neglected, nought too deare</L>
<L>To &s;ee &s;uch friends, as thou ha&s;t here.</L>
<L>I met a Par&s;on on the way,</L>
<L>Came in a Wagon t'other day,</L>
<L>Who told me, that he ventur'd forth</L>
<L>With one Tythe Pig, of little worth;</L>
<L>With which, and &s;aying grace at food,</L>
<L>And praying for Lord Carryers good:</L>
<L>He had arriv'd at's Journeyes end,</L>
<L>Without a penny, or a friend.</L>
<L>And what great bu&s;ine&s;&s;e doe you think?</L>
<L>Onely to &s;ee a friend, and drink.</L>
<L>One friend? why thou ha&s;t thou&s;ands here</L>
<L>Will &s;trive to make thee better chear.</L>
<L>Ships lately from the I&s;lands came</L>
<L>With Wines, thou never heard&s;t their name.</L>
<L><HI>Montefia&s;co, Frontiniac,</HI></L>
<L><HI>Viatico,</HI> and that old Sack</L>
<L>Yong <HI>Herric</HI> took to entertaine</L>
<L>The Mu&s;es in a &s;prightly vein.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Come then, and from thy muddy Ale,</L>
<L>(Which &s;erves but for an old wifes Tale:</L>
<L>Or, now and then, to break a je&s;t,</L>
<L>At &s;ome poor &s;illy neighbours Fea&s;t)</L>
<L>Rouze up, and u&s;e the meanes, to &s;ee</L>
<L>Tho&s;e friends, expect thy wit, and thee.</L>
<L>And though you cannot come in &s;tate,</L>
<L>On Camels back, like <HI>Coryat:</HI></L>
<L><PB N="3" REF="6">
Imagine that a pack-hor&s;e be</L>
<L>The Camell, in his book you &s;ee.</L>
<L>I know you have a fancy, can</L>
<L>Conceive your guide a Caravan.</L>
<L>Rather then faile, &s;peak Trea&s;on there,</L>
<L>And come on charges of the Shire;</L>
<L>A <HI>London</HI> Goal, with friends and drink,</L>
<L>Is worth your Vicaridge, I think.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>But if be&s;otted with that one</L>
<L>Thou ha&s;t, of ten, &s;tay there alone;</L>
<L>And, all too late lament and cry,</L>
<L>Th'ha&s;t lo&s;t thy friends, among them, I.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<HEAD>To a friend upon a journey to <HI>Ep&s;am</HI> Well.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>SIR, though our flight de&s;erves no care</L>
<L>Of your enquiry, where we are;</L>
<L>Yet, for to put you out of doubt,</L>
<L>Read but the&s;e Lines, you'l &s;mell us out.</L>
<L>We having at the <HI>Mazard</HI> din'd,</L>
<L>Where Veal and Mutton open chin'd,</L>
<L>Hang on the Shambles; thence we pace</L>
<L>To <HI>Putney</HI>'s Ferry, <HI>Coomes</HI> old Cha&s;e</L>
<L>We next pa&s;s'd o're, then to the Town</L>
<L>Which name of King doth much renowne;</L>
<L>Where having &s;upp'd, we went to bed,</L>
<L>Our &s;elves and Cattell wearied.</L>
<L><PB N="4" REF="7">
Next morning e're the Sun appear'd,</L>
<L>Our Hor&s;es and our &s;elves well chear'd;</L>
<L>To <HI>Ep&s;am</HI> Well we ask'd the way,</L>
<L>Of young and old, of poor and gay:</L>
<L>Where, after five or &s;ix mi&s;takes,</L>
<L>We found the Spring, neer hid with brakes.</L>
<L>The&s;e waters cleer, two Hermits keep,</L>
<L>Who alwaies either wake, or &s;leep;</L>
<L>And by alternate cour&s;es, wait</L>
<L>On Man or Bea&s;t, if here you bait.</L>
<L>'Tis here the people farre and neer</L>
<L>Bring their Di&s;ea&s;es, and go clear.</L>
<L>Some drink of it, and in an houre,</L>
<L>Their Stomach, Guts, and Kidneyes &s;cower:</L>
<L>Others doe Bathe, and Ulcers cure,</L>
<L>Dry Itch, and Lepro&s;ie impure;</L>
<L>And what in Lords you call the Gout,</L>
<L>In poor the Pox, this drives all out.</L>
<L>Clo&s;e by the Well, you may di&s;cerne</L>
<L>Small &s;hrubs of <HI>Eglantin</HI> and <HI>Fern,</HI></L>
<L>Which &s;hew the bu&s;ine&s;&s;e of the place;</L>
<L>For here old <HI>Ops</HI> her upper face</L>
<L>Is yellow, not with heat of Summer,</L>
<L>But &s;afroniz'd with mortall &s;cumber.</L>
<L>But then the pity to behold</L>
<L>Tho&s;e antient Authors, which of old</L>
<L>Wrote down for us, Philo&s;ophy,</L>
<L>Phy&s;ick, Mu&s;ick, and Poetry,</L>
<L>Now to no other purpo&s;e tend,</L>
<L>But to defend the fingers end.</L>
<L><PB N="5" REF="7">
Here lyes <HI>Romes Na&s;o</HI> torn and rent,</L>
<L>New reeking from the Fundament:</L>
<L><HI>Galens</HI> old rules could not &s;uffice,</L>
<L>Nor yet <HI>Hippocrates</HI> the wi&s;e.</L>
<L>Not teaching, how to clen&s;e, can doe,</L>
<L>Them&s;elves mu&s;t come and wipe it too.</L>
<L>Here did lye <HI>Virgil,</HI> there lay <HI>Horace,</HI></L>
<L>Which newly had wip'd his, or her Ar&s;e,</L>
<L><HI>Anacreon</HI> reeled too and fro,</L>
<L>Vex'd, that they us'd his papers &s;o.</L>
<L>And <HI>Tully</HI> with his Offices,</L>
<L>Was forc'd to doe &s;uch works as the&s;e.</L>
<L>Here lies the Letter of a Lover,</L>
<L>Which piece-meale did the thing di&s;cover.</L>
<L>Sonnets halfe written would not &s;tay,</L>
<L>But mu&s;t nece&s;&s;ity obey.</L>
<L>This made us for a while to think,</L>
<L>The Mu&s;es here did &s;eldome drink:</L>
<L>But hap what would, we light from &s;tirrup,</L>
<L>And &s;treight de&s;cend to drink the &s;yrrup.</L>
<L>The good old Father takes a cup,</L>
<L>When five times wa&s;h'd, he fills it up</L>
<L>With this priz'd Liquor, then doth tell</L>
<L>The &s;trange effects of this new Well.</L>
<L>Quoth he, my friends, though&punc; I be plaine,</L>
<L>I have &s;een here many a goodly train</L>
<L>Of Lords and Ladies, richly clad,</L>
<L>With Aches more then ere I had:</L>
<L>The&s;e having drunk a week, or &s;o,</L>
<L>Away with health mo&s;t jocund go:</L>
<L><PB N="6" REF="8">
Mean while the Father thus did prate,</L>
<L>We &s;till were drinking as we &s;at;</L>
<L>Till Gut by rumbling, us be&s;eeches,</L>
<L>My boyes, beware, you'l wrong your Breeches.</L>
<L>Ah, doth it worke? the old man cryes,</L>
<L>Yonder are brakes to hide your thighes.</L>
<L>Where, though 'twere neer we hardly came,</L>
<L>Ere one of us had been too blame.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Here no Olympick games they u&s;e,</L>
<L>No wre&s;tling here, Limbs to abu&s;e,</L>
<L>But he that gaines the glory here</L>
<L>Mu&s;t &s;cumber furthe&s;t, &s;hite mo&s;t clear.</L>
<L>And, for to make us emulate,</L>
<L>The good old Father doth relate</L>
<L>The vigour of our Ance&s;tors,</L>
<L>Who&s;e &s;hiting far exceeded ours.</L>
<L>Quoth he, doe you &s;ee that below?</L>
<L>I doe, quoth I, his head's now low,</L>
<L>But here have I &s;een old <HI>John Jones,</HI></L>
<L>From this hill, &s;hite to yonder &s;tones.</L>
<L>But him Heaven re&s;t, the ma<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="apex" EXTENT="2+ letters">s dead,</L>
<L>This &s;peech of his me netled;</L>
<L>With that my head I &s;traightway put</L>
<L>Between my knees, and mounting &s;cut,</L>
<L>At chiefe&s;t randome, forty five,</L>
<L>With Lyons face, dung forth I drive,</L>
<L>The ayre's divided, and it flyes,</L>
<L>Like <HI>Draco volans</HI> through the skies.</L>
<L>Or who had &s;een a Conduit break,</L>
<L>And at the hole with fury reak:</L>
<L><PB N="7" REF="8">
Had he but hither took the paine</L>
<L>To come, had &s;een it once againe.</L>
<L>Here <HI>Colon</HI> play'd his part indeed,</L>
<L>And over-&s;hit the &s;tones a reed.</L>
<L>Whereat the Father, all amaz'd,</L>
<L>Limps to the place, where having gaz'd</L>
<L>With heav'd up hands, and fixed eyes,</L>
<L>Quoth he, dear, let me ki&s;&s;e tho&s;e thighes</L>
<L>That prop the taile will carry hence</L>
<L>Our glory and magnificence.</L>
<L>His &s;uit being granted, home he walkes,</L>
<L>And to him&s;elfe of wonders talkes;</L>
<L>From whence he brings a painted &s;take,</L>
<L>High to be &s;een, above the Brake:</L>
<L>And having ask'd my name, he writ</L>
<L>In yellow Letters, who 'twas &s;hit,</L>
<L>Which &s;till &s;tands as a Monument</L>
<L>Call'd Long-taile, from the Man of <HI>Kent.</HI></L>
<L>This being all the fir&s;t day did,</L>
<L>We home retir'd, where we lay hid</L>
<L>In Alehou&s;e, till another day</L>
<L>Shall prompt my Mu&s;e; then more I'le &s;ay.</L>
<L>'Till when, take this, to make an end,</L>
<L>I re&s;t your &s;ervant, and your friend.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<HEAD>To a friend upon his Marriage.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>SInce la&s;t I writ, I heare deare honey,</L>
<L>Thou ha&s;t committed Matrimony;</L>
<L><PB N="8" REF="9">
And &s;oberly both Morn and Even,</L>
<L>Do&s;t take up &s;mock, in fear of Heaven.</L>
<L>Alas poor Soul, thy Marriage vow</L>
<L>Is as the Rites, unhallowed now;</L>
<L>Sleighted by Man, ordain'd by Bi&s;hop,</L>
<L>Not one, whom zeal hath &s;car'd from his &s;hop.</L>
<L>The Ring prophane, and Surplice foule,</L>
<L>No better then a Friers Cowl,</L>
<L>With Poe&s;ie vile, and at thy Table</L>
<L>Fidlers, that were abhominable,</L>
<L>Who &s;ung, perhaps, a &s;ong to <HI>Hymen,</HI></L>
<L>And not a P&s;alm to edifie men.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>It is th'opinion of this place,</L>
<L>Thou can&s;t not get a Babe of Grace.</L>
<L>This &s;tory is &s;ad; to make amends,</L>
<L>I'le tell thee news, to tell thy friends.</L>
<L>You heard of late, what Chevaliers</L>
<L>(Who dur&s;t not tarry for their eares)</L>
<L>Pre&s;cribed were, for &s;uch a plot</L>
<L>As might have ruin'd Heaven knows what:</L>
<L>Su&s;pected for the &s;ame's <HI>Will D'avenant,</HI></L>
<L>Whether he have been in't, or have not,</L>
<L>He is committed, and, like Sloven,</L>
<L>Lolls on his Bed, in garden Coven.</L>
<L>He had been rack'd, as I am told,</L>
<L>But that his body would not hold.</L>
<L>Soon as in <HI>Kent</HI> they &s;aw the Bard,</L>
<L>(As to &s;ay truth, it is not hard,</L>
<L>For <HI>Will</HI> has in his face, the flawes</L>
<L>Of wounds receiv'd in Countreys cau&s;e:)</L>
<L><PB N="9" REF="9">
They flew on him, like Lions pa&s;&s;ant,</L>
<L>And tore his No&s;e, as much as was on't:</L>
<L>They call'd him Super&s;titious Groom,</L>
<L>And Popi&s;h Dog, and Curre of <HI>Rome;</HI></L>
<L>But this I'm &s;ure, was the fir&s;t time,</L>
<L>That <HI>Wills</HI> Religion was a crime.</L>
<L>What ere he is in's outward part,</L>
<L>He is &s;ure a Poet in his heart.</L>
<L>But 'tis enough, he is thy friend,</L>
<L>And &s;o am I, and there's an end.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>From <HI>London,</HI> where we &s;it and mu&s;e,</L>
<L>And pay Debts when we cannot chu&s;e;</L>
<L>The day that Bi&s;hops, Deans and Prebends,</L>
<L>And all their friends, wear mourning Ribbands;</L>
<L>If this day &s;mile, they'l ride in Coaches,</L>
<L>And, if it frown, then <HI>Bonas Noches.</HI></L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<HEAD>In an&s;wer to certaine Letters, which he received from <HI>London,</HI> whil&s;t he was engaged to fol|low the Camp.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>WHat, Letters two, on New-years-day?</L>
<L>'Tis &s;igne, thy Mu&s;e hath leave to play,</L>
<L>And &s;welling grape di&s;tills his Liquor,</L>
<L>Which makes thy Pul&s;e and mu&s;e flow quicker.</L>
<L>Alas poor Soules! in Mud we travell,</L>
<L>And each day vex'd with Martch and Gravel,</L>
<L>And when at night, we come to quarter,</L>
<L>Drink, what thou would&s;t not give to Porter.</L>
<L><PB N="10" REF="10">
From Northern &s;oyl, I lately came,</L>
<L>With Hor&s;es two of mine, one Lame;</L>
<L>But when I came to hou&s;e of &s;tate,</L>
<L>Where <HI>quondam</HI> fled his Grace in Plate:</L>
<L>Expecting after journey &s;curvey,</L>
<L>Solace, I found all top&s;ie turvy.</L>
<L>New Orders bid me thence away,</L>
<L>The people grumble, they want pay;</L>
<L>And now, like wandring Knights we wend</L>
<L>Without a penny, or a friend:</L>
<L>Our &s;core growes great, from whence we goe,</L>
<L>And every Alehou&s;e turn'd a foe.</L>
<L>The&s;e give their friends intelligence</L>
<L>That we are coming, without pence;</L>
<L>And tho&s;e we feare, will &s;hut the door</L>
<L>At wandring Prince, when known &s;o poor.</L>
<L>However, we march on to morrow,</L>
<L>And here, and there, &s;mall &s;ummes we borrow.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Judge, if thy Mu&s;e could &s;oar &s;o high,</L>
<L>When pinion's clip'd, what Bird can fly?</L>
<L>No, no, good Wine and ea&s;e I'm barr'd of,</L>
<L>Which makes my Mu&s;e to come &s;o hard off;</L>
<L>And hearing fellowes nine in <HI>London,</HI></L>
<L>Get ca&s;h, carou&s;e, while I am undon:</L>
<L>While not one Captaine here will tarry</L>
<L>But <HI>John,</HI> with Hor&s;e of Commi&s;&s;ary;</L>
<L>And here he &s;pends his time and pence,</L>
<L>Without a hope of recompence,</L>
<L>And &s;carce &s;ees friends, but &s;uch as grutch him,</L>
<L>If he have coyn, they none, they catch him</L>
<L><PB N="11" REF="10">
With that old beaten, trodden way,</L>
<L><HI>Jack,</HI> can&s;t thou lend, till next pay day?</L>
<L>Till now, at length my pocket's grown</L>
<L>Like Ne&s;t defil'd, when Bird is flown.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Judge, from &s;uch &s;tories, if you can</L>
<L>Expect a Mu&s;e from any man.</L>
<L>Yet have I &s;till re&s;pects from them,</L>
<L>Who weekly think upon. <HI>J. M.</HI></L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>To noble <HI>Kenelm,</HI> &s;ay, I drink,</L>
<L>And unto Lord of <HI>Downe,</HI> I thinke</L>
<L>The day, when <HI>Janus,</HI> with face double,</L>
<L>Looks on the pa&s;s'd, and coming trouble.</L>
<L>The fir&s;t day ever rich or poor,</L>
<L>Wrote forty yeares, and one before.</L>
<L>The Hou&s;e, the Talbot, <HI>Corney</HI> Ho&s;t,</L>
<L>My liquor now, but Ale and To&s;t.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<HEAD>In an&s;wer to this la&s;t, or &s;ome &s;uch like Letter.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>WHy &s;eeks my friend &s;o vain excu&s;e,</L>
<L>For the long &s;ilence of his Mu&s;e;</L>
<L>As if her faculty were wor&s;e,</L>
<L>Becau&s;e joyn'd with an empty pur&s;e?</L>
<L>Lines may accrew, although the pence</L>
<L>That u&s;e to purcha&s;e Influence</L>
<L>From con&s;tellation of <HI>Corney,</HI></L>
<L>Be fewer, then will fee Attorney.</L>
<L><PB N="12" REF="11">
Thou know&s;t that <HI>Vacuus cantabit,</HI></L>
<L>(Ther's Latin for thee, though but a bit)</L>
<L>Sing then, and lets be free from blame,</L>
<L>Thy Ver&s;e is fat, though hor&s;e be lame.</L>
<L>See&s;t thou not, <HI>Ovid, Homer, Virgil,</HI></L>
<L>With Mu&s;e more needy, <HI>John,</HI> then your <HI>Gill;</HI></L>
<L>Indite things high, and re&s;t the Ivie,</L>
<L>From wealthy <HI>Tacitus</HI> and <HI>Livie:</HI></L>
<L>From <HI>Cicero,</HI> (that wrote in Pro&s;e)</L>
<L>So call'd, from Rouncival on's No&s;e.</L>
<L>For, though 'twas hid, till now of late,</L>
<L>Yet 'tis a truth, as firme as fate,</L>
<L>That Poets, when their Money &s;cants,</L>
<L>Are oft in&s;pired by their wants.</L>
<L>Want makes them rage, and rage Poetick</L>
<L>Makes Mu&s;e, and Mu&s;e makes work for Critick.</L>
<L>As for thy pocket, which thou &s;ay'&s;t</L>
<L>Is like to a defiled Ne&s;t,</L>
<L>A Ne&s;t, that is of all bereft,</L>
<L>Save what the Cat in Maulthou&s;e left;</L>
<L>There is a Proverb to thy comfort,</L>
<L>Known, as the ready way to <HI>Rumford,</HI></L>
<L>That, when the pot ore fire you heat,</L>
<L>A Low&s;e is better then no meat;</L>
<L>So, in your Pocket by your favour,</L>
<L>Something, you know, will have &s;ome &s;avour.</L>
<L>But &s;oft, the word is now come forth,</L>
<L>We all mu&s;t pack into the North;</L>
<L>When minde of Man was &s;et to play,</L>
<L>And riding Boot lay out of th'way;</L>
<L><PB N="13" REF="11">
We were commanded in a Minute,</L>
<L>To journey ba&s;e, the Devil's in it;</L>
<L>For now I have no more minde to't,</L>
<L>Then is an Apple like a Nut:</L>
<L>Yet look I mu&s;t for riding tackle,</L>
<L>In corners of my Tabernacle;</L>
<L>And look, as men for &s;landers heark,</L>
<L>Or one that gropes in privy darke,</L>
<L>So mu&s;t I &s;earch with fear of minde,</L>
<L>And &s;eek for what I would not finde.</L>
<L>Had I two faces, like to <HI>Janus,</HI></L>
<L>(A Month that now hath overtane us.)</L>
<L>With one of them I'le &s;mile in Town,</L>
<L>While tother 'mong my foes did frown.</L>
<L>But wi&s;hes help not, nor can with&punc;</L>
<L>Hold, from embracing thee, <HI>James Smith.</HI></L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Long Aker, from the Angel Tavern,</L>
<L>Two hundred miles from head of <HI>Severn.</HI></L>
<L>Where, for my &s;hillings twain, I dine,</L>
<L>With Tongue of Neat, far wor&s;e then mine:</L>
<L>The tenth of <HI>January</HI> day durty.</L>
<L>One thou&s;and, hundreds &s;ix, and forty.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<HEAD>De&s;cription of three Beauties.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L><HI>PHiloclea</HI> and <HI>Pamela</HI> &s;weet,</L>
<L>By chance in one great hou&s;e did meet,</L>
<L><PB N="14" REF="12">
And meeting did &s;o joyne in heart,</L>
<L>That t'one from t'other could not part.</L>
<L>And who, indeed, not made of Stones,</L>
<L>Would &s;eparate &s;uch lovely ones?</L>
<L>The one is beautifull, and faire,</L>
<L>As Lillies and white Ro&s;es are;</L>
<L>And &s;weet, as after gentle &s;howers,</L>
<L>The breath is of ten thou&s;and flowers.</L>
<L>From due proportion, a &s;weet aire</L>
<L>Circles the other, not &s;o faire;</L>
<L>Which &s;o her Brown doth beautifie,</L>
<L>That it inchants the wi&s;e&s;t eye.</L>
<L>Have you not &s;een, on &s;ome bright day,</L>
<L>Two goodly Hor&s;es, White, and Baye,</L>
<L>Which were &s;o beauteous in their pride,</L>
<L>You knew not which to chu&s;e, or ride?</L>
<L>Such are the&s;e two, you &s;carce can tell,</L>
<L>Which is the daintier Bonny bell:</L>
<L>And they are &s;uch, as, by my troth,</L>
<L>I had been dead in love with both,</L>
<L>And might have &s;adly &s;aid, goodnight</L>
<L>Di&s;cretion, and good fortune quite,</L>
<L>But that God <HI>Cupid,</HI> my old Ma&s;ter,</L>
<L>Pre&s;ented me a Soveraigne plai&s;ter:</L>
<L><HI>Mop&s;a,</HI> even <HI>Mop&s;a,</HI> prety Mou&s;e,</L>
<L>Be&s;t piece of Wain&s;cot in the Hou&s;e;</L>
<L>Who&s;e Saffron Teeth, and Lips of Leeks,</L>
<L>Who&s;e Corall No&s;e, and Parchment Cheeks;</L>
<L>Who&s;e Pa&s;t-board forehead, eyes of Ferret,</L>
<L>Brea&s;t of brown Paper, Neck of Caret;</L>
<L><PB N="15" REF="12">
And other parts, not evident,</L>
<L>For which dame nature &s;hould be &s;hent,</L>
<L>Are Spells and Charms of great renown,</L>
<L>Concupi&s;cence to conjure downe.</L>
<L>How oft have I been reft of &s;ence,</L>
<L>By gazing on their excellence,</L>
<L>Till meeting <HI>Mop&s;a</HI> in my way,</L>
<L>And looking on her face of Clay,</L>
<L>I &s;oon was cur'd and made as &s;ound,</L>
<L>As though I never had a wound.</L>
<L>And when, in Tables of my heart,</L>
<L>Love with &s;uch things as bred my &s;mart;</L>
<L>My <HI>Mop&s;a,</HI> with her face of Clout,</L>
<L>Would in an in&s;tant wipe them out:</L>
<L>And when their faces made me &s;ick&punc;</L>
<L><HI>Mop&s;a</HI> would come with hers of Brick,</L>
<L>A little heated by the fire,</L>
<L>And break the neck of my de&s;ire.</L>
<L>Now from their face I turne mine eyes,</L>
<L>But (cruel <HI>Panthers)</HI> they &s;urprize</L>
<L>Me with their breath, that incen&s;e &s;weet,</L>
<L>Which onely for the Gods is meet;</L>
<L>And jointly from them doth re&s;pire</L>
<L>Like both the <HI>Indies</HI> &s;et on fire,</L>
<L>Which &s;o orecomes mans ravi&s;h'd &s;ence,</L>
<L>That Soules to follow it, fly hence.</L>
<L>Nor &s;uch like &s;mell you, as you range</L>
<L>By th'Stocks, or Old, or New Exchange.</L>
<L>Then &s;tood I &s;till as any Stock,</L>
<L>Till <HI>Mop&s;a</HI> with her puddle Dock.</L>
<L><PB N="16" REF="13">
Her Compound or Electuary,</L>
<L>Made of old Ling, or Caviary,</L>
<L>Bloat Herring, Chee&s;e, or voided Phy&s;ick,</L>
<L>(Being &s;ometimes troubled with the Ty&s;ick)</L>
<L>Did Cough, and fetch a figh &s;o deep,</L>
<L>As did her very bottom &s;weep;</L>
<L>Whereby to all &s;he did impart,</L>
<L>How Love lay rankling at her heart;</L>
<L>Which when I &s;melt, de&s;ire was &s;laine,</L>
<L>And they breathe forth perfumes in vaine.</L>
<L>Their Angels voice &s;urpriz'd me now,</L>
<L>But <HI>Mop&s;a</HI>'s &s;hrill; To whit to whoo</L>
<L>De&s;cending through her hollow No&s;e,</L>
<L>Did that di&s;temper &s;oon compo&s;e.</L>
<L>And therefore Oh thou vertuous Owle,</L>
<L>The wi&s;e <HI>Minerva</HI>'s onely fowle:</L>
<L>What at thy &s;hrine &s;hall I devi&s;e</L>
<L>To offer up for Sacrifice?</L>
<L>Hang <HI>Ae&s;culapius,</HI> and <HI>Apollo,</HI></L>
<L>Hang <HI>Ovid</HI> with his precepts &s;hallow:</L>
<L>With patience who will now indure</L>
<L>Your &s;low and mo&s;t uncertaine cure,</L>
<L>Seeing <HI>Mop&s;a</HI>'s found, for Man and Bea&s;t,</L>
<L>To be the &s;ure <HI>Probatum e&s;t?</HI></L>
<L>Oh thou, Loves chiefe&s;t Medicine,</L>
<L>True water to Dame <HI>Venus</HI> wine,</L>
<L>Be&s;t Cordiall, &s;ounde&s;t Antidote,</L>
<L>To conquer Love, and cut his throat;</L>
<L>Be but my &s;econd, and &s;tand by,</L>
<L>And I their beauties both defie,</L>
<L><PB N="17" REF="13">
And all el&s;e of tho&s;e Faery races</L>
<L>That wear infection in their faces;</L>
<L>For I'le come &s;afe out of the Field</L>
<L>With this thy face, <HI>Medu&s;a</HI>'s &s;hield.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<HEAD>A journey into France.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>I Went from <HI>England</HI> into <HI>France,</HI></L>
<L>Neither to learn to &s;ing, nor dance,</L>
<L>To ride, nor yet to Fence:</L>
<L>Nor did I goe like one of tho&s;e</L>
<L>That doe returne with halfe the no&s;e</L>
<L>They carried from hence.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>But I to <HI>Paris</HI> rid along</L>
<L>Much like <HI>Iohn Dory</HI> in the &s;ong,</L>
<L>Upon a holy Tide:</L>
<L>I on an ambling Nag did get,</L>
<L>I thinke he is not paid for yet,</L>
<L>And &s;purr'd him on each &s;ide.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>And to S. <HI>Denis</HI> fir&s;t we came,</L>
<L>To &s;ee the &s;ights at <HI>No&s;tredame,</HI></L>
<L>The man that &s;hewes them &s;nuffles;</L>
<L>Where who is apt for to believe,</L>
<L>May &s;ee our Ladies right arme &s;leeve,</L>
<L>And eke her old Pantofle.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<PB N="18" REF="14">
<L>Her Brea&s;ts, her Milk, her very Gown,</L>
<L>Which &s;he did weare in <HI>Bethlem</HI> Town,</L>
<L>When in the Inne &s;he lay;</L>
<L>Yet all the world knowes, that's a fable,</L>
<L>For &s;o good Cloaths ne'r lay in &s;table,</L>
<L>Upon a lock of Hay.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>No Carpenter could by his Trade</L>
<L>Gaine &s;o much Coyn, as to have made</L>
<L>A Gown of &s;o rich Stuffe;</L>
<L>Yet they (poor fools) thinke for their credit,</L>
<L>They mu&s;t believe old <HI>Jo&s;eph</HI> did it,</L>
<L>Cau&s;e &s;he de&s;erv'd enough.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>There is one of the Cro&s;&s;es Nailes,</L>
<L>Which who &s;o &s;ees, his Bonnet vailes;</L>
<L>And, if he will, may kneel:</L>
<L>Some &s;ay, 'tis fal&s;e, 'twas never &s;o,</L>
<L>Yet, feeling it, thus much I know,</L>
<L>It is as true as Steel.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>There is a Lanthorne which the <HI>Jewes,</HI></L>
<L>When <HI>Judas</HI> led them forth did u&s;e;</L>
<L>It weighed my weight down right:</L>
<L>But to believe it, you mu&s;t think</L>
<L>The <HI>Jewes</HI> did put a Candle in't,</L>
<L>And then 'twas wondrous light.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<PB N="19" REF="14">
<L>There's one Saint there hath lo&s;t his No&s;e,</L>
<L>Another's head, but not his Toes,</L>
<L>His Elbow, and his Thumb;</L>
<L>But when w'had &s;een the holy rags,</L>
<L>We went to th'Inne, and took our Nags,</L>
<L>And &s;o away did come.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>We came to <HI>Paris,</HI> on the Seyn,</L>
<L>'Tis wondrous faire, but nothing clean,</L>
<L>'Tis <HI>Europes</HI> greate&s;t Town;</L>
<L>How &s;trong it is, I need not tell it,</L>
<L>For any man may ea&s;ily &s;mell it,</L>
<L>That walkes it up and down.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>There many &s;trange things you may &s;ee,</L>
<L>The Palace, the great Gallery,</L>
<L>Place royall doth excell:</L>
<L>The New Bridge, and the Statue's there,</L>
<L>At <HI>No&s;tredame,</HI> Saint <HI>Chri&s;topher,</HI></L>
<L>The Steeple beares the Bell.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>For Learning, th'Univer&s;ity,</L>
<L>And for old Clothes, the Frippery,</L>
<L>The hou&s;e the Queen did build.</L>
<L>Saint <HI>Innocents,</HI> who&s;e earth devoures</L>
<L>Dead Corps, in foure and twenty houres,</L>
<L>And there <HI>the</HI> <NOTE N="*" PLACE="foot"><HI>Hen</HI> the Great, by <HI><GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="faint" RESP="apex" EXTENT="2 letters">vllias.</HI></NOTE> <HI>King was kill'd.</HI></L>
</LG>
<LG>
<PB N="20" REF="15">
<L>The <HI>Ba&s;tile</HI> and St. <HI>Denis</HI> &s;treet,</L>
<L>The <HI>Cha&s;telet,</HI> ju&s;t like <HI>London Fleet,</HI></L>
<L>The <HI>Ar&s;enal,</HI> no Toy;</L>
<L>But if you'l &s;ee the prettie&s;t thing,</L>
<L>Goe to the Court, and view the King,</L>
<L>Oh 'tis a hopefull Boy.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Of all his Nobles, Dukes and Peers,</L>
<L>He's reverenc'd for his wit and years,</L>
<L>Nor mu&s;t you thinke it much:</L>
<L>For he with little &s;witch can play,</L>
<L>And can make fine Dirt pies of Clay,</L>
<L>Oh never King made &s;uch.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>A Bird that doth but kill a Flye,</L>
<L>Or prates, doth plea&s;e his Maje&s;ty,</L>
<L>'Tis known to every one;</L>
<L>The Duke of <HI>Gui&s;e</HI> gave him a Parret,</L>
<L>And he had twenty Cannons for it,</L>
<L>For his new <HI>Galleon.</HI></L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Oh that I e're might have the hap</L>
<L>To get the Bird, that, in the Map,</L>
<L>Is call'd the <HI>Indian</HI> Ruck;</L>
<L>I'le give it him, and hope to be</L>
<L>As great as <HI>Gui&s;e</HI> or <HI>Luyne,</HI></L>
<L>Or el&s;e I had ill luck.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<PB N="21" REF="15">
<L>Birds round about his Table &s;tand,</L>
<L>And he them feeds with his owne hand,</L>
<L>'Tis his humility;</L>
<L>And if they doe want any thing,</L>
<L>They need but chirp for their kind King,</L>
<L>And he comes pre&s;ently.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>And now, for tho&s;e rare parts he mu&s;t</L>
<L>Entituled be, <HI>Lewis</HI> the Ju&s;t,</L>
<L>Great <HI>Henries</HI> lawfull heire;</L>
<L>When to his &s;tyle, to adde more words,</L>
<L>Th'ad better call him King of Birds,</L>
<L>Then King of lo&s;t <HI>Navarre.</HI></L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>He hath be&s;ides a pretty firk,</L>
<L>Taught him by nature how to worke</L>
<L>In Iron, with much ea&s;e;</L>
<L>Sometimes into the Forge he goes,</L>
<L>And there he knocks, &amp; there he blows,</L>
<L>And makes both Locks and Keyes.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Which moves a doubt in every one</L>
<L>Whether he's <HI>Mars</HI> or <HI>Vulcans</HI> Son,</L>
<L>Some few believe his Mother;</L>
<L>But let them all &s;ay what they will,</L>
<L>I am re&s;olv'd and doe think &s;till,</L>
<L>As much the one as th'other.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<PB N="22" REF="16">
<L>The people doe di&s;like the youth,</L>
<L>Alledging rea&s;on, for, in truth,</L>
<L>Mothers &s;hould honour'd be;</L>
<L>Yet others &s;ay, he loves her rather,</L>
<L>As well as ere &s;he lov'd his Father;</L>
<L>That's a notorious lye.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>His Queen's a little pretty Wench,</L>
<L>Was born in <HI>Spain,</HI> &s;peaks little French,</L>
<L>Not like to be a Mother:</L>
<L>For her ince&s;tuous Hou&s;e would not</L>
<L>Have any Children, but begot</L>
<L>By Unkle, or by Brother.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Now why &s;hould <HI>Lewis,</HI> being &s;o ju&s;t,</L>
<L>Content him&s;elfe to take his Lu&s;t</L>
<L>With his la&s;civious Mate,</L>
<L>And &s;uffer his little pretty Queen,</L>
<L>From all her race, that e're hath been.</L>
<L>Once to degenerate?</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>'Twere Charity for to be known</L>
<L>Love others Children, as his owne,</L>
<L>And why? it is no &s;hame:</L>
<L>Unle&s;&s;e that he would greater be</L>
<L>Then was his Father <HI>Henery,</HI></L>
<L>Who (men thought) did the &s;ame.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<PB N="23" REF="16">
<HEAD><HI>Hankins</HI> Heigh-hoa.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>NOrth <HI>Britain</HI> loved Sculler of our times,</L>
<L>That twy-beat'&s;t this way, that way going <HI>Thames;</HI></L>
<L>Divine <HI>Aquarius</HI> of all fluent rimes,</L>
<L>Such as de&s;cribe <HI>Lepanto</HI>'s bloudy &s;treames.</L>
<L>Lend me thy Scull, full of <HI>Pyerian</HI> &s;weat</L>
<L>My &s;orrowes to repeat,</L>
<L>And in each Pye, Ile bake up every &s;he,</L>
<L>Big as thy Boat for thee.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Thrice had all New-years Gue&s;ts their yewl guts fill'd</L>
<L>With embalm'd Veal, buried in Chri&s;tmas Pa&s;t,</L>
<L>Thrice had they Ivy herby wreath, well pill'd;</L>
<L><HI>Crane</HI> &s;lept at <HI>Totnam</HI> fir&s;t, at <HI>Chel&s;ey</HI> la&s;t;</L>
<L>Since fir&s;t my heart was broach'd on <HI>Cupids</HI> &s;pit,</L>
<L>Roa&s;ting bit after bit,</L>
<L>In her loves flames, who ca&s;ts it now behinde,</L>
<L>And blow'&s;t away with winde.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<PB N="24" REF="17">
<L>When I had built with practick Architecture</L>
<L><HI>Newca&s;tle Mine,</HI> refin'd to &s;uch a frame</L>
<L>Proportionable, as might de&s;erve a Lecture,</L>
<L>And that the Ma&s;t &s;taid onely for a flame;</L>
<L>Her love alone, without or Match or Tinder,</L>
<L>New &s;tyl'd this new built Cinder,</L>
<L>And &s;o an Embleme of our Love we beeted,</L>
<L>The word black, but love lighted.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Oft have I perboyl'd been with blubbering grief,</L>
<L>Sea&s;on'd &amp; &s;ows'd with brine of bitter tears,</L>
<L>With Sallads &s;lic'd, and Lettuc'd up with Beef,</L>
<L>With Vineger and Sugar, hopes and feares,</L>
<L>Undone like Oy&s;ters, pepper'd with de&s;pair,</L>
<L>All for this Laundres fair,</L>
<L>Who now &s;he thinkes, a bitter bit hath got</L>
<L>To furni&s;h her fle&s;h-pot.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>My Kitchin dore, like <HI>Pluto</HI>'s gates &s;till ope,</L>
<L>Down coms this beauteous Queen, like <HI>Pro&s;erpin,</HI></L>
<L>I &s;mear'd with &s;oot, and &s;he with &s;uds of Sope,</L>
<L>Was ever match more nece&s;&s;ary &s;een?</L>
<L>And faith we &s;wore, I by my Oven and Peel,</L>
<L>She by her Starch and Steel;</L>
<L>Which &s;acred Oath I kept, but &s;he hers broke,</L>
<L>And turn'd it into &s;moak.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<PB N="25" REF="17">
<L><HI>Hartford,</HI> now <HI>Hatesford,</HI> which my <HI>Heartsford</HI></L>
<L>Be ever ruinous, as thou art this day;</L>
<L>Becau&s;e thou bred&s;t this well wa&s;h'd Laundry La&s;s, was&punc;</L>
<L>Let <HI>Ware</HI> beguile thee of thy rich road way;</L>
<L>And may thy <HI>Craifi&s;h</HI> River fall from thee</L>
<L>As &s;he for&s;aketh me:</L>
<L>But he that hath her I doe wi&s;h no wor&s;e,</L>
<L>Then a true <HI>Sedgely</HI> cur&s;e.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>You Chargers from my hands that lu&s;tre drew,</L>
<L>To brighten you to Starres, but &s;potle&s;&s;e faire;</L>
<L>You twinkling Sawcers, Con&s;tellations new,</L>
<L>And glazing Platters, which like Comets are,</L>
<L>Be ever dark, let neither Chalk nor Sand,</L>
<L>Nor the Oily circling hand</L>
<L>For evermore re-kindle you againe,</L>
<L>But mourn you for my pain.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Draw me the brave&s;t Spit that e're was bent</L>
<L>With ma&s;&s;y Member of laborious bea&s;t;</L>
<L>Drill me from Mouth to Taile incontinent,</L>
<L>Dre&s;&s;e me and di&s;h me at the Nuptiall Fea&s;t,</L>
<L>Thus for her Love and lo&s;&s;e, poor <HI>Hankin</HI> dyes,</L>
<L>His amorous Soule down flies</L>
<L>To th'bottome of the Cellar, there to dwell;</L>
<L><HI>Su&s;an,</HI> farewell, farewell.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<PB N="26" REF="18">
<HEAD>Some Gentlemen &s;hut out of their &s;eats in <HI>Pauls,</HI> while they went to drinke.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>NOwnes, Gentlemen, how now? &s;hut out?</L>
<L>Mu&s;t we, mix'd with the zealous rout,</L>
<L>Stand hoofeing on the vulgar &s;tone,</L>
<L>To hear the <HI>Cheuri-ille&s;on?</HI></L>
<L>Fir&s;t, Let the Organs, one by one,</L>
<L>Treble their Lamentation;</L>
<L>And the Quyries &s;ing, till they</L>
<L>For want of moi&s;ture fall to play,</L>
<L>Ere it &s;hall be &s;aid, that I</L>
<L>Let my choice devotions fly</L>
<L>Up from hence, in th'foul-mouth'd peal</L>
<L>Of Prentice Ori&s;ons, where my zeal</L>
<L>Shall &s;tand cheap-rated, faith, for why?</L>
<L>The be&s;t &s;eat's &s;hut, and we put by.</L>
<L>We did but &s;tep a&s;ide awhile</L>
<L>With juyce of Grapes our Lamps to oyl;</L>
<L>Where &s;taying long, we came too late,</L>
<L>And &s;har'd the fooli&s;h Virgins fate.</L>
<L>Yet &s;aw I two or three within,</L>
<L>Faire Virgins, &s;uch as had no &s;in:</L>
<L>Or if they had, their worths high rate</L>
<L>Might it &s;oon tran&s;ub&s;tantiate</L>
<L>Into a Vertue, who&s;e lea&s;t &s;hare,</L>
<L>A branch of holy Saints might wear.</L>
<L><PB N="27" REF="18">
Should great Saint <HI>Peter</HI> me deny</L>
<L>Pa&s;&s;age, t'enjoy &s;uch company,</L>
<L>We &s;hould fall foule, unle&s;&s;e that he</L>
<L>Put me to them, or them to me.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<HEAD>&V;pon a lame tired Hor&s;e.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>ABout the time&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;</L>
<L><HI>Aurora</HI> in her Mantle wrapp'd the clime,</L>
<L>When the bright Day, and thir&s;ty Sun had quaft</L>
<L>A thou&s;and Flagons, for his mornings draught,</L>
<L>Brim full with Pearly dew; I got me up,</L>
<L>And ta&s;ted freely of a liberall cup;</L>
<L>Pur&s;u'd my journey, on a Hor&s;e as poor</L>
<L>As is a &s;terved Beggar at the door,</L>
<L>Or <HI>Pharaoh</HI>'s leane&s;t Cow; there was as much</L>
<L>Fle&s;h on his back, as on an old Mans Crutch.</L>
<L>Now men ob&s;erving, that I was &s;o fat,</L>
<L>And dur&s;t ride on a Hor&s;e &s;o lean as that,</L>
<L>Did &s;coff and jeer me, as I pa&s;s'd the way,</L>
<L>And, as I thought did one to th'other &s;ay,</L>
<L>The hor&s;e has &s;trip'd his fle&s;h, and on his back</L>
<L>Does carry it, as Pedlars doe a Pack.</L>
<L>For I have often &s;een upon my troth,</L>
<L>Poor ragged Pedlars carry packs of Cloth.</L>
<L>Another &s;wore, that I was &s;ome Saint <HI>Paul,</HI></L>
<L>Becau&s;e my Hor&s;e was &s;o &s;pirituall.</L>
<L><PB N="28" REF="19">
A Clown unto his fellowes cryes, Gods &s;oes,</L>
<L>I thinke this Hor&s;e has Corns upon his Toes.</L>
<L>Another &s;wore, that I no more did ride,</L>
<L>Then Children, that a Hobby-hor&s;e be&s;tride;</L>
<L>Another &s;aid, my hor&s;e did &s;ure intend,</L>
<L>To tell each &s;tep unto his journeyes end.</L>
<L>But, e're I got out of a Lane to th'Heath,</L>
<L>I'le take my oath, they jeer'd my Hor&s;e to death.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<HEAD>&V;pon a Surfeit caught by drinking evill Sack, at the George Tavern in Southwark.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>WHo thought that &s;uch a &s;torm, <HI>Ned,</HI> when our Souls,</L>
<L>From the Calme Harbour of Dome&s;tick Bowles,</L>
<L>Would needs abord the <HI>George,</HI> t'embark our brain,</L>
<L>To the <HI>Cantabrian</HI> Calenture of <HI>Spain?</HI></L>
<L>Oh had&s;t thou &s;een, (and happy are thy eyes</L>
<L>That did not &s;ee) that Fridayes Crudities,</L>
<L>Such <HI>Hecatombs</HI> of indige&s;ted Sack</L>
<L>Retreated up my throat, oh what a wrack</L>
<L>'Twas, to a thick-brain'd paper-Boat of wit,</L>
<L>In a Canary voyage to be &s;plit?</L>
<L>We drank old Lees, &amp; gave our heads a fraught,</L>
<L>Of that <HI>Don Pedro</HI> left in Eighty Eight:</L>
<L>A bawdy hou&s;e would &s;corne it, 'twas too poor,</L>
<L>For tho&s;e that play at Noddy on the &s;core.</L>
<L><PB N="29" REF="19">
Felt-makers had refus'd it; Nay, I think</L>
<L>The Deuill would abhorre &s;uch po&s;&s;et-drink.</L>
<L><HI>Bacchus,</HI> I'm &s;ure dete&s;ts it, 'tis too bad</L>
<L>For Hereticks, a Friar would be mad</L>
<L>To ble&s;&s;e &s;uch vile uncon&s;ecrable &s;tuffe,</L>
<L>And Browni&s;ts would conclude it good enough</L>
<L>For &s;uch a Sacrifice: I'ld wi&s;h no wor&s;e</L>
<L>A draught unto the Ignorant, nor cur&s;e</L>
<L>My foes beyond it. Not a Bead&s;-man &s;ure&punc;</L>
<L>At a Town Funerall would it endure;</L>
<L>Much le&s;&s;e a Man of &s;ence; 'twere an affront,</L>
<L>To put an under&s;tanding Fur upon't,</L>
<L>Or <HI>Burgo Mi&s;tris:</HI> It is &s;uch a thing</L>
<L>Would dam a Vintner at a Chri&s;tening.</L>
<L>Yet we mu&s;t quaff the&s;e dregs, and be con&s;train'd</L>
<L>To what the L<GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="faint" RESP="apex" EXTENT="1 letter">ety, &s;even years &s;ince di&s;dain'd&punc;</L>
<L>Oh would I might turne Poet for an houre,</L>
<L>To Satyrize with a vindictive power</L>
<L>Again&s;t the Drawer! or I could de&s;ire</L>
<L>Old <HI>Iohn&s;ons</HI> head had &s;calded in this fire&punc;</L>
<L>How would he rage, and bring <HI>Apollo</HI> down</L>
<L>To &s;cold with <HI>Bacchus,</HI> and depo&s;e the Clown,</L>
<L>For his ill government, and &s;o confute</L>
<L>Our Poet Apes, that doe &s;o much impute</L>
<L>Unto the grapes in&s;pirement! Let them &s;it,</L>
<L>And from the winepre&s;&s;e, &s;queeze a ba&s;tard wit</L>
<L>But I, while <HI>Sever<GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="faint" RESP="apex" EXTENT="1 letter">,</HI> and old <HI>Avon</HI> can</L>
<L>Afford a draught; while there's a <HI>Cider-</HI>Man,</L>
<L>Or a <HI>Methegleni&s;t,</HI> while there's a Cup</L>
<L>Of <HI>Beer</HI> or <HI>Ale,</HI> I doe for&s;wear to &s;up</L>
<L><PB N="30" REF="20">
Of wicked Sack: Thus Solemn I come from it,</L>
<L>No dog would e're return to &s;uch a vomit.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<HEAD>The Low&s;e'<HI>s</HI> Peregrination.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>DI&s;coveries of late have been made by ad|venture,</L>
<L>Where many a pa<GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="faint" RESP="apex" EXTENT="1 letter">e hath been &s;et on the Tenter,</L>
<L>And many a Tale hath been told more then true is,</L>
<L>How Whales have been &s;erv'd whole, to Saylors in Brewis.</L>
<L>But here's a poor low&s;e, by the&s;e pre&s;ents de&s;ies</L>
<L>The Catalogue of old <HI>Mandevils</HI> Lyes:</L>
<L>And this I report of a certaine.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>My Father and Mother, when fir&s;t they joyn'd paunches,</L>
<L>Begot me betwen an old Pedlers haunches;</L>
<L>Where grown to a Creeper, I know how a pox I</L>
<L>Got to &s;uck by chance of the bloud of his doxie.</L>
<L>Where finding the &s;weetne&s;&s;e of this my new pa&s;ture,</L>
<L>I left the bones of my pockified Ma&s;ter,</L>
<L>And there I &s;truck in for a fortune.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<PB N="31" REF="20">
<L>A Lord of this Land that lov'd a Bum well,</L>
<L>Did lie-with this Mort one night in the Strummel,</L>
<L>I cling'd me fa&s;t to him, and left my companions,</L>
<L>I &s;corn'd to conver&s;e more with Tatterdemalians;</L>
<L>But &s;ued to Sir <HI>Giles,</HI> to promi&s;e in a Patent,</L>
<L>That my Heires might enjoy clean Linnen and Sattin;</L>
<L>But the Parliament cro&s;s'd my Intention.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>This Lord that I follow'd delighted in Tennis,</L>
<L>He &s;weat out my fat with going to <HI>Venice,</HI></L>
<L>Where with a brave <HI>Donna,</HI> in &s;ingle <HI>Duello,</HI></L>
<L>He left me behinde him within the <HI>Burdello;</HI></L>
<L>Where leacherous pa&s;&s;ages I did di&s;cover,</L>
<L>Betwixt <HI>Bonna Roba,</HI> and <HI>Diego</HI> her Lover,</L>
<L>Youl'd wonder to heare the di&s;cour&s;e of't.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>The u&s;e of the <HI>Dildo</HI> they had without mea&s;ure,</L>
<L>Behind and before, they have it at plea&s;ure;</L>
<L>All <HI>Aretines</HI> wayes, they practice with labour,</L>
<L>An <HI>Eunuch</HI> they hate like <HI>Bethlem</HI> Gabor;</L>
<L>Counting the <HI>Engli&s;h</HI> man but as a Stallion,</L>
<L>Leaving the Goat unto the <HI>Italian:</HI></L>
<L>And this is the truth that I tell you.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Thus living with wonder, e&s;caping the talent,</L>
<L>Of Citizen, Clown, Whore, Lawyer, and Gallant,</L>
<L>At la&s;t came a Soldier, I nimbly did ferk him,</L>
<L>Up the greazy skirts of<GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="faint" RESP="apex" EXTENT="1 letter">s robu&s;tuous Buff Jerkin;</L>
<L>Where finding companions, without any harm I</L>
<L>Was brought before <HI>Breda,</HI> to <HI>Spinola</HI>'s Army:</L>
<L>And there I remaine of a certain.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<PB N="32" REF="21">
<HEAD>King <HI>Oberon's</HI> Apparell.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>WHen the Monthly horned Queen</L>
<L>Grew jealous, that the Stars had &s;een</L>
<L>Her ri&s;ing from <HI>Endymions</HI> armes,</L>
<L>In rage, &s;he throws her mi&s;ty charmes</L>
<L>Into the bo&s;ome of the night,</L>
<L>To dim their curious prying light.</L>
<L>Then did the dwarfi&s;h Faery Elves</L>
<L>(Having fir&s;t attir'd them&s;elves)</L>
<L>Prepare to dre&s;&s;e their <HI>Oberon</HI> King</L>
<L>In highe&s;t robes, for revelling.</L>
<L>In a Cobweb &s;hirt, more thin</L>
<L>Then ever Spider &s;ince could &s;pin,</L>
<L>Bleach'd by the whitene&s;&s;e of the Snow,</L>
<L>As the &s;tormy windes did blow</L>
<L>It in the va&s;t and freezing aire;</L>
<L>No &s;hirt halfe &s;o fine, &s;o faire.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>A rich Wa&s;tcoat they did bring</L>
<L>Made of the Trout flies gilded wing,</L>
<L>At that his Elve&s;hip, gan to fret,</L>
<L>Swearing it would make him &s;weat,</L>
<L>Even with its weight, and needs would wear</L>
<L>His Wa&s;tcoat wove of downy haire,</L>
<L>New &s;haven from an <HI>Eunuch</HI>'s chin;</L>
<L>That pleas'd him well, 'twas wondrous thin.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<PB N="33" REF="21">
<L>The out-&s;ide of his Doublet was</L>
<L>Made of the four-leav'd true-love gra&s;&s;e,</L>
<L>On which was &s;et &s;o fine a glo&s;&s;e,</L>
<L>By the oyle of cri&s;py mo&s;&s;e;</L>
<L>That through a mi&s;t, and &s;tarry light,</L>
<L>It made a Rainbow every night.</L>
<L>On every Seam, there was a Lace</L>
<L>Drawn by the unctuous Snailes &s;low trace;</L>
<L>To it, the pure&s;t Silver thread</L>
<L>Compar'd, did look like dull pale Lead.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Each Button was a &s;parkling eye</L>
<L>T'ane from the &s;peckled Adders Frye,</L>
<L>Which in a gloomy night, and dark,</L>
<L>Twinckled like a fiery &s;park:</L>
<L>And, for coolne&s;&s;e, next his skin,</L>
<L>'Twas with white Poppy lin'd within.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>His Breeches of that Fleece were wrought,</L>
<L>Which from <HI>Colchos Ja&s;on</HI> brought;</L>
<L>Spun into &s;o fine a Yarne,</L>
<L>That mortals might it not di&s;cerne;</L>
<L>Wove by <HI>Arachne,</HI> in her Loom,</L>
<L>Ju&s;t before &s;he had her doom;</L>
<L>Dy'd crim&s;on with a Maidens blu&s;h,</L>
<L>And lyn'd with <HI>Dandely</HI> on Plu&s;h.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>A rich mantle he did wear</L>
<L>Made of <HI>Tin&s;el Go&s;&s;amer,</HI></L>
<L>Be&s;tarred over with a few</L>
<L>Dyamond drops of morning dew.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>His Cap was all of Ladies love,</L>
<L>So pa&s;&s;ing light, that it did move,</L>
<L><PB N="34" REF="22">
If any humming Gnat or Fly</L>
<L>But buzz'd the ayre, in pa&s;&s;ing by;</L>
<L>About it was a wreath of Pearle,</L>
<L>Drop'd from the eyes of &s;ome poor girle</L>
<L>Pinch'd, becau&s;e &s;he had forgot</L>
<L>To leave faire water in the pot.</L>
<L>And for Feather, he did weare</L>
<L>Old <HI>Ni&s;us</HI> fatall purple haire.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>The &s;word they girded on his Thigh,</L>
<L>Was &s;malle&s;t blade of fine&s;t Rye.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>A paire of Buskins they did bring</L>
<L>Of the Cow Ladyes Corall wing;</L>
<L>Powder'd o're with &s;pots of Jet,</L>
<L>And lin'd with purple-Violet.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>His Belt was made of mirtle leaves,</L>
<L>Plaited in &s;mall curious threaves,</L>
<L>Be&s;et with <HI>Amber</HI> Cow&s;lip &s;tudds,</L>
<L>And fring'd about with Daizy Budds.</L>
<L>In which his Bugle horne was hung,</L>
<L>Made of the babbling Eccho's tongue;</L>
<L>Which &s;et unto his Moon-burn'd lip,</L>
<L>He windes, and then his Faeries skip:</L>
<L>At that, the lazy dawn'gan &s;ound,</L>
<L>And each did trip a Faery round.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<PB N="35" REF="22">
<HEAD>A Poets farewell to his thred bare Cloak.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>CLoak (if I &s;o may call thee) though thou art</L>
<L>My old acquaintance, prithee now let's part;</L>
<L>Thou wer't my equall friend in thirty one,</L>
<L>But now thou look'&s;t like a meer hanger on,</L>
<L>And art &s;o u&s;ele&s;&s;e to me, I &s;carce know</L>
<L>Sometimes whether I have thee on or no.</L>
<L>But this I needs mu&s;t &s;ay, when thou go'&s;t from me,</L>
<L>The&s;e ten years thou ha&s;t been no burden to me:</L>
<L>Yet that's thy accu&s;ation; for if I</L>
<L>Divorce thee from me, 'tis for Levity.</L>
<L>Thou ha&s;t abus'd my Bed, that is, thou ha&s;t</L>
<L>Not kept me warme, when thou wer't over-ca&s;t.</L>
<L>Tran&s;parent garment, proof again&s;t all weather,</L>
<L>Men wonder by what art thou hang'&s;t together;</L>
<L>Nor can the eyes of the be&s;t rea&s;on pry</L>
<L>Into this new Occult Geometry.</L>
<L>A fellow t'other day but ca&s;t his eye on,</L>
<L>And &s;wore I was mantled in <HI>Dent de lion.</HI></L>
<L>Another ask't me (who was &s;omewhat bolder)</L>
<L>Whether I wore a Love-bagge on my &s;houlder?</L>
<L>I feare a fire, as faire maids the &s;mall poxe,</L>
<L>And dare not look towards a Tinder-boxe,</L>
<L><PB N="36" REF="23">
Nor him that &s;ells'em up and downe; I know,</L>
<L>If he comes neer me, 'tis but touch and goe.</L>
<L>A red-fac'd fellow frights me, though &s;ome fear</L>
<L>That w^c^h makes his <HI>no&s;e</HI> red, makes my <HI>cloak</HI> bare.</L>
<L>They &s;ay my thick Back, and thin Cloak appear,</L>
<L>Very like powder'd Beef, and Vinegar.</L>
<L>An other vow'd (who&s;e tongue had no re&s;tri|ction)</L>
<L>It was no garment, but the Poets fiction.</L>
<L>Did ever man di&s;cover &s;uch a knack,</L>
<L>To walk in <HI>Querpo</HI> with a Cloak on's back!</L>
<L>A very zealous brother did begin</L>
<L>To jeer and &s;ay, Sir, your Original &s;inne</L>
<L>Is not wa&s;h'd off (pray do not take it ill)</L>
<L>I &s;ee, you weare your Fathers Fig-leaves &s;till.</L>
<L>A Scholar (in an elevated thought)</L>
<L>Prote&s;ted, 'Twas the Webbe <HI>Arachne</HI> wrought</L>
<L>When &s;he contended with <HI>Minerva:</HI> but</L>
<L>Another Ra&s;chal had his finger cut,</L>
<L>And begg'd a piece to wrap about it. Thus</L>
<L>You &s;ee (kind Cobwebs) how they laugh at us.</L>
<L>Good Cambrick Lawn, depart; let me not be</L>
<L>For ever fetter'd thus in Tiffany.</L>
<L>Although I never yet did merit prai&s;e,</L>
<L>I'de rather have my &s;houlders crown'd with Bays</L>
<L>Than hung with Cypre&s;&s;e. If this fortune be</L>
<L>Alwayes dependant on poore Poetry,</L>
<L>I would my kinder de&s;tiny would call</L>
<L>Me to be one o'th'Clerks of <HI>Blackwell-hall;</HI></L>
<L>For though their ea&s;ie &s;tudies are more dull,</L>
<L>Yet what they want in wit, they have in wool.</L>
<L><PB N="37" REF="23">
Once more farewell, the&s;e are no times for thee,</L>
<L>Thick Cloaks are onely fit for knavery.</L>
<L>The onely Cloaks that now are mo&s;t in fa&s;hion</L>
<L>Are Liberty, Religion, Reformation:</L>
<L>All the&s;e are fac'd with zeal, and button'd down</L>
<L>With Jewels dropt from an imperiall Crowne.</L>
<L>He that would Cloak it in the new Tran&s;lation,</L>
<L>Mu&s;t have his Taylor cut it Pulpit-fa&s;hion.</L>
<L>Doe not appear within the City; there</L>
<L>They minde not what men are, but what they weave.</L>
<L>The habit &s;peaks the Man. How can&s;t thou thrive</L>
<L>When a good Cloak's a Repre&s;entative?</L>
<L>The Females will not wear thee, they put on</L>
<L>Such Cloaks as doe ob&s;cure the ri&s;ing Sunne.</L>
<L>How can'&s;t thou hope for entertainment, when</L>
<L>Women make Cloaks ev'n of Committee men?</L>
<L>Farewell good Cover-wit, upon the bryer</L>
<L>I'le hang thee up; if any doe enquire</L>
<L>Where his braines were that let his Cloak thus &s;wing,</L>
<L>Tell him, his wits are gone a wool-gathering.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<HEAD>&V;pon a Fart unluckily let.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>WEll Madam, wel, the Fart you put upon me</L>
<L>Hath in this Kingdome almo&s;t quite un-</L>
<L>Many a boy&s;trous &s;torm, &amp; bitter gu&s;t</L>
<L>Have I endur'd, by Sea, and more I mu&s;t: done me.</L>
<L>But of all &s;torms by Land, to me 'tis true,</L>
<L>This is the foule&s;t bla&s;t that ever blew.</L>
<L><PB N="38" REF="24">
Not that it can &s;o much impaire my credit,</L>
<L>But that I dare pronounce, 'twas I, that did it.</L>
<L>For when I thought to plea&s;e you with a &s;ong,</L>
<L>'Twas but a &s;traine too low that did me wrong;</L>
<L>Yet winged Fame will yet divulge it &s;o,</L>
<L>That I &s;hall heare of't where &s;oe're I goe,</L>
<L>To &s;ee my friends, I now no longer dare,</L>
<L>Becau&s;e my Fart will be before me there.</L>
<L>Nay more, which is to me my harde&s;t doom,</L>
<L>I long to &s;ee you mo&s;t, but dare not come;</L>
<L>For if by chance or hap, we meet together,</L>
<L>You taunt me with, what winde, Sir, blew you hither?</L>
<L>If I deny to tell, you will not &s;ayle,</L>
<L>I thought your voice, Sir, would have drown'd your Tale;</L>
<L>Thus am I hamper'd where&s;oe're you meet me,</L>
<L>And thus, in&s;tead of better termes you greet me.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>I never held it &s;uch a heinous crime,</L>
<L>A Fart was lucky held, in former time;</L>
<L>A Foxe of old, being de&s;titute of food,</L>
<L>Farted, and &s;aid, this newes mu&s;t needs be good,</L>
<L>I &s;hall have food, I know, without delay,</L>
<L>Mine Ar&s;e doth &s;ing &s;o merrily to day;</L>
<L>And &s;o they &s;ay he had. But yet you &s;ee</L>
<L>The Foxes ble&s;&s;ing proves a cur&s;e to me.</L>
<L>How much I wronged am, the ca&s;e is cleare,</L>
<L>As I &s;hall plainly make it to appear.</L>
<L>As thus, of all men let me be for&s;aken,</L>
<L>If of a Fart can any hold be taken:</L>
<L><PB N="39" REF="24">
For 'tis a Bla&s;t, and we Recorded finde,</L>
<L>King <HI>Aeolus</HI> alone commands the winde.</L>
<L>Why &s;hould I then u&s;urp, and undertake</L>
<L>The Subject of a Royall Prince to make</L>
<L>My Pri&s;oner? No, but as my duty bindes,</L>
<L>Leave that command unto the King of windes.</L>
<L>So, when I found him &s;trugling to depart,</L>
<L>I freely gave him leave with all my heart.</L>
<L>Then judge you, gentle Ladyes, of my wrong,</L>
<L>Am I not well requited for my Song?</L>
<L>All the revenge that I require is this,</L>
<L>That you may Fart as oft as e're you pi&s;&s;e;</L>
<L>So may you chance, the next time that we meet,</L>
<L>To vie the Ruffe, and I not dare to &s;ee't.</L>
<L>In the meane time, on knees devoutly bended,</L>
<L>My <HI>Tongue</HI> craves pardon, if my <HI>Taile</HI> offended.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<HEAD>A young Man courting an old Widow.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>DAme <HI>Hecuba,</HI> fye, be not coy, that look</L>
<L>How it drew up your wrinkles, like a Book</L>
<L>Of <HI>Vellam,</HI> at a fire? glazen your eyes</L>
<L>And view this face, the&s;e limbs, here vertue lies</L>
<L>Re&s;torative, will make you &s;mooth and &s;traight,</L>
<L>As you were in the &s;ixth of <HI>Henry</HI> th'eighth.</L>
<L>Come, let us ki&s;&s;e, that &s;olitary Tusk,</L>
<L>As Garlick &s;trong, but whol&s;omer then Musk,</L>
<L>Invites me neerer yet; the hotte&s;t fires</L>
<L>Ne're &s;corch'd, as doe your a&s;hes my de&s;ires.</L>
<L><PB N="40" REF="25">
Time was, I've heard my Grandfather report</L>
<L>When tho&s;e eyes drew more company to Court</L>
<L>Then hope of Honour; they have vertue &s;till,</L>
<L>And work upon my brea&s;t, for as they dril</L>
<L>That humour down your yawning cheeks, my blood</L>
<L>Grows dull, congeals, &amp; thickens with your Mud.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Somewhat youl'd &s;ay now! I perceive your gums</L>
<L>Are labouring for't, as when we brace our Drums,</L>
<L>To make them &s;ound the better: oh take heed,</L>
<L>A little winde &s;hivers a cracking reed.</L>
<L>One &s;yllable will fetch your lungs up; &s;tay</L>
<L>And make but &s;ignes, I'le gue&s;&s;e what you would &s;ay.</L>
<L>Good Granam, doe but nod your tottering head,</L>
<L>And &s;hake your bunch of keys, you'l rai&s;e the</L>
<L>Why may not you and I be one? there be</L>
<L>In one world, &s;everall tempers, Harmony dead.</L>
<L>Is made up thus, and Contraries pre&s;erve</L>
<L>That &s;ubject, where they doe each other &s;erve.</L>
<L>Nor are we therefore over neer akin,</L>
<L>Becau&s;e your Granchilds Niece hath marryed bin</L>
<L>To my great Unkle; 'Twas a lovely paire,</L>
<L>They &s;ay, who knew them then, equally faire</L>
<L>In yeares and Fortune: this a Prie&s;t may doe,</L>
<L>Spight of &s;terne Natures Laws, 'twixt me &amp; you.</L>
<L>He can take you as y'are, me in my prime,</L>
<L>And tye up in one knot both ends of Time;</L>
<L>'Mong&s;t all your Coffers and your bags of Gold,</L>
<L>A cunning Gold&s;mith ever likes the old.</L>
<L>The new may prove as currant, and may pa&s;&s;e</L>
<L>From hand to hand, as fa&s;t as a young La&s;&s;e.</L>
<L><PB N="41" REF="25">
But you'r more grave and &s;tay'd, come, pray con&s;ent,</L>
<L>And blaze but one good &s;nuff, e're you be &s;pent.</L>
<L>Touch-wood &s;hould take fire &s;oone&s;t, as it falls,</L>
<L>Fre&s;h joy clings fully clo&s;e to aged walls.</L>
<L>So let us joyn thus in one volume bound,</L>
<L>A <HI>Chronicle</HI> and <HI>Corant</HI> may be found.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<HEAD>&V;pon Che&s;&s;e. play. To Dr. <HI>Budden.</HI></HEAD>
<LG>
<L>TO thee Laws Oracle, who had&s;t the power</L>
<L>To wage my pens imployment for an houre,</L>
<L>I &s;end no Frogs, nor Mice, Pigmees nor Cranes,</L>
<L>Giants nor Gods, which trouble &s;o the braines</L>
<L>Of feigbning Poets; nor my lei&s;ure &s;ings</L>
<L>The Counterbuffs of the foure painted Kings:</L>
<L>Tho&s;e worthy Combatants have had their times,</L>
<L>And Battells &s;ung in thou&s;and curious rimes.</L>
<L>I &s;ing the fierce Alarme, and direfull &s;troke</L>
<L>Of pa&s;&s;ing timbred men, all heart of Oake;</L>
<L>Men that &s;corne Armes defen&s;ive, nor, in heat</L>
<L>Of bloudy broiles, complaine of du&s;t or &s;weat.</L>
<L>Men that doe thinke, no victory is fit</L>
<L>That's not compacted by the reach of wit.</L>
<L>Men that an <HI>Ambu&s;cado</HI> know to lay,</L>
<L>T'entrap the Foe in his retiring way;</L>
<L>Plot Stratagems, and teach their braines t'indite</L>
<L>What place is fitte&s;t to employ their might.</L>
<L>Dull down-right blowes, are fit for ru&s;tick wits,</L>
<L>Within the compa&s;&s;e of who&s;e &s;calp there &s;its</L>
<L><PB N="42" REF="26">
A homebred &s;en&s;e, weak apprehen&s;ion,</L>
<L>That &s;trike the fir&s;t they ca&s;t their eye upon;</L>
<L>Tho&s;e are the Chaff of Soldiers, but this Corn</L>
<L>Of choice&s;t men, at highe&s;t rate is born.</L>
<L>Here life is precious, where the meane&s;t man</L>
<L>Is guarded by the Noble&s;t, who doe &s;can,</L>
<L>(Not what a poor man is, but) what may prove,</L>
<L>If bravely to the Armies head he move;</L>
<L>Such may his valour be, he may of right</L>
<L>Be an Executor to Rook or Knight,</L>
<L>Who&s;e Lands fall to the King (their Ma&s;ter dead)</L>
<L>With which this Pawn lives to be honoured,</L>
<L>And doe his Prince good &s;ervice. Tell me then,</L>
<L>Thou that do&s;t di&s;tribute Ju&s;tice to men,</L>
<L>Mu&s;t Honours ever follow blood? or &s;hould</L>
<L>Vertue be grac'd, though in the meane&s;t Mould?</L>
<L>Tell me, thou Man of Peace, are not the&s;e Wars</L>
<L>Lawfull and commendable, where the &s;cars</L>
<L>Are for Command, where either Enemy</L>
<L>Seeks to him&s;elfe a fifth great Monarchy?</L>
<L>Where neither knows his confines, but each foot</L>
<L>Is his, where he or his, can take firme root?</L>
<L>Pity with me, the fortunes of tho&s;e Kings,</L>
<L>Who&s;e battell &s;uch an untaught Poet &s;ings.</L>
<L>Know, that great <HI>Alexander</HI> could not have</L>
<L>An <HI>Homer;</HI> and remember, in wars brave,</L>
<L>Each deeds a Poem, and he writes it be&s;t</L>
<L>Who doth engrave it on a conquered Cre&s;t.</L>
<L>If I offend, part of the blame is thine,</L>
<L>Thou gav'&s;t the Theam, I did but frame the Line.</L>
<L><PB N="43" REF="26">
Two angry Kings weary of lingring peace,</L>
<L>Challenge the field, all Concord now mu&s;t cea&s;e;</L>
<L>So do their &s;tomacks with fir'd anger burn,</L>
<L>Nothing but wounds, bloud, death, mu&s;t &s;erve the turne.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>They pitch'd their field in a faire chequer'd &s;quare,</L>
<L>Each form two Squadrons, in the former are</L>
<L>The common Soldiers, who&s;e courageous &s;cope</L>
<L>Is venturing their lives, like Fortune, Hope.</L>
<L>The&s;e &s;til march on, &amp; dare not break their rank,</L>
<L>But for to kill a Foe, then 'tis their prank</L>
<L>To make the ground good 'gain&s;t the Enemy,</L>
<L>Till by a greater force &s;ubdu'd, they dye.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>The Kings for &s;afety, in mid battell &s;tand,</L>
<L>And Mar&s;hal all their Nobles on each hand.</L>
<L>Next either King, an <HI>Amazonian Queen,</HI></L>
<L>Like our &s;ixt <HI>Henryes Margaret</HI> is &s;een,</L>
<L>Ready to &s;coure the Field, corner, or &s;quare,</L>
<L>She &s;uccours, where the Troops di&s;tre&s;&s;ed are.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Next &s;tand two <HI>Mytred Bi&s;hops</HI> which in War</L>
<L>Forget their Calling, vent'ring many a &s;car</L>
<L>In Princes cau&s;e, yet mu&s;t no Bi&s;hop &s;tray,</L>
<L>But leave the broad, and keep the narrow way.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Next are two ventrous Knights, who&s;e nimble feet</L>
<L>Leap o're mens heads, &s;corning to think it meet</L>
<L>They &s;hould &s;tand Centinells, while the poor Pawnes,</L>
<L>With danger of their lives do &s;cour the Lawnes.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<PB N="44" REF="27">
<L>The Battells out-&s;pread wings, two Rooks doe guard,</L>
<L>The&s;e flanke the field &s;o well, that there is barr'd</L>
<L>All &s;ide a&s;&s;aults; the&s;e, for their valours grace,</L>
<L>(The King in danger) with him change their place.</L>
<L>But Maje&s;ty mu&s;t keep a &s;etled pace,</L>
<L>Rides not in po&s;t, moves to the neare&s;t place,</L>
<L>That's to his Standart; If there be report</L>
<L>Of the Kings danger, all troops may re&s;ort.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>But now they &s;ound Alarme, each heart doth &s;well</L>
<L>With wrath, &s;trikes in the name of <HI>Chri&s;tabel,</HI></L>
<L>Strike, &s;trike, be not aga&s;t, Soldiers are bound</L>
<L>To fear no death, much le&s;&s;e to dread a wound.</L>
<L>Now without mercy dies the common Troop,</L>
<L>A Rook, a Bi&s;hop, and a Knight doth droop;</L>
<L>Yet neither boa&s;ts of Conque&s;t, though each hope</L>
<L>To win the field, which now is halfe laid ope</L>
<L>By Soldiers death; now dares a martial Queen</L>
<L>Check her Foe King, when &s;treight there &s;teps between</L>
<L>A vent'rous Soldier, or a Noble man</L>
<L>Who cares not for his life, &s;o be he can</L>
<L>From danger keep his King; he fears not death,</L>
<L>In Princes cau&s;e, that gives each Subject breath.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>But this <HI>Virago</HI> dyes, being left alone,</L>
<L>When &s;traight a nimble Soldier &s;teppeth on,</L>
<L>And through the thicke&s;t Troops hews out his way</L>
<L>And till he come to th'head doth never &s;tay.</L>
<L>This brave attempt de&s;erves the honouring;</L>
<L>The Queens colours are his, given by the King&punc;</L>
<L><PB N="45" REF="27">
Who knows that valour &s;hould not want reward,</L>
<L>And vent'rous &s;pirits, be&s;t keep a Princes guard.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Now is the War in heat, bloudy the Field,</L>
<L>Mercy is bani&s;h'd, none hath thought to yeild,</L>
<L>Ba&s;ely to beg his breath; the fame now ran,</L>
<L>That they mu&s;t fight it out, to the la&s;t man.</L>
<L>All Soldiers dye, but one, who to his King,</L>
<L>Griev'd with his great lo&s;&s;e, doth this comfort bring,</L>
<L>That their great Foe, who&s;e Troops are all now dead,</L>
<L>Mu&s;t to their &s;words, yeild up his conquer'd head.</L>
<L>Then with their Check, and Check on either hand,</L>
<L>The poor di&s;heartned King doth mated &s;tand.</L>
<L>Though thus to dye it be the Princes fate,</L>
<L>Who dares pronounce he had a whisking mate;</L>
<L>Who, rather then mumping forgoe the Field,</L>
<L>Joyes in the place he &s;tands, his breath to yeild?</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>But now the conquering couple want their breath,</L>
<L>Their fe&s;tered wounds doe rankle, &amp; grim death</L>
<L>Creeps through the ga&s;hes, down the Victors fall,</L>
<L>And then one generall Her&s;e entombs them all.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<PB N="46" REF="28">
<HEAD>The loo&s;e Wooer.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>THou do&s;t deny me, cau&s;e thou art a Wife,</L>
<L>Know, &s;he that's Marryed lives a &s;ingle life</L>
<L>That loves but one; abhor that Nuptiall cur&s;e,</L>
<L>Ty'd thee to him, for better and for wor&s;e.</L>
<L>Variety delights the active blood,</L>
<L>And Women the more common, the more good,</L>
<L>As all goods are; there's no Adultery,</L>
<L>And Marriage is the wor&s;t Monopoly.</L>
<L>The Learned <HI>Roman Clergy</HI> admits none</L>
<L>Of theirs to Marry; they love all, not one:</L>
<L>And every Nun can teach you 'tis as meet,</L>
<L>To change your Bedfellow, as &s;mock or &s;heet.</L>
<L>Say, would you be content onely to eate</L>
<L>Mutton or Beef, and ta&s;t no other meat?</L>
<L>It would grow to loath&s;om to you, and I know</L>
<L>You have two palats, and the be&s;t below.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<PB N="47" REF="28">
<HEAD>&V;pon the biting of Fleas.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>SUmmon up all the terrifying paines</L>
<L>That ever were invented by the braines</L>
<L>Of earthly Tyrants; Then de&s;cend to Hell,</L>
<L>And count the horrid tortures that doe dwell</L>
<L>In the darke Dungeon, where the horrid &s;tone</L>
<L>Makes <HI>Si&s;iphus</HI> his panting entrailes groane.</L>
<L>Where <HI>Tantalus</HI> (in th'mid&s;t of plenty cur&s;t)</L>
<L>Is doom'd to famine, and eternall thir&s;t;</L>
<L>Where the pale Gho&s;ts are la&s;h'd with whips of &s;teel,</L>
<L>Yet the&s;e are gentle, to the paines I feel.</L>
<L>Vex'd with a Thou&s;and <HI>Pigmy</HI> friends, and &s;uch</L>
<L>As dare not &s;tand the on&s;et of a touch.</L>
<L>Strange kind of Combatants, where Conque&s;t lies</L>
<L>In nimbly skipping from their Enemies,</L>
<L>While they, with eager fiercene&s;&s;e lay about</L>
<L>To catch the thing they faine would be without.</L>
<L>The&s;e &s;able furies bravely venture on,</L>
<L>But when I'gin t'oppo&s;e them, whip, th'are gone.</L>
<L>Doubtle&s;&s;e I think each is a <HI>Magick Dauncer,</HI></L>
<L>Bred up by &s;ome infernall <HI>Necromancer,</HI></L>
<L>But that I doe believe, none ere &s;earce knew</L>
<L>('Mong all their Spirits) &s;uch a damned crew.</L>
<L>Some, when they would expre&s;&s;e the gentle &s;ting</L>
<L>Of a &s;light paine, call it a Flea-biting.</L>
<L><PB N="48" REF="29">
But were they in my place, they &s;oon would finde</L>
<L>A cau&s;e &s;ufficient for to change their minde&punc;</L>
<L>Some, telling how they vex'd another, &s;ay</L>
<L>I &s;ent him with a Flea in's eare away,</L>
<L>Onely to &s;hew what trouble hath po&s;&s;e&s;t</L>
<L>Him, whom this little creature doth mole&s;t.</L>
<L>It is reported, that a Mou&s;e can daunt</L>
<L>The courage of the mighty <HI>Elephant.</HI></L>
<L>Compare my bigne&s;&s;e, and the Fleas to theirs,</L>
<L>And I have &s;maller rea&s;on for my feares,</L>
<L>And yet I tremble when I feel them bite;</L>
<L>Oh how they &s;ting my fle&s;h? was black-brow'd night,</L>
<L>And the whi&s;t &s;tilne&s;&s;e of it, made by Fate,</L>
<L>To make man happy or unfortunate?</L>
<L>If there be any happine&s;&s;e or re&s;t</L>
<L>In pangs of torture, I am fully ble&s;t.</L>
<L>All my five &s;ences are combin'd in one,</L>
<L>For, but my &s;ence of feeling, I have none,</L>
<L>And that is left me, to increa&s;e my &s;mart;</L>
<L>Bloud-&s;ucking Tyrants, will you nere depart?</L>
<L>Why doe you hang in Clu&s;ters on my skin?</L>
<L>Come one to one, and try what you can win.</L>
<L>You Coward <HI>Aethiop</HI> Vermine! Oh you Gods,</L>
<L>You are unju&s;t, to load me with &s;uch odds.</L>
<L>If <HI>Jove-</HI>born <HI>Hercules</HI> can't deale with two,</L>
<L>Then what can I again&s;t a Legion doe?</L>
<L>Their number frights me, not their &s;trength; I'le dare</L>
<L>The <HI>Lion, Panther, Tigar,</HI> or the <HI>Beare</HI></L>
<L>To an encounter, to be freed from the&s;e</L>
<L>Relentle&s;&s;e demy-Devills, cur&s;ed Fleas.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<PB N="49" REF="29">
<HEAD>&V;pon Madam <HI>Chevereuze</HI> &s;wimming over the Thames,</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>'TWas calm, and yet the Thames touch'd hea|ven to day,</L>
<L>The water did find out the Milky way,</L>
<L>When Madam <HI>Chevereuze</HI> by &s;wimming down,</L>
<L>Did the faire Thames the Qu<GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="faint" RESP="apex" EXTENT="1 letter"> of Rivers crown.</L>
<L>The humble Willows on the &s;hore grew proud</L>
<L>To &s;ee her in their &s;hade her body &s;hroud;</L>
<L>And meeting her the Swan (wont to pre&s;ume)</L>
<L>Bow'd to her whiter neck his &s;ullyed Plume.</L>
<L>Was not great <HI>Jove</HI> that Swan? &s;o &s;hap'd, he came</L>
<L>To <HI>Leda</HI>'s &s;ight; but Gods and Courtiers &s;hame</L>
<L>Twice to appeare alike; I rather dream</L>
<L><HI>Iove</HI> was not here, the Swan might be the &s;tream,</L>
<L>And took far greater plea&s;ure to be cool'd</L>
<L>In &s;ilver drops, then in his &s;howre of gold.</L>
<L>And now let <HI>Ari&s;totle</HI>'s Schollers tread</L>
<L>Their Ma&s;ters timele&s;s foot&s;teps to the dead,</L>
<L>In &s;earching out the deepe&s;t &s;ecret, which</L>
<L>Or earth or water may be thought mo&s;t rich.</L>
<L><HI>Venus</HI> by Proxie from the floud a&s;cends,</L>
<L>Bright <HI>Chevereuze</HI> the whole difference ends,</L>
<L>Adding &s;o great a trea&s;ure to the waves,</L>
<L>As the whole earth &s;eemes u&s;ele&s;s, but for graves.</L>
<L><PB N="50" REF="30">
Water above the Earth by nature lyes,</L>
<L>But &s;he hath plac'd it now above the skies.</L>
<L>The flame &s;he took, a &s;pirit of water drew,</L>
<L>Fram'd opall Raine, out of extracted Dew.</L>
<L>But her cha&s;t brea&s;t, cold as the Cloy&s;ter'd Nun,</L>
<L>Who&s;e Fro&s;t to Chry&s;tal might congeal the Sun,</L>
<L>So glaz'd the &s;tream, that <HI>Pylots</HI> then afloat,</L>
<L>Thought they might &s;afely land without a Boat.</L>
<L><HI>Iuly</HI> had &s;een the <HI>Thames</HI> in Ice involv'd,</L>
<L>Had it not been by her own beames di&s;&s;olv'd:</L>
<L>But yet &s;he left it Cordiall, 'twas no more</L>
<L>Thaw'd to &s;o weake a water as before,</L>
<L>El&s;e how could it have born all beauties fraight?</L>
<L>Of force it mu&s;t have &s;unke &s;o great a weight.</L>
<L>Have &s;unk her? where? how vainly doe I erre?</L>
<L>Who know all depths are &s;hallow unto her.</L>
<L>She dreads not in a River to be drown'd,</L>
<L>Who, then the Sea it &s;elfe, is more profound.</L>
<L>Small Ve&s;&s;ells &s;hake, the great Ship &s;afely rides,</L>
<L>And, like her Royall builder, awes the Tydes.</L>
<L>Above their fome, or rage, we &s;ee her float,</L>
<L>In her bright &s;corn, and, Madam, here's my Vote:</L>
<L>So may all troubled waves beneath you &s;hrink;</L>
<L>So may you &s;wim for ever, your foes &s;inke.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<PB N="51" REF="30">
<HEAD>&V;pon <HI>Aglaura</HI> in Folio.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>BY this large Margent did the Poet meane</L>
<L>To have a Comment writ upon the Scene?</L>
<L>Or is it that the Ladyes (who ne<GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="faint" RESP="apex" EXTENT="1 letter">re look</L>
<L>In any, but a Poem or Play-book)</L>
<L>May in each Page, have &s;pace to &s;cribble down</L>
<L>When &s;uch a Lord or Fa&s;hion came to town?</L>
<L>As <HI>Swaines</HI> in <HI>Almanacks</HI> accompt doe keep</L>
<L>When their Cow calv'd, and when they bought their Sheep?</L>
<L>Ink is the life of Paper, 'tis meet then</L>
<L>That this, w^c^h &s;cap'd the <HI>Pre&s;s,</HI> &s;hould feel the <HI>Pen.</HI></L>
<L>A Room with one &s;ide furni&s;h'd, or a Face,</L>
<L>Painted half way is but a foule di&s;grace.</L>
<L>This great Voluminous Pamphlet may be &s;aid</L>
<L>To be like one that hath more haire then head,</L>
<L>More excrement than body&punc; Trees that &s;prout</L>
<L>With broade&s;t leaves, have &s;till the &s;malle&s;t fruit.</L>
<L>When I &s;aw &s;o much white, I did begin</L>
<L>To think <HI>Aglaara</HI> either did lye in,</L>
<L>Or el&s;e did Penance, never did I &s;ee</L>
<L>(Unle&s;&s;e in Bills da&s;h'd in the Chancery)</L>
<L>So little in &s;o much, as if the feet</L>
<L>Of Poetry, like Law, were &s;old by th'&s;heet.</L>
<L>If this new fa&s;hion doe but la&s;t one year,</L>
<L>Poets, as Clerks, would make our Paper deare.</L>
<L><PB N="52" REF="31">
Doth not that Arti&s;t erre, and bla&s;t his fame,</L>
<L>Who &s;ets out pictures le&s;&s;er than the frame?</L>
<L>Was ever Chamberlain &s;o mad, to dare,</L>
<L>To lodge a child in the great bed at <HI>Ware?</HI></L>
<L><HI>Aglaura</HI> would plea&s;e better, did &s;he lie</L>
<L>In th' narrow bounds of an Epitome;</L>
<L>Pieces that are weaved of the fine&s;t twi&s;t,</L>
<L>As Silk and Plu&s;h, have &s;till more &s;tuff than li&s;t.</L>
<L>She that in <HI>Per&s;ian</HI> habits, made great brags,</L>
<L>Degenerates in this exce&s;&s;e of rags,</L>
<L>Who by her Gyant bulk, this onely gaines,</L>
<L>Perchance in Libraries to hang in chains.</L>
<L>'Tis not in Books, as Cloath; we never &s;ay,</L>
<L>Make <HI>London</HI> mea&s;ure, when we buy a Play;</L>
<L>But rather have them par'd; tho&s;e leaves be fair</L>
<L>To the judicious, which much &s;potted are.</L>
<L>Give me the &s;ociable pocket books,</L>
<L>The&s;e empty Folio's onely plea&s;e the looks.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<HEAD>&V;pon Lute-&s;crings Cate-aten.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>ARe the&s;e the &s;trings that Poets feigne,</L>
<L>Have clear'd the Air, &amp; calm'd the Maine?</L>
<L>Charm'd Wolves, and from the Mountain cre&s;ts</L>
<L>Made Forre&s;ts dance, with all their Bea&s;ts?</L>
<L>Could the&s;e neglected &s;hreds you &s;ee,</L>
<L>In&s;pire a Lute of Ivorie,</L>
<L>And make it &s;peak? oh then think what</L>
<L>Hath been committed by my Cat,</L>
<L><PB N="53" REF="31">
Who in the &s;ilence of this night,</L>
<L>Hath gnawn the&s;e cords, and marr'd them quite,</L>
<L>Leaving &s;uch relicts as may be</L>
<L>For frets, not for my Lute, but me.</L>
<L>Pu&s;&s;e, I will cur&s;e thee, mai&s;t thou dwell</L>
<L>With &s;ome dry Hermit in a Cel,</L>
<L>Where Rat ne're peep'd, where Mou&s;e ne're fed,</L>
<L>And Flies go &s;upperle&s;&s;e to bed:</L>
<L>Or with &s;ome clo&s;e-par'd Brother, where</L>
<L>Thoul't fa&s;t each Sabbath in the yeare,</L>
<L>Or el&s;e, profane, be hang'd on Monday,</L>
<L>For butchering a Mou&s;e on Sunday.</L>
<L>Or mai&s;t thou tumble from &s;ome tower,</L>
<L>And mi&s;&s;e to light upon all foure,</L>
<L>Taking a fall that may unty</L>
<L>Eight of nine lives and let them fly.</L>
<L>Or may the midnight embers &s;indge</L>
<L>Thy dainty coat, or <HI>Iane</HI> be&s;winge</L>
<L>Thy hyde, when &s;he &s;hall take thee biting</L>
<L>Her Chee&s;eclouts, or her hou&s;e be&mdash;</L>
<L>What, was there ne're a Rat nor Mou&s;e,</L>
<L>Nor Butry ope? nought in the hou&s;e</L>
<L>But harmle&s;&s;e Lute&s;trings, could &s;uffice</L>
<L>Thy paunch, and draw thy glaring eyes?</L>
<L>Did not thy con&s;cious &s;tomach finde</L>
<L>Nature profan'd, that kind with kind</L>
<L>Should &s;taunch his hunger? think on that,</L>
<L>Thou Caniball and <HI>Cyclops</HI> Cat.</L>
<L>For know, thou wretch, that every &s;tring</L>
<L>Is a cats gut, which Art doth bring</L>
<L><PB N="54" REF="32">
Into a thread; and now &s;uppo&s;e</L>
<L><HI>Dun&s;tan,</HI> that &s;nuff'd the Devills no&s;e,</L>
<L>Should bid the&s;e &s;trings revive, as once</L>
<L>He did the Calfe, from naked bones;</L>
<L>Or I to plague thee for thy &s;in,</L>
<L>Should draw a Circle, and begin</L>
<L>To Conjure, for I am, look to't,</L>
<L>An <HI>Oxford</HI> Scholer, and can doe't.</L>
<L>Then with three &s;ets of <HI>Mops</HI> and <HI>Mowes,</HI></L>
<L>Seaven of odd words, and Motley &s;howes,</L>
<L>A thou&s;and tricks, that may be taken</L>
<L>From <HI>Fau&s;tus, Lambe,</HI> or <HI>Frier-Bacon;</HI></L>
<L>I &s;hould begin to call my &s;trings</L>
<L>My Cattlings, and my Minikins;</L>
<L>And they re-catted, &s;treight &s;hould fall</L>
<L>To mew, to purre, to Caterwawle;</L>
<L>From Pu&s;&s;es belly, &s;ure as death,</L>
<L>Pu&s;&s;e &s;hould be an Enga&s;trumeth.</L>
<L>Pu&s;&s;e &s;hould be &s;ent for to the King,</L>
<L>For a &s;trange Bird or &s;ome rare thing.</L>
<L>Pu&s;&s;e &s;hould be &s;ought to farre and neer,</L>
<L>As &s;he &s;ome cunning woman were.</L>
<L>Pu&s;&s;e &s;hould be carried up and downe,</L>
<L>From Shire to Shire, from Town to Towne,</L>
<L>Like to the Cammell, leane as Hag,</L>
<L>The Elephant or Api&s;h Nag,</L>
<L>For a &s;trange &s;ight; Pu&s;&s;e &s;hould be &s;ung</L>
<L>In Low&s;ie Ballads, mid&s;t the throng,</L>
<L>At Markets, with as good a grace</L>
<L>As <HI>Agincourt,</HI> or <HI>Chevy</HI> Chace;</L>
<L><PB N="55" REF="32">
The <HI>Troy&punc;</HI> &s;prung <HI>Britain</HI> would forgoe</L>
<L>His Pedigree, he chanteth &s;o,</L>
<L>And &s;ing that <HI>Merlin</HI> (long decea&s;t)</L>
<L>Return'd is in a nine liv'd bea&s;t.</L>
<L>Thus Pu&s;&s;e thou &s;ee&s;t, what might betide thee,</L>
<L>But I forbear to hurt or chide thee.</L>
<L>For't may be Pu&s;&s;e was Melancholy,</L>
<L>And &s;o to make her blythe and Jolly,</L>
<L>Finding the&s;e &s;trings, &s;hel'd have a fit</L>
<L>Of Mirth; nay, Pu&s;&s;e, if that were it;</L>
<L>Thus I revenge me, that as thou</L>
<L>Ha&s;t plaid on them, I on thee now;</L>
<L>And as thy touch was nothing fine,</L>
<L>So I've but &s;cratch'd the&s;e notes of mine.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<HEAD>To a Lady vex'd with a Jealous Husband.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>WHen you &s;it mu&s;ing, Lady, all alone</L>
<L>Ca&s;ting up all your cares with private moan,</L>
<L>When your heart bleeds with griefe, you are no more&punc;</L>
<L>Neer unto comfort, than you were before.</L>
<L>You cannot mend your &s;tate with &s;ighes or tears,</L>
<L>Sorrow's no Bal&s;ome for di&s;tru&s;tfull feares.</L>
<L>Have you a Foe you hate, wi&s;h him no wor&s;e</L>
<L>A Plague or Torment, then the Pillowes cur&s;e.</L>
<L><PB N="56" REF="33">
Ob&s;erve your Lord with ne're &s;o &s;trict an eye,</L>
<L>You cannot go to pi&s;s without a &s;py.</L>
<L>If but a Mou&s;e doth &s;tir about his bed,</L>
<L>He &s;tarts, and &s;weares he is di&s;honoured,</L>
<L>And when a jealous dream doth craze his pate,</L>
<L>Straight he re&s;olves he will be &s;eparate.</L>
<L>Tell me, right worthy Cuckolds, if you can,</L>
<L>What good this folly doth reflect on man?</L>
<L>Are women made more loyall? hath it power</L>
<L>To guard the Tree, that none can pluck the Flower?</L>
<L>Is it within the power of jealous heads,</L>
<L>To bani&s;h lu&s;t from Court, or Country beds?</L>
<L>I never knew, that ba&s;e and foul mi&s;tru&s;t</L>
<L>Made any cha&s;t, that had a mind to lu&s;t.</L>
<L>It cannot make her hone&s;t, that by kind,</L>
<L>To loo&s;e and wild affections is inclin'd.</L>
<L>Debar her Lord, &s;he, to &s;upply his room,</L>
<L>Will have a Hor&s;e boy, or a Stable-groom.</L>
<L>Keep her from youth of lower rank and place,</L>
<L>She'l ki&s;s his Scullion, and with Knaves embrace:</L>
<L>Su&s;pect her faith withall, and all mi&s;tru&s;t,</L>
<L>She'l buy a Monkey to &s;upply her lu&s;t:</L>
<L>Lock her from Man and Bea&s;t, and all content,</L>
<L>She'l make thee Cuckold with an in&s;trument:</L>
<L>For women are like angry Ma&s;tives Chain'd,</L>
<L>They bite at all, when they are all re&s;train'd.</L>
<L>We may &s;et locks &amp; guards to watch their fires,</L>
<L>But have no meanes to quench their hot de&s;ires.</L>
<L>Man may as well, by cunning, go about,</L>
<L>To &s;top the Sun in motion, as by doubt,</L>
<L><PB N="57" REF="33">
To keep a nettled woman, if that &s;he</L>
<L>Strongly di&s;po&s;ed be to Venery.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>How many thou&s;and women that were Saints,</L>
<L>Are now made &s;infull by unju&s;t re&s;traints?</L>
<L>How many do commit, for very &s;pight,</L>
<L>That take &s;mall plea&s;ure in that &s;weet delight?</L>
<L>Some are for malice, &s;ome for mirth unju&s;t,</L>
<L>Some ki&s;&s;e for love, and &s;ome do act for lu&s;t.</L>
<L>But if the fates intend to make me ble&s;t,</L>
<L>And <HI>Hymen</HI> bind me to a female brea&s;t,</L>
<L>(As yet, I thank my &s;tarres, I am not ty'd</L>
<L>In &s;ervile bonds to any wanton Bride)</L>
<L>Let <HI>Cinthia</HI> be my Cre&s;t, and let me wear</L>
<L>The Cuckolds badge, if I di&s;tru&s;t, or fear.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>'Tis told me oft, a &s;mooth and gentle hand</L>
<L>Keeps women more in aw of due command,</L>
<L>Than if we &s;et a Ganneril on their Docks,</L>
<L>Ride them with Bits, or on their geer &s;et Locks.</L>
<L>For then, like furious Colts, they'l frisk &amp; fling,</L>
<L>Grow wild and mad, and will do any thing.</L>
<L>But if we &s;lack our reyns, to plea&s;e their will,</L>
<L>Kindne&s;&s;e will keep them from committing ill.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>You ble&s;&s;ed creatures, hold your female rights,</L>
<L>Conquer by day, as you o'recome by nights,</L>
<L>And tell the jealous world thus much from me,</L>
<L>Bondage may make them bad, who&s;e mindes are free.</L>
<L>Had <HI>Collatin</HI> been jealous (&s;ay this more)</L>
<L>Without a rape, <HI>Lucrece</HI> had dy'd a whore.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<PB N="58" REF="34">
<HEAD>Invitation to dalliance.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>BE not thou &s;o fooli&s;h nice,</L>
<L>As to be intreated twice;</L>
<L>What &s;hould Women more incite,</L>
<L>Then their own &s;weet appetite?</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Shall &s;avage things more freedom have</L>
<L>Than nature unto Women gave?</L>
<L>The Swan, the Turtle, and the Sparrow</L>
<L>Bill a while, then take the marrow.</L>
<L>They Bill, they Ki&s;&s;e, what el&s;e they doe</L>
<L>Come Bill, and Ki&s;&s;e, and I'le &s;hew you.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="song">
<HEAD>The Countrey mans Song in the <HI>Spani&s;h Curate.</HI></HEAD>
<LG>
<L>LEt the Bells ring, and the Boyes &s;ing,</L>
<L>The young La&s;&s;es trip and play,</L>
<L>Let the Cups goe round, till round goes the ground,</L>
<L>Our learned Vicar wee'le &s;tay.</L>
<L>Let the Pig turn merrily hey,</L>
<L>And let the fat Goo&s;e &s;wim,</L>
<L>For verily, verily, hey,</L>
<L>Our Vicar this day &s;hall be trim.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<PB N="59" REF="34">
<L>The &s;tew'd Cock &s;hall Crow, Cockadoodle doe,</L>
<L>Aloud Cockadoodle &s;hall Crow;</L>
<L>The Duck and the Drake that &s;wim in the Lake</L>
<L>Of Onions and Clarret below.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Our Wives &s;hall be neat, to bring in our meat,</L>
<L>To thee, our Noble Advi&s;er,</L>
<L>Our paines &s;hall be great, and our pottles &s;hall &s;weat,</L>
<L>And we our &s;elves will be wi&s;er.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Wee'l labour &amp; &s;wink, wee'l ki&s;&s;e and wee'l drink,</L>
<L>And Tythes &s;hall come thicker and thicker;</L>
<L>Wee'l fall to the Plough, and get children enow,</L>
<L>And thou &s;halt be learned, Oh Vicar!</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<HEAD>&V;pon the &s;ight of an old decay'd patch'd Bed, with a Pillow having T. R. as a marke on it.</HEAD>
<LG>
<HEAD>Prologue,</HEAD>
<L>MErvail not <HI>(Reader)</HI> though the Sun &s;hine bright</L>
<L>About you, if I bid you all good night,</L>
<L>I'le tell how't may properly be &s;ed,</L>
<L>Though you are up, yet I am going to bed.</L>
</LG>
<SP>
<SPEAKER>Poeta&s;ter,</SPEAKER>
<L>My &s;lumbring Mu&s;e upon thy drow&s;ie bed,</L>
<L>Re&s;t once againe thine unattired head</L>
<L><PB N="60" REF="35">
Where, for thy great <HI>Mecenas</HI> &s;o commands,</L>
<L>Thy be&s;t a&s;&s;ayes with &s;aporiferous bands.</L>
<L>While darkne&s;&s;e did thine outward &s;en&s;es blind,</L>
<L>Tell me what fancies did u&s;urp thy minde.</L>
</SP>
<SP>
<SPEAKER>Mu&s;e.</SPEAKER>
<L>What think you Sir, while &s;leep enthral'd my head,</L>
<L>What &s;ubject could I have, except my bed?</L>
</SP>
<SP>
<SPEAKER>Poeta&s;ter.</SPEAKER>
<L>A bed no &s;ubject to be written on,</L>
<L>But lain, yea by the Mu&s;es tread upon.</L>
</SP>
<SP>
<SPEAKER>Mu&s;e.</SPEAKER>
<L>The pillow from the bed I think's not farre,</L>
<L>And yet on that were written T. and R.</L>
<L>But to be lien on, right I like it well,</L>
<L>For why in lying, Poets bear the Bell,</L>
<L>And to be trod upon, tis not unmeet,</L>
<L>The Mu&s;es &s;cand their &s;ubjects with their feet.</L>
</SP>
<SP>
<SPEAKER>Poeta&s;ter.</SPEAKER>
<L>The R. O mu&s;e thou there &s;aw'&s;t (to be brief)</L>
<L>Was nothing but a Rogue, the T. a Thief:</L>
<L>In the next ver&s;e, but two, I blu&s;h to tell,</L>
<L>Thou fir&s;t brought&s;t forth a <HI>Lie,</HI> &amp; then a <HI>Bell.</HI></L>
<L>Take heed of <HI>Libels</HI> Mu&s;e, thy Poet feares,</L>
<L>If thy feet &s;tumble, he may lo&s;e his eares.</L>
<L>To &s;ever Theives and Poets I am loath,</L>
<L>Becau&s;e I know <HI>Mercurius</HI> was both.</L>
</SP>
<SP>
<PB N="61" REF="35">
<SPEAKER>Mu&s;e.</SPEAKER>
<L>Within thy ver&s;es as Birds of a feather,</L>
<L>Liars, rogues, thieves, and Mu&s;es flock together,</L>
<L>By whom I'm &s;oftly to my &s;ubject led,</L>
<L>For flocks and feathers do fill up the bed.</L>
<L><HI>Bacchus</HI> his merry boules may humour breed,</L>
<L>But divine raptures from the bed proceed.</L>
<L>Let the Pot Poets in their fury try,</L>
<L>With dipping their Malignant pens to dry</L>
<L>The Mu&s;es fountain, my inventions &s;treams</L>
<L>Can nevr faile, while beds procure me dreams.</L>
<L>If we one Science ju&s;tly may admire,</L>
<L>What &s;hall we here where all the Seven con&s;pire?</L>
<L>The letters on the pillow witne&s;&s;e may</L>
<L>That on this bed &s;ome Grammer lately lay;</L>
<L>In Logick al&s;o it mu&s;t needs be able,</L>
<L>For 'twas a Cord would make a pretty Cable:</L>
<L>That beds have Rhetorick we need not fear,</L>
<L>While to his pillow each man lends his eare:</L>
<L>Who number all the feathers in it can,</L>
<L>Mu&s;t be a good Arithmetitian.</L>
<L>The joynts cry creek when on them any lie,</L>
<L>As if the &s;tocks hung by Geometry.</L>
<L>Its mu&s;ick &s;ure is plea&s;ant which can keep</L>
<L>In &s;pight of &s;norting eyes and eares a&s;leep.</L>
<L>The bed I take for deep A&s;tronomy,</L>
<L>Which alwaies &s;tudies to eclip&s;e the eye.</L>
<L>If you &s;eek Planets, this is <HI>Vulcans</HI> gin,</L>
<L>That <HI>Mars</HI> and <HI>Venus</HI> were &s;o fetter'd in.</L>
<L><PB N="62" REF="36">
A&s;trologie in this doth al&s;o dwell,</L>
<L>For men by Dreames may future things foretell:</L>
<L>To read &s;trong lines, if any minde be bent,</L>
<L>Herein the bed can al&s;o give content.</L>
<L>Not &s;age <HI>Apollo,</HI> nor the &s;acred Nine</L>
<L>Can then this Bed-cord &s;hew a &s;tronger line.</L>
<L>Methinkes l'me very &s;leepy &s;till, and loath</L>
<L>To ri&s;e, but that I've on me ne're a cloath.</L>
<L>'Twas T. and R. as &s;ure's I live, 'twas they</L>
<L>That &s;tole the Coverlet and Sheets away.</L>
<L>Out! a Roap choak you both, y'are arrant knaves,</L>
<L>I'de knock you &s;oundly, had I but Bed-&s;taves.</L>
</SP>
<LG>
<HEAD>Epilogue.</HEAD>
<L>IF ought ob&s;cure you in my Ver&s;es, marke,</L>
<L>Poets u&s;e not their Beds but in the darke.</L>
<L>If fal&s;e or fooli&s;h any thing you deem,</L>
<L>Sith't came from Bed, account it for a Dream.</L>
<L>If in my Ver&s;es boldly any catches,</L>
<L>The Bed, my &s;ubject, was as full of patches:</L>
<L>The blurs and blots I make, let none di&s;daine,</L>
<L>The Bed in one place had an ugly &s;taine.</L>
<L>If my unpolli&s;h't lines being dull and dry,</L>
<L>Doe make you heavy, I will tell you why.</L>
<L>Some &s;udjects make men laugh, &s;ome make them weep</L>
<L>But the Bed-po&s;t is to bring all a&s;leep.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<PB N="63" REF="36">
<HEAD>A Letter to Sir <HI>John Mennis,</HI> when the Par|liament denied the King Money to pay the Ar|my, unle&s;&s;e a Prie&s;t, whom the King had re|prieved, might be executed. Sir <HI>John</HI> at that time wanting the Money for provi&s;ions for his troop, de&s;ired me by his Letter to goe to the Prie&s;t, and to per&s;wade him to dye for the good of the Ar|my; &s;aying,
<Q><L>What is't for him to hang an houre,</L>
<L>To give an Army &s;trength and power?</L></Q></HEAD>
<HEAD>The Reply.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>BY my la&s;t Letter <HI>Iohn</HI> thou &s;ee'&s;t</L>
<L>What I have done to &s;often Prie&s;t;</L>
<L>Yet could not with all I could &s;ay,</L>
<L>Per&s;wade him hang to get thee pay.</L>
<L>Thou Swad, quoth he, I plainly &s;ee,</L>
<L>The Army wants no food by thee,</L>
<L>Fa&s;t oftner, friend, or if you'l eate</L>
<L>U&s;e Oaten &s;traw, or &s;traw of Wheat;</L>
<L>They'l &s;erve to moderate thy jelly,</L>
<L>And (which it needs) take up thy belly.</L>
<L>As one that in a Taverne breaks</L>
<L>A Gla&s;&s;e, &s;teales by the Barre, and &s;neaks:</L>
<L>At this rebuke, with no le&s;&s;e ha&s;te, I</L>
<L>Trudg'd from the Prie&s;t, and Pri&s;on na&s;ty:</L>
<L>The truth is, he gave little credit</L>
<L>To'th' Armies wants, becau&s;e I &s;aid it.</L>
<L><PB N="64" REF="37">
And, if you'l pre&s;&s;e it further, <HI>Iohn,</HI></L>
<L>'Tis fit you &s;end a leaner man.</L>
<L>For thou with ea&s;e can'&s;t friends expo&s;e</L>
<L>For thy behoof to fortunes blows.</L>
<L>Suppo&s;e we being found together</L>
<L>Had pa&s;s'd for Birds of the &s;ame feather?</L>
<L>I had perchance been &s;hrewdly &s;hent,</L>
<L>And maul'd too, by the Parliament.</L>
<L>Have you beheld th'unlucky Ape</L>
<L>For roa&s;ted Che&s;nuts mump and gape,</L>
<L>And off'ring at them with his pawes,</L>
<L>But loath he is to &s;corch his clawes;</L>
<L>When viewing on the Hearth a&s;leep</L>
<L>A Puppy, gives him cau&s;e to weep:</L>
<L>To &s;pare his owne, he takes his help,</L>
<L>And rakes out Nuts with foot of whelp.</L>
<L>Which done, (as if 'twere all but play)</L>
<L>Your Name-&s;ake looks another way.</L>
<L>The Cur awakes, and findes his thumbs</L>
<L>In paine, but knows not whence it comes,</L>
<L>He takes it fir&s;t to be &s;ome Cramp,</L>
<L>And now he &s;preads, now licks his vamp;</L>
<L>Both are in vaine, no ea&s;e appeares,</L>
<L>What &s;hould he doe? he &s;hakes his eares,</L>
<L>And hobling on three legs he goes,</L>
<L>Whining away with aking toes.</L>
<L>Not in much better ca&s;e perhaps,</L>
<L>I might have been to &s;erve thy chaps,</L>
<L>And have be&s;hrew'd my fingers end,</L>
<L>For groping &s;o in cau&s;e of friend;</L>
<L><PB N="65" REF="37">
While thou would&s;t munch like hor&s;e in Manger,</L>
<L>And reach at Nuts with others danger:</L>
<L>Yet have I ventur'd farre to &s;erve</L>
<L>My friend that &s;ayes he's like to &s;terve.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<HEAD>The Fart cen&s;ured in the Parliament Hou&s;e.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>PUffing down coms grave antient Sir <HI>Io. Crook,</HI></L>
<L>And reads his me&s;&s;age promptly without book.</L>
<L>Very well, quoth Sir <HI>William Morris,</HI> &s;o;</L>
<L>But <HI>Harry Ludlows</HI> foy&s;ting Ar&s;e cry'd no.</L>
<L>Then &s;tarts up one fuller of devotion</L>
<L>Then eloquence, and &s;ayes, <HI>An ill motion.</HI></L>
<L>Nay, by my Faith, quoth Sir <HI>Henry Ienkin,</HI></L>
<L>The motion were good, wer't not for &s;tinking.</L>
<L>Quoth Sir <HI>Henry Pool,</HI> 'Tis an audacious trick,</L>
<L>To Fart in the Face of the body Politick.</L>
<L>Now without doubt, quoth Sir <HI>Edward Grevil,</HI></L>
<L>I mu&s;t confe&s;&s;e, it was very uncivill.</L>
<L>Thank God, quoth Sir <HI>Edward Hungerford,</HI></L>
<L>That this Fart prov'd not a Turd.</L>
<L>Indeed, quoth Sir <HI>Iohn Trevor,</HI> it gave a foule knock,</L>
<L>As it launch'd forth from his &s;tinking Dock.</L>
<L>I, quoth another it once &s;o chanced,</L>
<L>That a great Man Farted, as he daunced.</L>
<L>Quoth Sir <HI>Richard Haughton,</HI> no Ju&s;tice of Quorum,</L>
<L>But would take it in &s;nuffe, t'have a fart let be|fore'um.</L>
<L><PB N="66" REF="38">
Such a fart as this ne're before was &s;een,</L>
<L>Quoth the mo&s;t learned Councel of the Queen.</L>
<L>Quoth Mr. <HI>Daniel,</HI> this young man's too bold,</L>
<L>This priviledge belongs to us that are old.</L>
<L>Then wo the time, quoth Sir <HI>Laurence Hyde,</HI></L>
<L>That the&s;e our priviledges are deny'd.</L>
<L>Quoth Mr. Recorder a word for the City,</L>
<L>To cut off the Aldermans right, were great pity.</L>
<L>Well, quoth <HI>Kit Brook,</HI> wee'l give you a rea&s;on,</L>
<L>Though he had right by de&s;cent, he had not li|very and &s;ei&s;in.</L>
<L>Yet, quoth M. <HI>Peak,</HI> I have a pre&s;ident in &s;tore,</L>
<L>His father farted la&s;t Se&s;&s;ions before.</L>
<L>Then &s;aid Mr. <HI>Noy,</HI> this may very well be done,</L>
<L>A fart may be entail'd from the father to the &s;on.</L>
<L>Saith Mr. <HI>Moore,</HI> let us this motion repeale,</L>
<L>What's good for the private, is ill for the Com|mon weal.</L>
<L>A goodyear on this Fart, quoth gentle Sir <HI>Harry.</HI></L>
<L>He hath caus'd &s;uch an Earth-quake, that my Coal-pits mi&s;carry.</L>
<L>It is hard to recall a Fart when tis out,</L>
<L>Quoth Sir <HI>William Lower</HI> with a loud &s;hout.</L>
<L>Yes, quoth Sir <HI>Laurence Hide,</HI> that we may come by it,</L>
<L>Wee'l make a <HI>provi&s;o,</HI> time it and tye it.</L>
<L>Qd. Sir <HI>Harry</HI> the hardy, look well to each clau&s;e,</L>
<L>A&s;well for <HI>Englands</HI> Liberty as Lawes.</L>
<L>Now then the knightly Doctor prote&s;ts,</L>
<L>This Fart &s;hall be brought into th'Court of Re|que&s;ts.</L>
<L><PB N="67" REF="38">
Nay rather, &s;ayes Sir <HI>Edwin,</HI> I'le make a di|gre&s;&s;ion,</L>
<L>And fart him a project, &s;hall la&s;t him a Se&s;&s;ion.</L>
<L>Then Sir <HI>Edward Hoby</HI> alleadg'd with the &s;pigot,</L>
<L>If you fart at the Union, remember <HI>Kit Pigot.</HI></L>
<L>Swooks quoth Sir <HI>Iohn Lee,</HI> is your Ar&s;e in dotage?</L>
<L>Could you not have kept this breath to cool your pottage?</L>
<L>Grave Senat quoth Mr. <HI>Duncomb,</HI> upon my &s;al|vation</L>
<L>This Fart had need of great Reformation.</L>
<L>Quoth the Countrey Courtier upon my Con|&s;cience,</L>
<L>It might have been reformed with Frankin&s;ence.</L>
<L>We mu&s;t have this Fart by Parliament enacted,</L>
<L>Said another, before this bu&s;ine&s;&s;e be tran&s;acted.</L>
<L>And &s;o we &s;hall have (oh do not abhor it!)</L>
<L>A Fart from <HI>Scotland</HI> reciprocall for it.</L>
<L>A very good je&s;t it is by this light.</L>
<L>Quoth &s;pruce Mr. <HI>Iames</HI> of the <HI>I&s;le</HI> of <HI>Wight.</HI></L>
<L>Quoth Sir <HI>Robert Iohn&s;on,</HI> if you'l not laugh</L>
<L>I'le mea&s;ure this Fart with my <HI>Iacobs</HI> &s;taffe.</L>
<L>Now by my troth, quoth &s;age Mr. <HI>Bennet,</HI></L>
<L>We mu&s;t have a &s;elected Committee to pen it.</L>
<L><HI>Philip Gawdy</HI> &s;troak'd the old &s;tubble of his face,</L>
<L>Said, the Fart was well penn'd, &s;o &s;at downe in his place.</L>
<L>Then mode&s;t Sir <HI>Iohn Hollis</HI> &s;aid, on his word,</L>
<L>It was but a Shoo that creak'd on a board.</L>
<L><PB N="68" REF="39">
Not &s;o, quoth Sir <HI>Iohn Ackland,</HI> that cannot be,</L>
<L>The place underneath is matted you &s;ee.</L>
<L>Before God, &s;aid Mr. <HI>Brooke,</HI> to tell you no lye,</L>
<L>This Fart, by our Law, is of the <HI>Po&s;t-nati.</HI></L>
<L>Fye, quoth M. <HI>Fotherby,</HI> I like not this Emba&s;&s;age,</L>
<L>A Fart Interlocutory in the mid&s;t of a Me&s;&s;age.</L>
<L>In all your Eloquence then, quoth Mr. <HI>Martin,</HI></L>
<L>You cannot finde out this figure of Farting.</L>
<L>Nay, quoth Dr. <HI>Crompton,</HI> can any man draw</L>
<L>This Fart within compa&s;&s;e of the Civill Law?</L>
<L>Then Sir <HI>William Pady,</HI> I dare a&s;&s;ure'm,</L>
<L>Though't be <HI>Contra mode&s;tiam,</HI> 'tis not <HI>Contra naturam.</HI></L>
<L>Up &s;tarts <HI>Ned Weymark</HI> the Pa&s;quil of <HI>Powls,</HI></L>
<L>And &s;aid, this Fart would have fitted the Ma&s;ter of the Rolls.</L>
<L>Said <HI>Oxenbridge,</HI> there is great &s;u&s;pition,</L>
<L>That this Fart &s;avours of Popi&s;h Super&s;tition.</L>
<L>Nay, &s;aid Mr. <HI>Good,</HI> and al&s;o &s;ome other,</L>
<L>This Fart came from &s;om reformed Brother.</L>
<L>Then up &s;tart Sir <HI>Iohn Yong,</HI> and &s;wore by Gods nailes,</L>
<L>Was nere &s;uch a Fart let in the Borders of Wales.</L>
<L>Sir <HI>Walter Cope</HI> &s;aid, this Fart as 'twas let,</L>
<L>Might well have broke ope his privy Cabinet.</L>
<L>Sir <HI>Ierome</HI> in Folio, &s;wore by the Ma&s;&s;e,</L>
<L>This Fart was enough to have broke all the Gla&s;&s;e.</L>
<L><PB N="69" REF="39">
And Sir <HI>Ierome</HI> the le&s;&s;e &s;aid, &s;uch an abu&s;e,</L>
<L>Was never committed in <HI>Poland</HI> or <HI>Pruce.</HI></L>
<L>In compa&s;&s;e of a thou&s;and miles about,</L>
<L>Sir <HI>Roger Owen</HI> &s;aid, &s;uch a Fart came not out.</L>
<L>Quoth Sir <HI>Iohn Parker,</HI> I &s;weare by my Rapier,</L>
<L>This Bombard was &s;tuff<GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="faint" RESP="apex" EXTENT="1 letter">d with very foul Paper.</L>
<L>Now quoth Mr. <HI>Lewknor,</HI> we have found &s;uch a thing</L>
<L>As no Tale-bearer dares carry to the King.</L>
<L>Quoth Sir <HI>Lewis</HI> his Brother, if it come of Em|ba&s;&s;age,</L>
<L>The Ma&s;ter of the Ceremonies mu&s;t give it pa&s;&s;age.</L>
<L>I, quoth Sir <HI>Robert Drury,</HI> that were your part,</L>
<L>If &s;o it had been a forrein Fart.</L>
<L>Nay, &s;aid Sir <HI>Richard Love lace,</HI> to end the dif|ference,</L>
<L>It were fit with the Lords to have a conference.</L>
<L>Hark, quoth Sir <HI>Iohn Town&s;end,</HI> this Fart had the might,</L>
<L>To deny his owne Ma&s;ter to be dubbed Knight,</L>
<L>For had it ambition, or <HI>orationis pars,</HI></L>
<L>Your Son could have told him, <HI>quid e&s;t Ars.</HI></L>
<L>Quoth Sir <HI>Thomas Lake,</HI> if this hou&s;e be not able</L>
<L>To cen&s;ure this Fart, I'le have it to the Councel Table.</L>
<L>It were no great grievance, qd, M. <HI>Hare,</HI></L>
<L>If the Surveyour herein had his &s;hare.</L>
<L>Be patient Gentlemen, quoth Sir <HI>Francis Bacon,</HI></L>
<L>There's none of us all but may be thus mi&s;taken.</L>
<L><PB N="70" REF="40">
Silence, quoth <HI>Bond,</HI> though words be but wind,</L>
<L>Yet I doe mi&s;like the&s;e Motions behinde.</L>
<L>Then, quoth Mr. <HI>Price,</HI> it &s;tinks the more you &s;tir it,</L>
<L><HI>Naturam expellas furca, recurrit.</HI></L>
<L>Then gan &s;age <HI>Moun&s;on</HI> &s;ilence to break,</L>
<L>And &s;aid, this Fart would make an Image &s;peak.</L>
<L>Up ri&s;es the <HI>Speaker,</HI> that noble <HI>Ephe&s;tion,</HI></L>
<L>And &s;ayes, Gentlemen, I'le put you a que&s;tion:</L>
<L>The que&s;tion propounded the eares did lo&s;e,</L>
<L>For the Major part went there with the no&s;e.</L>
<L>Sir <HI>Robert Cotton,</HI> well read in old &s;tories,</L>
<L>(Having conferred his notes with Mr. <HI>Pories,</HI></L>
<L>I can well witne&s;&s;e that the&s;e are no fables)</L>
<L>Said, 'twas hard to put the Fart in his Tables.</L>
<L>If 'twould bear an Action, &s;aith Sir <HI>Tho: Holcro&s;t,</HI></L>
<L>I'ld make of this Fart a Bolt or a &s;haft.</L>
<L>Quoth Sir <HI>Roger A&s;hton,</HI> 'twould mend well the matter,</L>
<L>If 'twere &s;hay'd and well wa&s;h'd in ro&s;e water:</L>
<L>Why, quoth Sir <HI>Roger Acton,</HI> how &s;hould I tell it,</L>
<L>A Fart by hear&s;ay, &amp; neither hear it nor &s;mell it?</L>
<L>Quoth Sir <HI>Thomas Knevet,</HI> I fear here doth lurk</L>
<L>In this Hallow Vault, &s;ome more powder work.</L>
<L>Then preci&s;ely ro&s;e Sir <HI>Anthony Cope,</HI></L>
<L>And pray'd to God, 'twere no <HI>Bull</HI> from the Pope.</L>
<L>Quoth Sir <HI>Tho: Chaloner,</HI> I'le demon&s;trat this fart</L>
<L>To b'a voice of the Belly, and not of the heart.</L>
<L>Then by my Faith &s;aith Sir <HI>Edwin Sandyes,</HI></L>
<L>He playes not by th'line, this Gentleman bandies.</L>
<L>Then &s;aid Sir <HI>George More,</HI> in his wonted order,</L>
<L>I mean but to &s;peak again&s;t the hou&s;es di&s;order.</L>
<L><PB N="71" REF="40">
The Fart which we favour far more then is fit,</L>
<L>I wi&s;h to the Sergeant you would commit.</L>
<L>The Sergeant refus'd it, humbly on's knees,</L>
<L>For Farts break Pri&s;on, and never pay Fees;</L>
<L>Wherefore this motion without rea&s;on &s;tands</L>
<L>To charg me with what I can't hold in my hands.</L>
<L>Then quoth the Clerk, I now plainly &s;ee</L>
<L>That a private Act is &s;ome gaine for me.</L>
<L>All which was admitted by Sir <HI>Thomas Freak,</HI></L>
<L>This Gentleman &s;aith, his Shoo did but creak.</L>
<L>Then &s;aid Sir <HI>Richard Gargrave</HI> by and by,</L>
<L>This Gentleman &s;peaketh as well as I.</L>
<L>But all at la&s;t &s;aid, it was mo&s;t fit,</L>
<L>The Fart as a Traitor, to the Tower to commit:</L>
<L>Where as they &s;ay, it remaines to this houre,</L>
<L>Yet not clo&s;e pri&s;oner, but at large in the Tower.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<HEAD>Partus Chaucheri Po&s;thumus <HI>Gulielmi Nel&s;on.</HI></HEAD>
<LG>
<L>LI&s;ten you Lordlings to a noble game,</L>
<L>Which I &s;hall tell you, by thilk Lord S. <HI>Iame,</HI></L>
<L>Of a lewd Clerk, and of his haviour bold,</L>
<L>He was, I trow, &s;ome three&s;core winters old.</L>
<L>Of <HI>Cambridge</HI> was this Clerk, not <HI>Oxenford,</HI></L>
<L>Well known at <HI>Stilton, Stewkey,</HI> and <HI>Stamford.</HI></L>
<L>He haunted fenny <HI>Staunton,</HI> and Saint <HI>Ives,</HI></L>
<L>And fair could gloze among the Country Wives.</L>
<L><PB N="72" REF="41">
A lu&s;ty Runnyon ware he in his ho&s;e,</L>
<L>Lowd could he &s;peak, and crackle in the No&s;e.</L>
<L>For Schollar&s;hip him car'd him light or nought,</L>
<L>To &s;erve his turn, he Engli&s;h Po&s;tills bought.</L>
<L>He us'd no colour, nor no Rhetorick,</L>
<L>But yet he couth &s;ome termes of art Logick,</L>
<L>He was full rude and hot in di&s;putation,</L>
<L>And wondrous frequent in his predication.</L>
<L>Full gravely couth he &s;pit, fore he gan &s;peak,</L>
<L>And in his mouth &s;ome Sugar-Candy break,</L>
<L>But yet his preaching was to &s;mall effect,</L>
<L>Though lowd he roar'd, inth' Northern Dialect.</L>
<L>He ware a Ca&s;&s;ock deep, but of &s;mall co&s;t,</L>
<L>His &s;tate was &s;pent in Nutmeg, Ale and Toa&s;t.</L>
<L>A gauld back'd &s;pittle Jade for travelling</L>
<L>He kept in &s;ummer, but the wintering</L>
<L>Too co&s;tly was, rode he early or later,</L>
<L>Nought was his provender but gra&s;s and water,</L>
<L>Well liquor'd were his Boots, &amp; wondrous wide,</L>
<L>Ne Sword, ne Rapyer ware he by his &s;ide,</L>
<L>A long va&s;t Cloak-bag was his Caryage</L>
<L>Ther nis the like from <HI>Hull</HI> unto <HI>Carthage.</HI></L>
<L>But, &s;ooth to &s;ay, he was for ay formall,</L>
<L>And ware a thred bare Cloak Canonicall.</L>
<L>He had a Dean&s;hip and a Par&s;onage,</L>
<L>Yet was in debt and danger all his age,</L>
<L>His greater &s;umme he payes by borrowing,</L>
<L>And le&s;&s;er &s;cores, by often puni&s;hing.</L>
<L>If that a Problem, or a common place</L>
<L>Comes to his &s;hare, he is in jolly ca&s;e;</L>
<L><PB N="73" REF="41">
Then to a Nape of Ling he would invite</L>
<L>Some Ra&s;call Tap&s;ter, hardly worth a Mite.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Well was he known in every Village Town,</L>
<L>The good Wives clep'd him Go&s;&s;ip up &amp; down;</L>
<L>Oft was he Maudlin drunk, then would he weep,</L>
<L>Not for his &s;innes, of them he took &s;mall keep:</L>
<L>It was the humour fell down from his eyn,</L>
<L>Di&s;till'd from Ale, he drank but little wine;</L>
<L>And being asked why tho&s;e teares did fall,</L>
<L>Soothly he preached at a Funerall.</L>
<L>And when with drinking he was &s;ome deal mel|low,</L>
<L>His Motto was, <HI>Faith Lad, I's halfe good fellow.</HI></L>
<L>Thus preach'd he often on an Ale-hou&s;e Bench,</L>
<L>And, when the Spirit mov'd, cough'd for his Wench,</L>
<L>And Ba&s;tards got, which, if God &s;end them grace,</L>
<L>They may &s;ucceed him in his Seniors place.</L>
<L>He was an idle Senior for the nonce,</L>
<L>Foul may befall his body, and his bones.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<HEAD>&V;pon the &s;ame.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>TWice twenty Sermons, &amp; twice five, I ween,</L>
<L>(And yet not one of them in print is &s;een)</L>
<L>He preach'd, God and St. <HI>Mary</HI>'s witne&s;&s;eth,</L>
<L>Where loud he roar'd, yet had but little pith.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<PB N="74" REF="42">
<HEAD>Imitatio Chauceri altera, In eundem.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>LEave, <HI>Ieffrey Chaucer,</HI> to de&s;criben a Man</L>
<L>In thine old phra&s;on, &s;o well as I can.</L>
<L><GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="faint" RESP="apex" EXTENT="1 letter">ken no glozing, for my wit is rude,</L>
<L>Nath'le&s;&s;e I'le limb out his &s;imilitude.</L>
<L>Fierce was his look, 'twas danger him to meet,</L>
<L>He pa&s;&s;ed like a Tempe&s;t through the &s;treet.</L>
<L>Narrow his eyn, his No&s;e was Chami&s;ed,</L>
<L>Sawfleum his Face, forked his Beard and head.</L>
<L>Pardie I wot not what men doe him call,</L>
<L><HI>Dan Thomas. ne Dan Richard,</HI> n'of what Hall</L>
<L>He is, <GAP DESC="illegible" REASON="faint" RESP="apex" EXTENT="1 word"> Colledge; but, by th'holy Mattin,</L>
<L>He was a frequent gue&s;t at <HI>Iohn Port Lattin;</HI></L>
<L>And eke at all other dayes fe&s;tivall,</L>
<L>He had a liquorous tooth over all;</L>
<L>Ne was there any Wight in all this Town,</L>
<L>That ta&s;ted better a Pa&s;ty of Veni&s;oun,</L>
<L>Ybaked with Gravy Gods plenty,</L>
<L>It reli&s;hed better then <HI>Au&s;tin</HI>'s works or <HI>Gregory,</HI></L>
<L>Yet politick he was, and worldly wi&s;e,</L>
<L>And purchac'd hath, a double Benefice.</L>
<L>Small was his Wage, and little was his hire,</L>
<L>He let his &s;heep accumber in the mire;</L>
<L>And &s;olac'd at St. <HI>Iohns,</HI> or at St. <HI>Pauls,</HI></L>
<L>That was a Sanctuary for his Soules.</L>
<L><PB N="75" REF="42">
Sir <HI>Iohn</HI> of them, mu&s;t alwaies taken keep,</L>
<L>A &s;hitten Sheepherd cannot make clean &s;heep.</L>
<L>Ne God <HI>Mercurius,</HI> ne <HI>Melpomene,</HI></L>
<L>E're look'd upon him at's Nativity:</L>
<L>Or if they look'd, they looked all a&s;caunce,</L>
<L>So was he made a Prie&s;t by foule mi&s;chance.</L>
<L>Pardie he was of the wor&s;t clay y'maked,</L>
<L>That e're Dame Nature in her Furnace baked.</L>
<L>For in his youth he was a Serving-man,</L>
<L>And bu&s;ily on his Ma&s;ters errand ran;</L>
<L>And fairely fore a Cloak-bag couth he ride,</L>
<L>Algates a ru&s;ty whinyard by his &s;ide;</L>
<L>And he that whilom could not change a groat,</L>
<L>Hath changed, for a Ca&s;&s;ock, his blew Coat.</L>
<L>One cannot &s;ee the Body, nor the Bulke,</L>
<L>That whilom did attend on aged Fulk;</L>
<L>A larger Gown hath all y'covered,</L>
<L>And a &s;quare Cap doth pent-hou&s;e his &s;wynes head.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Yet notes he got, when his Ma&s;ter di&s;puted,</L>
<L>And when the learned Papi&s;ts he confuted.</L>
<L>The Borel men &s;ayn, he preach well ynough,</L>
<L>But others known, that he &s;toln all his &s;tuffe.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Lu&s;tfull he was, at Forty needs mu&s;t wed,</L>
<L>Old <HI>Ianuary</HI> will have <HI>May</HI> in Bed,</L>
<L>And live in glee, for, as wi&s;e men have &s;ayn,</L>
<L>Old Fi&s;h, and young Fle&s;h, would I have fayn,</L>
<L>And thus he &s;winketh; but, to end my &s;tory,</L>
<L>Men &s;ayn, he needs no other Purgatory.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<PB N="76" REF="43">
<HEAD>The Nightingale.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>MY Limbs were weary, and my head oppre&s;t</L>
<L>With drow&s;ine&s;s, and yet I could not re&s;t.</L>
<L>My Bed was &s;uch, as Down nor Feather can Swan;</L>
<L>Make one more &s;oft, though <HI>Iove</HI> againe turn</L>
<L>No fear-di&s;tracted thoughts, my &s;lumbers broke,</L>
<L>I heard no Screech Owl &s;hreek, nor Raven croak;</L>
<L>Sleep's foe, the Flea, that proud in&s;ulting Elfe,</L>
<L>Is now at truce, and is a&s;leep it &s;elfe.</L>
<L>But 'twas nights darling, and the worlds chief Jewell,</L>
<L>The Nightingale, that was &s;o &s;weetly cruell.</L>
<L>It woo'd my eares to rob my eyes of &s;leep,</L>
<L>That whil&s;t &s;he &s;ung of <HI>Tereus,</HI> they might weep;</L>
<L>And yet rejoyce the Tyrant did her wrong,</L>
<L>Her cau&s;e of woe, was burthen of her &s;ong.</L>
<L>Which while I li&s;tened to, and &s;trove to heare,</L>
<L>'Twas &s;uch, I could have wi&s;h'd my &s;elfe all eare.</L>
<L>'Tis fal&s;e that Poets feign of <HI>Orpheus,</HI> he</L>
<L>Could neither move a bea&s;t, a &s;tone, or tree</L>
<L>To follow him, but where&s;oe're &s;he flyes,</L>
<L>The Grovy Satyr, and the Faery hyes</L>
<L>Afore her Perch, to dance their Roundelayes,</L>
<L>For &s;he &s;ings <HI>Di&s;tichs</HI> to them, while <HI>Pan</HI> playes.</L>
<L><PB N="77" REF="43">
Yet &s;he &s;ung better now, as if in me</L>
<L>She meant with &s;leep to try the Ma&s;tery.</L>
<L>But while &s;he chaunted thus, the Cock for &s;pight,</L>
<L>Dayes hoarcer Herald, chid away the night,</L>
<L>Thus rob'd of &s;leep, my eye-lids nightly gue&s;t,</L>
<L>Methought I lay content, though not at re&s;t.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="epitaph">
<HEAD>Epitaph on Mi&s;tri&s;&s;e <HI>Mary Prideaux.</HI></HEAD>
<LG>
<L>HAppy Grave thou do&s;t en&s;hrine</L>
<L>That which makes thee a rich Myne,</L>
<L>Yet remember, 'tis but loane,</L>
<L>And we look for back our owne.</L>
<L>The very &s;ame, marke me, the &s;ame,</L>
<L>Thou &s;halt not cheat us with a Lame</L>
<L>Deformed Carca&s;&s;e, this was faire,</L>
<L>Fre&s;h as morning, &s;oft as Ayre;</L>
<L>Purer then other fle&s;h as farre</L>
<L>As other Soules their bodies are:</L>
<L>And that thou mai&s;t the better &s;ee</L>
<L>To finde her out, two &s;tarres there be</L>
<L>Eclip&s;ed now; uncloud but tho&s;e,</L>
<L>And they will point thee to the Ro&s;e</L>
<L>That dy'd each Cheek, now pale and wan,</L>
<L>But will be, when &s;he wakes againe</L>
<L>Fre&s;her then ever; and how ere</L>
<L>Her long &s;leep may alter her,</L>
<L><PB N="78" REF="44">
Her Soul will know her Body &s;treight,</L>
<L>'Twas made &s;o fit for't, no deceipt</L>
<L>Can &s;uit another to it, none</L>
<L>Cloath it &s;o neatly as its owne.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<HEAD>&V;pon drinking in the Crown of a Hat.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>WEll fare tho&s;e three, that when there was a Dearth</L>
<L>Of Cups to drink in, yet could finde out mirth,</L>
<L>And &s;pight of Fortune, make their want their &s;tore,</L>
<L>And nought to drinke in, cau&s;ed drinking more.</L>
<L>No brittle gla&s;&s;e we u&s;ed, nor did we thinke</L>
<L>'Twould help the ta&s;te, t'have windows to our drinke.</L>
<L>We &s;corn'd ba&s;e Clay, w^t^h tortur'd in the wheel,</L>
<L>Martyr'd at la&s;t, the force of fire doth feel.</L>
<L>Both the&s;e doe faile, we drinke not morally,</L>
<L>In &s;uch like Emblems of mortality.</L>
<L>The Cups that Brewers u&s;e, and long u&s;e may,</L>
<L>But us'd by women the contrary way,</L>
<L>Polluted not our Pallats; nor the horn,</L>
<L>Due to the forehead, by our lips was worne.</L>
<L>We did abhor the&s;e hell-bred, bloud bought Mettals,</L>
<L>Silver and gold; nor &s;hould that which makes Kettles</L>
<L><PB N="79" REF="44">
Serve us for cups; nor that which is the Newter</L>
<L>Betwixt the&s;e five, and is yeleped Pewter;</L>
<L>But twas as rare a thing, as often tryed,</L>
<L>As be&s;t of the&s;e, though &s;even times purifyed</L>
<L>A &s;even times &s;coured Felt, but turned never,</L>
<L>And pity tis, I cannot call it Bever.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>The circumlated Crown, &s;omewhat depre&s;t,</L>
<L>And by degrees, toward the one &s;ide thru&s;t,</L>
<L>That to our lips it might the better &s;toop,</L>
<L>Varyed a little th'figure of a Hoop;</L>
<L>From a ju&s;t Circle drawing out an Angle,</L>
<L>And that we might not for our mea&s;ure wrangle,</L>
<L>The Butlers &s;elf, who&s;e Hat it was and Band,</L>
<L>Fill'd each his mea&s;ure with an even hand.</L>
<L>Thus did we round it, and did never &s;hrink,</L>
<L>Till we that wanted Cups, now wanted drink.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="epitaph">
<HEAD>An Epitaph upon Doctor <HI>Prideaux</HI>'s Son.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>HEre lyes his Parents hopes and fears,</L>
<L>Once all their joyes, now all their tears,</L>
<L>He's now pa&s;t &s;ence, pa&s;t fear of paine,</L>
<L>'Twere &s;in to wi&s;h him here againe.</L>
<L>Had it liv'd to have been a Man,</L>
<L>This Inch had grown but to a &s;pan;</L>
<L>And now he takes up the le&s;&s;e room,</L>
<L>Rock'd from his Cradle to his Tomb.</L>
<L><PB N="80" REF="45">
'Tis better dye a child, at four,</L>
<L>Then live and dye &s;o at four&s;core.</L>
<L>View but the way by which we come,</L>
<L>Thou'lt &s;ay, he's be&s;t, that's fir&s;t at home.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<HEAD>On his Mi&s;tri&s;&s;e having the Green-&s;ickne&s;&s;e.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>WHite Innocence, that now lyes &s;pread</L>
<L>For&s;aken on thy widdow'd Bed,</L>
<L>Cold and alone; for fear, love, hate,</L>
<L>Or &s;hame, recall thy crim&s;on mate</L>
<L>From his dark Mazes, to re&s;ide</L>
<L>With thee, his cha&s;t and Maiden-bride:</L>
<L>And left he backward thence &s;hould flow,</L>
<L>Congeale him in thy Virgin-&s;now.</L>
<L>But if his owne heat, with thy paire</L>
<L>Of Neighbouring Suns, and flaming haire,</L>
<L>Thaw him into a new Divorce,</L>
<L>Le&s;t to the heart he take his cour&s;e:</L>
<L>O lodge me there where I'le defeat</L>
<L>A future hope of his retreat;</L>
<L>And force the fugitive to &s;eek</L>
<L>A con&s;tant &s;tation in thy cheek.</L>
<L>So each &s;hall have his proper place,</L>
<L>I in your heart, he in your face.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<PB N="81" REF="45">
<HEAD>&V;pon the naked Bedlams, and spotted Bea&s;ts, we &s;ee in Covent Garden.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>WHen <HI>Be&s;&s;e!</HI> &s;he ne're was halfe &s;o vainly clad,</L>
<L><HI>Be&s;&s;e</HI> ne're was halfe &s;o naked, halfe &s;o mad.</L>
<L>Again, this raves with Lu&s;t, for Love <HI>Be&s;&s;e</HI> ranted,</L>
<L>Then <HI>Be&s;&s;es</HI> skin was tan'd, but this is painted,:</L>
<L>No, this is Madam Spots, 'tis &s;he, I know her,</L>
<L>Her face is powdred <HI>Ermin,</HI> I'le &s;peak to her;</L>
<L>How does your mo&s;t enammel'd Lady&s;hip?</L>
<L>Nay pardon me, I dare not touch your Lip.</L>
<L>What ki&s;&s;e a Leopard&punc; he that Lips will clo&s;e,</L>
<L>With &s;uch a Bea&s;t as you, may lo&s;e his No&s;e.</L>
<L>Why in &s;uch ha&s;t? before we part 'tis meet.</L>
<L>You &s;hould doe penance Madam in a Sheet:</L>
<L>'Tis time when Schi&s;m and Error &s;o lowd cries.</L>
<L>To puni&s;h &s;uch notorious Sectaries.</L>
<L>I publickly appeare halfe <HI>Adamite,</HI></L>
<L>In private practice you are one outright.</L>
<L>But Dapl'd Ladyes, if you needs mu&s;t &s;how</L>
<L>Your nakedne&s;&s;e, yet pray why &s;potted &s;o?</L>
<L>Has beauty think you lu&s;tre from the&s;e &s;pots?</L>
<L>Is Paper fairer when 'tis &s;tain'd with blots?</L>
<L>What have you cut your Mask out into &s;ippets,</L>
<L>Like wanton Girles, to make you Spots and Tippets;</L>
<L><PB N="82" REF="46">
As I have &s;een a Cook, that over-neat,</L>
<L>To garni&s;h out a di&s;h hath &s;poil'd good meat?</L>
<L>Pride is a Plague, why &s;ure the&s;e are the &s;oares,</L>
<L>I will write <HI>(Lord have mercy)</HI> on your doors,</L>
<L>Devills are black who doubt it, but &s;ome write</L>
<L>That there are likewi&s;e Devills that are white:</L>
<L>Well, I have found a third &s;ort that are neither,</L>
<L>They are Py'de Devils, black and white together.</L>
<L>Come, tell me tru, for what the&s;e Spots are &s;et,</L>
<L>Are they Decoyes to draw fools to your net?</L>
<L>Are they like Ribons in the Mane and Tayle,</L>
<L>Of an old wincing Mare that's &s;et to &s;ale?</L>
<L>You that u&s;e publick trade mu&s;t hang out Signes,</L>
<L>Bu&s;hes you think will vent your naughty Wines.</L>
<L>I'le tell you (Ladyes) never give me tru&s;t,</L>
<L>If the&s;e baites move not more to &s;corn then Lu&s;t.</L>
<L>Perhaps they may a &s;tomach tempt, that loves</L>
<L>A Gammon of Bacon that's &s;tuft with Cloves;</L>
<L>Or White-broath with Pruines, but never hope,</L>
<L>That Love or Lu&s;t, to this patch't Lure &s;hould &s;toop,</L>
<L>Unle&s;&s;e of &s;uch rude Ruffins, as nere blu&s;h,</L>
<L>To enter wherefoe're they &s;ee a bu&s;h.</L>
<L>Who&s;e Breeches and who&s;e Shirts make plain report,</L>
<L>That they as ready are as you for &s;port.</L>
<L>Take my advice to be &s;ecure from jeers,</L>
<L>Wa&s;h off your &s;tinking Spots with bitter teares.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>O you &s;weet Rurall beauties who were never</L>
<L>Infected with this ugly &s;potted Feaver.</L>
<L><PB N="83" REF="46">
Who&s;e face is &s;moother then the Ivory plaine,</L>
<L>Need neither &s;pots from <HI>France,</HI> nor paint from <HI>Spaine.</HI></L>
<L>Who&s;e &s;nowie Mountaines never &s;aw the light,</L>
<L>And yet the Sun never &s;aw Snow &s;o white;</L>
<L>Who&s;e dre&s;&s;e the Emblem is of Mode&s;ty,</L>
<L>Who&s;e looks &s;ecure you from attempts; who&s;e Eye</L>
<L>Has made <HI>Iobs</HI> Vow, and kept it, and who&s;e who&s;e</L>
<L>Behaviour cha&s;t is, as your Virgin-&s;oule:</L>
<L>Which to adorn, take up your choice&s;t thoughts,</L>
<L>Not to get Pendants, Paintings, Ribonds, Spots:</L>
<L>Tru&s;t me (&s;weet Ladies) I that never thought</L>
<L>To love againe, do now extreamly dote;</L>
<L>Men that have Wit, Religion or E&s;tates,</L>
<L>Will be ambitious to make you their Mates;</L>
<L>Whil&s;t all tho&s;e naked Bedlams, painted Babies,</L>
<L>Spottified Faces, and Frenchified Ladies,</L>
<L>With all their proud phanta&s;ticall di&s;gui&s;es,</L>
<L>Will prove at la&s;t, but fooles and beggars prizes.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Dear Coz: the want of thy &s;weet company,</L>
<L>Puts me upon this idle Poetry:</L>
<L>May you returne with <HI>Olive</HI> in your hand,</L>
<L>Bring thy deare &s;elfe to me, peace to the Land.</L>
</LG>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<PB N="84" REF="47">
<HEAD>To Sir <HI>John Mennis,</HI> on a rich prize which he took on the Seas.</HEAD>
<LG>
<L>WAlking la&s;t Friday morning in my Garden,</L>
<L>Where &s;tands a hou&s;e that I have grunted hard in:</L>
<L>And finding there &s;weet <HI>William</HI> by my Bower,</L>
<L>It made me thinke of <HI>Iohn</HI> for halfe an houre.</L>
<L>Thou art (I heare) where thou do&s;t play Car|noggin</L>
<L>Thou broughte&s;t from <HI>Wales,</HI> 'gain&s;t flute of <HI>Hogan Mogan.</HI></L>
<L>And where thou richly do&s;t abound in Ghelt,</L>
<L>And ropes of Pearl now &s;trip't off from thy Belt;</L>
<L>But now laid up in &s;afety on the &s;helfe,</L>
<L>Pearl that's more orient, then the Ea&s;t it &s;elf;</L>
<L>A Bag of Diamonds too: and I Divine,</L>
<L>That long ere this, all the Hauns Townes are thine;</L>
<L>After thine own thou need&s;t not call the&s;e Lands,</L>
<L>For they are ready Chri&s;tned to thy hands,</L>
<L>Whiles thus in thy <HI>Seraglio</HI> thou do&s;t bri&s;tle,</L>
<L>Poore Lady at <HI>New-ca&s;tle</HI> may go whi&s;tle,</L>
<L>Or gnaw the &s;heets for angui&s;h, no <HI>Iohn</HI> comes,</L>
<L>He weares out all he hath in forraine bums,</L>
<L>Hee's not at all concern'd in us (poor fouls)</L>
<L>His friends may hang and who's will carry coles.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<PB N="85" REF="47">
<L>Nay never to&s;&s;e your no&s;e; I knew thee man</L>
<L>When thou wer't little better then poor <HI>Iohn:</HI></L>
<L>The worlds well mended &s;ince the warre began,</L>
<L>Thou'rt now become the great <HI>Leviathan:</HI></L>
<L>And as that mon&s;ter when he hath got a prize</L>
<L>Now eats, then farts out Pilchards as he lies.</L>
<L>So thou devour'&s;t at Sea, making no bones</L>
<L>Of &s;maller ve&s;&s;ells, and their precious Stones.</L>
<L>We have no booties brought us in from Sea,</L>
<L>To furni&s;h us for rates or monthly pay.</L>
<L>No Jewels, nor rich prizes, no &s;uch matter,</L>
<L>When Troopers come, we run &amp; pawn a Platter,</L>
<L>That we can &s;pare, for we have little meat,</L>
<L>If this world hold, we &s;hall forget to eate.</L>
<L>We &s;hall be free-born people then <HI>(Oh Hector)</HI></L>
<L>When we have nothing left but a&mdash;</L>
<L>Hard-hearted Knight, how can&s;t thou heare this tale</L>
<L>And not bepi&s;&s;e thy &s;elf with grief or Ale?</L>
<L>Ha&s;t thou no moi&s;ture, no relenting left?</L>
<L>Wilt thou &s;it alwayes brooding ore thy theft,</L>
<L>And part with never a penny to the Mu&s;es,</L>
<L>Nor to thy friends, nor yet to pious u&s;es?</L>
<L>Wee'le draw thy picture (Churle) and thy &s;hape both</L>
<L>Standing like <HI>Dives</HI> in the painted cloth.</L>
<L>One that nere thought upon his friends till then,</L>
<L>When he was in the Devills frying pan.</L>
<L>Then when it is too late thou wilt confe&s;&s;e,</L>
<L>Thou ha&s;t more &s;inn'd in Friend&s;hip then</L>
</LG>
<CLOSER><SIGNED>I. S.</SIGNED></CLOSER>
</DIV2>
<DIV2 TYPE="poem">
<PB N="86" REF="48">
<HEAD>A Defiance to <HI>K. A.</HI> and his round Table. <HI>Incipit J. A.</HI></HEAD>
<LG>
<L>AS it befell on a Pentico&s;t day,</L>
<L>King <HI>Arthur</HI> at <HI>Camelot,</HI> kept his Court royall</L>
<L>With his faire Queen dame <HI>Guinever</HI> the gay,</L>
<L>And many Princes and Lords in Hall.</L>
<L>Heralds with Hukes, hearing full hie</L>
<L>Cryed <HI>large&s;&s;e, large&s;&s;e, Chevaliers tres hardy.</HI></L>
<L>A doubty Dwarfe to the uppermo&s;t Deske,</L>
<L>Boldly gan wick kneeling on knee;</L>
<L>Cry'd, King <HI>Arthur</HI> God thee &s;ave and &s;ee.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>Sir <HI>Rhines</HI> of <HI>Northgales</HI> greeteth well thee,</L>
<L>And bids that thy Beard anon thou him &s;end,</L>
<L>Or el&s;e from thy jawes he will it off rend.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>For his Roabe of State is a rich Scarlet Mantle,</L>
<L>With eleven Kings Beards bordered about,</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>And there is room left in a Cantell,</L>
<L>For thine to make it out.</L>
<L>This mu&s;t be done be thou never &s;o &s;tout,</L>
<L>This mu&s;t be done, I tell thee no Fable,</L>
<L>Maugre the teeth of all thy round Table.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>When this doubty dwarfe his dismall me&s;&s;age had &s;aid,</L>
<L>The King fun'd, Queen &s;creek'd, Ladyes were aga&s;t,</L>
<L><PB N="87" REF="48">
Princes puff'd, Barons blu&s;ter'd, Lords began to lowre,</L>
<L>Knights and Squires &s;torm'd, like Steeds in a flowre</L>
<L>Yeomen and Pages yelld out in hall,</L>
<L>With that came in Sir <HI>Guy</HI> the Sene&s;chall.</L>
<L>Silence my Soveraigne, quoth this Courtious Knight,</L>
<L>And therewithall the &s;towre began to &s;till.</L>
<L>The Dwarfes dinner was full dearly deight,</L>
<L>Of Wine and Wa&s;&s;ell he had his will.</L>
<L>And when he had eaten and drunken his fill,</L>
<L>A hundred pieces of fine Coined Gold,</L>
<L>Was given the Dwarfe for his Me&s;&s;age &s;o bold.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>But &s;ay to Sir <HI>Rhines</HI> thou Dwarfe quoth the King,</L>
<L>That for his bold Me&s;&s;age, I him defie,</L>
<L>For &s;hortly I meane with Ba&s;ons him to ring</L>
<L>Out of Northgales where he and I</L>
<L>With Swords, and no Razors &s;hall quickly try,</L>
<L>Which of us two is the be&s;t Barber.</L>
</LG>
<LG>
<L>And then withall he &s;hook his good Sword.</L>
<L><HI>Excutitur</HI></L>
</LG>
<CLOSER><SIGNED>Sic Explicit,
I. A.</SIGNED></CLOSER>
</DIV2>
<TRAILER>FINIS.</TRAILER>
</DIV1>
</BODY>
</TEXT>
</EEBO>
</ETS>
