The Anatomy of Baseness, Poem 5 – Poem 12

The Anatomy of Baseness · Poem 5 – Poem 12

TO THE BOVNTIFVLL.

IF on the waters you ſhall caſt your bread

it is not loſt, but if your pearles you throw

VntoUnto theſe ſwine, be ſure the ſame they'l tread

vnderunder their feete; good ſeed in good ground ſowen,

Beneficìa malè locata malefacta ſunt.Fauours ill plac'd, are numbred with ill deeds;

for if that hand which liberally beſtowes,

(Though it (in giuing) other mens exceedes)

not the true vſe of Bountie rightly knowes,

Twere better be more ſparing, for to giuegive

is proper to all creatures in their kinde:

The meaneſt thing which we can ſay doth liue,

in ſome reſpect we beneficiall finde.

But vntounto man is only giuen the powre

to limit Bounty, know when, how, on whom,

Beſt to beſtowe; not like a heedleſſe ſhowre

to let faire flowers die in their mothers wombe

For lacke of moiſture, whil'ſt vponupon vild weedes

it (in aboundance) poures refreſhing droppes;

This kinde of giuing naturally proceedes

from partiall hands, which in the courſe ſoone ſtoppes.

Nor ſhould your bountie (like the ſunne) runne round

and ſhine on all alike, though (like the beames)

The ſame ſhould ſeldome in the eclipſe be found;

the trueſt Bountie liues betweene extreames.

**Non ita claudenda eſt res familiaris, vt eam benignitas aperire non poſsit, nec ita reſeranda vt pateat omnibus.Your hand ſhould neuer be ſo lockt from all,

as to deſerue a couetous report:

Nor ſtill in action like your Prodigall,

who makes expence his moſt delightfull ſport:

Long ſince were none then Good-men held more fit

to taſte your Bountie (then 'twas rightly vs'd);

But in thoſe daies, ſuch men muſt naked ſit:

thus is true liberality abus'd.

He that can now moſt temporize, beſt thriues,

and great men, more then good men, Bounty taſte;

Honie is brought vntounto the fulleſt hiues,

ſmall riuers giuegive vntounto the ſea (in waſte.)

Many (againe) like Husband-men doe lay

their ſeede in th'boſome of the fatteſt ground;

Whoſe richneſſe will with much aduantage paie,

where for each graine there ſhall an eare be found:

And ſome of you, to gaine a knaues good word;

orby a Ieſter to be highly prais'd

Will giuegive with both handes, place them at your boord;

when good-men are not ore your threſhold rais'd.

Bounties pure current in this muddie time,

is by the fogges of Prodigalitie

So ſteinch't, with ſtinking ayres, ſo 're-ſpread with ſlime,

that (as it were not) no ſuch thing we ſee.

Wee finde the ſtreame as contrary to runne,

vntounto that courſe which it ſhould rightly hold:

As is the Weſt to th'riſing of the ſunne,

or Southerne heate vntounto the Northerne cold.

Nay more, this Vertue ſuffers ſo much wrong,

as to be made a ſubiect nay a ſlaue;

Euen vntounto ſuch whoſe baſe malitious tongue

the Giuers reputation dare depraue:

Yet hauehave they ſtill gift after gift receiu'd,

euen to the full of their deſires. Shall I

Taelis benignitas vanitati est coniunctior, quam liberalitati. Cic.Say this was bounty? I might ſeeme bereav'd

(in ſaying ſo) of ſence and honeſty.

If a curſt dogge (fed at your table) bites you,

you'le kick him (if not hang him) at the leaſt:

And in a man (which doggedly requites you)

reward you that, you puniſh in a Beaſt?

I know not what to tearme this kinde of giuing:

nor will I make my braine a minte for phraſe;

But wiſh that men (whil'ſt their faire fame is liuing,

would manifeſt it comes of Vertues race:

Whoſe true-borne children ſhould relieue her friends;

but Vertue ſtarues, they ſo degenerate

Virtus laudatur & alget.In ſucking baſe ones, for their priuate ends

whil'ſt ſhe and hers (though prais'd) are deſolate.

Alas poore Vertue, (onelyonly poore to ſuch,

as do not know thy worth, who liue and die

Without all ſence of goodnes, or a touch,

of ought but Beaſt-like ſenſualitie):

Or rather let me pittie them then thee.

for though the ſtrange deformed Brats of vice

Be richly clad now, thine in pouertie;

they valued high, but thine at meaneſt price;

The time may come, when Bountie ſhall appeare

pure, like it ſelfe, and like faire Vertues friend.

When Oſtentation ſhall not dare come neere,

nor Prodigalitie perſwade her ſpend,

But vponupon ſuch as merite more then craue;

then ſhall no bauling foole, no wit-bare Ieſter,

No fawning baſe inſinuating ſlaue

preſume, the place where Bountie liues to peſter.

And you that now it thus abuſe, ſhall then

curſe your much-giuing, and miſ-giuing hand.

When you ſhall ſee the deeds of other men,

grauen in braſſe, yours written in the ſand.

Such mettle are mens hearts, the thankfull part

cannot forget the good it doth receiue,

But (as in braſſe) record it in his heart,

of which no time can ere the ſame bereaue.

Th'ingratefull Nature (ſand-like) doth retaine

th'impreſsion of your hand, and more perceiues

An aptneſſe in it ſelfe to take againe,

then to make ſhew it any thing receiues.

TO THE INGRATEFVLL.

IS 't long of thy ſhort memorie, that thou

yeeld'ſt not due thanks, where thou the ſame do'ſt owe?

Alas, good man; why do'ſt thou not forget

to begge as well? or doſt thou thinke it fit

For men to craue thy thankes; becauſe to thee

vnask't their fauours came not? can there be

Excuſe allow'd for ſuch a fault? O no;

But contrarie, no Tyrants lawe can ſhow

A torture too ſeuere for ſuch an Ill:

Looke how an ore-charg'd peece breaking doth kill

The gazers on, and yet the Gunner ſtand

not hurt at all, though from his fatall hand

Death tooke his flight; ſo doth thy want of Art

rightly to vſe a friend, make many ſmart

And ſuffer too vniuſtly: For, thy fault

makes honeſt hearts (with no ſuch baſeneſſe fraught)

Suſpected; which approues the Prouerbe true

men ſcalt with hot, cold water do eſchewe.

The guiltleſſe ſeruants of that **Naball.Carmelite

inur bane foole, who did with ill requite

Fauours receiv'd) had been to death purſude

(but for his wife) for his Ingratitude.

Arr thou reliev'd in want, and canſt forget

(vnworthy wretch) what gracious hand did ſet

Thy miſry free? dooſt thinke ther's nothing more

to be perform'd, when of thy leaprous ſore

Of Pouerty thou'rt cur'd; no thankes, no praiſe,

rendred to him which chang'd thy painfull daies

To times of eaſe? more grieuous is thy ſore

(through thy neglect) by much then 't was before.

Thine outward ſence then only felt the ſmart;

but now it ſticks ſo cloſe to thy falſe heart,

(And vlc'ring ly'th in thy corrupted bloud)

that not from thence proceedes a thought that's good.

If by ſiniſter meanes thou haſt obtain'd

what thou inioy'ſt, thou canſt not ſay 'tis gain'd.

By wealth that's purchaſt with the loſſe of Fame,

men do growe rich in nothing elſe but ſhame:

In whom, deſert, no thankfulneſſe doth moue,

they doe no leſſe then cheate men of their louelove.

Thou with a hollow heart, falſe, ſtopp'd within,

on thy beſt friends wilt play, ſo thou mai'ſt win:

Gaine ſauours well to thy miſiudging ſence,Dulcis odor lucri.

whoſe facultie can eaſily diſpence

With any Stocke, with any ground, or dung

(bee't ne're ſo baſe, or vild for any tongue

But thine to touch) from whence it doth proceede,

though in thy boſome with the ſame doth breed

Hatefull Ingratitude; whoſe braſen brow

(bold Impe of Impudence) will not allow

A bluſh to touch it. I confeſſe my fault

from miſconſtruction came, in that I thought

Thou had'ſt been man, aſwell in deed, as Name,

which title di'd to thee, when thou to ſhame.

OF THE ENVIOVS.

DOe we not hold him mad, that in his hand

dare gripean Adder, though he cruſh it dead?

or ſeemes it ſtrange, if he by whom is fedde

A Lyons whelpe, or hath of Beares command,

Shall hauehave his bloud by them vntimely ſhed?

What ſhall we thinke him then that entertaines

a Viper next his heart, which from his vaines

Sucks his beſt bloud, and leaueth in the ſtead

A fretting poyſon? whoſe effect is this,

It makes him grieue and rage at others good,

to ſtabbe himſelfe to ſpill an others bloud,

And thinke himſelfe curs'd in an others bliſſe.

Let him be gorg'd, euen to the very throate;

yet will he vexe to heare an other call

for a poore cruſt of bread; it frets his gall

To ſee a ſayle belongs not to his boate.

If with the price of one of his owne eyes

he can buy both an other mans, hee'l doo't:

'Tis to be fear'd too, for a Soule to boote

Hee'l giuegive his owne to hell a ſacrifice.

This is the man which from his mothers wombe

hath been peruerſe and froward, whoſe vild life

is nouriſht only by the breath of ſtrife;

Which birth and breathing cannot want a roome

At laſt in hell; for he that trauells heere

(this Monſter-like) with miſchiefe, cannot finde

a place more ſuting to his diu'liſh mind,

Then where his friends and father may be neere,

To be deliuer'd of his hell-bred ſeede:

for there ſome damn'd infernall Hagge or other

may be the Midwife, fit for ſuch a mother

From whom (at beſt) ſome Fury muſt proceede.Vix ſunt ho… hoc nomine … quam que lup… plus ſeritatis bent, perfud… maenus frate… ſanguine fr…

This is the man who ſits, and laughs to ſpie

where men do (Wolfe-like) by the throate, each other

teare: how th'inhumane brother kills the brother,

And by the hand of children, Parents die.

Where he perceiues an others downe-fall nigh,

He thirſts to ſee their ruine, more then they

whoſe high-flowne Falcons (watchfull for their prey)

Threatning to bring Deſtruction from the skie,

Long to behold the fearefull game ſtrooke dead.

'Tis Enuies life, ſoule, ſummum bonum, all

which we tearm deere, to ſee an other fall,

Though 't be the man that giues his hunger bread.

To ſee his neighbour faſt is his beſt foode,

It makes him leane to ſee another fat;

He pines to nought, when he finds nought whereat

He may repine. To hauehave him vnderſtood,

And to the full deſcrib'd; thus in a word,

it grieues his ſtaru'ling ſpirit more to ſee

An others good, then his owne miſerie;Inuidus non … nu… diſcruciat… aliena felicita quàm ſu… inf… tuni….

Though it cut deeper then Afflictions ſword.

TO THE ENVIED.

IS it not ſtrange, that ſuch can liue, whoſe foode

is dres'd by Enuie, and with poyſon mixt,

Whoſe heart's the kitchin, and whoſe canker'd bloud

the meager Cooke carowſeth; while betwixt,

His maſter and the diuell are begotten

prodigious Monſters, which appeare as barren

Of honeſtie as Hell, their ioints as rotten

through want of marrow, as a peece of carrion?

By theſe th'art malic'd; but be not diſmaide

nor grieue thou at them, rather for them grieue

If ſo thou canſt thy Charitie perſwade,

(which as thou'rt fleſh and bloud, I ſcarce belieue.)

When a fierce Dogge comes running at thee, ſtay

and thou ſhalt finde hee'l rather back retire,

Then offer to aſſault thee: if away

from him thou fly'ſt thou further'ſt his deſire.

So theſe (farre worſe then dogges) will fiercely bite,

when they perceiue their venome makes thee ſtirre:

For nothing giues ſuch fulneſſe of delight

to th'ſnarling ſpleene of a malitious Curre,

As to behold the miſchiefe that he doth.

But where well-temper'd patience doth preſerue

Inuidia virtute parta, gloria, non inuidia putanda eſt.(As a ſafe Antidote to th'rankling tooth

of Enuies whelpes) they pine awaie, and ſtarue.

This to thy Fare-well; if thy Vertues make thee

hatefull to th'bad, their enuie is thy glorie:

If louelove to vice make good mens louelove forſake thee,

reſolue thy ſelfe they enuy not, they 're ſorrie.

To the Enuious.

BVt that I know thy face, I muſt confeſſe

I ſhould hauehave trembled; for an Obiect leſſe

Fearefull, were able without Phyſicks Art

To make a Coſtiue man play a looſe part.

I cannot thinke the worſt of Pharaoes kine

Look't halfe ſo bare, as this poore trunke of thine;

Which like Sir Cranion, or a ſtarv'ling Capon

Staukes here and there, proportionably ſhapen

To thy leane ſpirit, whoſe repining hate

Hath brought thy Carcaſſe to this pining ſtate.

I ſee there are more waies to th'wood then one.

Not age, or wedlocke, bring'th a man alone

VntoUnto a Night-cap; for a wretched minde

Gaue thine to thee; O had it been ſo kinde

T'haue put a Noſe-gaie too into thy hand;

And in thy Ruffes roome plac'd a falling band,

Many had look't t'haue ſeene thee turne, and Hope

Would hauehave preſum'd that next had come a Roape:

Whereto thy hanging ominous lookes preſage

Thou muſt do homage; in th'meane time, ingage

That little hope thy wretched ſoule enioyes

Of Heauen, to him who thy beſt good deſtroyes,

In feeding thy inſatiable ſpleene;

Which, (had not helpe from hell tranſported been)

Could not hauehave been ſo diueliſh as 't hath proov'd,

But it in thee infernall powers hauehave mou'd:

Scarce Hell it ſelfe, could conſter that for ill;

VVhichWhich (damned) thou (to ſatisfie thy will)

Haſt vrg'd (I know) as an extreame offence,

Againſt vnguiltie, harmeleſſe Innocence.

VVhichWhich hiath by ſome (too credulous weake men)

(Out of their wiſdomes) been found faulty; when

Had they been maſters but of ſo much ſight,

As to diſtinguiſh betweene day and night,

They had beene leſſe iniurious, or more iuſt;

But to ſuch Iudges muſt the guilty truſt,

VVhil'ſt Innocence muſt ſuffer; yet not ſo

But it may liue to ſee their ouerthrow

VVho moale-like heaue vnſeene, till at the laſt

Their working be diſcouer'd, and they caſt

Out of their hollow trenches, and withall

Trod on by them, whom they deſir'd might fall;

Then ſhall your ſable Cacodaemon be

Hang'd with a twigge vponupon ſome willow tree;

To all which Enuious vndermining ſlaues,

I wiſh no fairer Ends, no better graues.

OF THE DETRACTER.

THis comes in laſt, becauſe he comes behinde

thoſe whom he wrongs, though in his doing ſo

the diuell cannot him in skill foregoe;

VntoUnto the laſt but this, This laſt I finde

To be as neere alli'd in Baſeneſſe, as

a brother can be to a brother twinne,

in feature, though (as oft) Nature therein

Proportion them ſo like, that each doth paſſe

For other. Only this one difference I note

this laſt, allow'th more freedome to his tongue

then Enuie doth, and other men are ſtung

By him more then himſelfe; he makes his throate

An open graue, where his contagious breath,

labours to blaſt the ſpotleſſe fame of ſuch,

whoſe Reputation it ſhall chance to touch.

Nor can the hand of Reconciling Death

Free men from this iniurious Monſters ſting,

which through the bowels of the earth doth pierce,

and in the quiet vault appeares more fierce

Then Death (the graues ſterne tyranizing King.)

Were a man here as free from actuall ill,

as when he firſt mov'd in his mothers wombe;

or as the man that calls the Heauen his home

Guiltleſſe of ſinne; yet would this trie his skill.

If in a bul-ruſh he can finde a knot;

or from pure hony (which the harmleſſe Bee

ſuck'd from thoſe flowers which like it ſelfe was free)

Straine poiſon'd iuyce; where if he finde one iot

Which he can iudge doth reliſh of a weede

(from which the toylſome Bee cheerfully flies,

home to the hiue with hony-laden thighs)

He ſtraite concludes no good can thence proceed.

So ſtrange is the diſtraction of this Tom

of Bedlam, that all places, times, and men

without diſtinction ſeeme alike: for when

The furious rayling fit comes on him, from

His ſtinking ſtomacke, hee 'le belch forth ſuch geere,

ſuch filth; and with ſuch violence, as though

he meant to caſt his rotten garbage: ſo

He ioyes to make his loathſomneſſe appeare.

This (what ſhall I terme him?) will deuoure your bread,

call you his maſter, crouch with cap in hand,

profeſſe he falls, if you ſhall faile to ſtand;

Yet curſe you liuing, ioy when you are dead.

He 'le be the Herald of your Infamy,

and ſcandalize your worth, though you hauehave bred

him to the ſhape of man euen from a ſhred.

Hic niger est, &c.This is a blacke-one, full of trechery.

To the Detracted.

THough Wolues againſt the ſiluer Moon do bark,

they blemiſh not her brightnes, nor the ſpight

Of bauling Curres, (which ſhe diſdains to mark)

can any whit eclipſe her of her light.

So mai'ſt thou ſlight the railing of ill tongues,

if a cleere ſhining conſcience be thy guard;

Which to defend thee from the worſt of wrongs,

will, as a wall of braſſe, be found as hard.

Men are by Nature apt to blame, and hate

ſuch as diſtaſte what they approue as good:

If thou diſlike to heare a Parrat prate,

and tell a tedious tale of Robin-hood;

He 'le ſhoot Detractions boult againſt thy braine,

terming it ſhallow, barren, poore and dull;

Becauſe not vented by a windy vaine,

empt'ing it ſelfe to make thy mouth ſhew full.

But wiſer men then he aſſures thee no;Loquacit a… certiſsimū fatuitatis argumētum Eraſ.

They are moſt fooles (ſay they) that vſe moſt words:

That ſilence argues folly, 't is not ſo;

for vertues branches no ſuch fruite affords.

Admit a Turke ſhould call thee Infidell;

wouldſt be offended? or imagine, that

One dubbe thee knaue, in whoſe owne heart doth dwell

baſeneſſe enough, to make him wondred at

By all that know him? ſhall the firſt perſwade thee,

that thy Religion knowes more Gods then one;

Or to denie the ſacred power that made thee,

or t'giue his honour to a carued ſtone?

Or can the ſecond force thee to confeſſe

through his report, thou art as baſe as he?

If none of theſe thou wilt, their power's the leſſe,

thy worth the more by their detracting thee.

An honeſt fame (like ſpice) the more 'tis brus'd

ſauours the ſweeter, which when we are dead

Will be the ſweeteſt ſeare-cloath can be vs'd

to wrap vsus in; it will out-laſt the lead

Wherein that bodie lies, in which did liue

a ſpotted conſcience, a detracting ſpirit;

Which to it ſelfe an earthly heauen did giuegive,

and of Heauens ioyes it ſelfe did diſinherite.

TO THE DETRACTER.

THink'ſt thou it makes thy Reputation faire,

if by thy muddy tongue thou canſt impaire

An other mans? looke how a murtherer can

(whoſe fatall hand ſhall kill an other man)

Adde to his owne by ſhortning others daies;

ſo by detracting others growes by praiſe.

Perchance thou feed'ſt thy ſelfe with a conceipt,

that eueryevery man that heares thee raile, doth ſtraite

Belieue that all thou ſayſt is true, for that

they contradict thee not; Ile tell thee what,

In my opinion thou ſhouldſt rather feare,

it makes them tremble and amaz'd to heare,

How diu'liſhly thou ſecond'ſt what thou ſay'ſt

with oaths, and curſes; or admit thou mai'ſt

Light vponupon ſome who (knowing not thy vſe)

may be perſwaded, that from ſome abuſe

Offer'd to thee, proceeds thy railing fit:

Yet all the glory thou enioy'ſt by it

Is, they'le note thee euerafter, for

a creature which all good men ſhould abhorre.

Or ſay thou ſhalt ſome man, to ſome depraue

who know him honeſt; think'ſt thou for a knaue

They can do leſſe then iudge thee? and beware

thou rayl'ſt to no men that iuditious are:

For they 'le ſoone finde that thou diſhoneſt art,

and therefore know thou tak'ſt no good mans part:

Whoſe prayſe they iudge is equally the ſame,

Where Iuſt men doe applaud, or thou defame.

I might hauehave ſpar'd my breath in wiſhing thee

to men of iudgement not to be too free;

For thou art chiefly carefull in this point

to plie his eare whoſe iudgement's out of ioynt:

By whom as yet was neuer vnderſtood

how any cauſe could, but the firſt, be good;

Whoſe ignorance (I thinke) might argue rather

Th' Vicar of fooles will prooue their ghoſtly father.

And as for thee, thou doſt reſolue I know

thou muſt die mad, thy braine's diſtemperd ſo.

Which will be for thy credit when thou 'rt dead:

for ſome will lay the fault vponupon thy head,

And ſay thy braine inforc'd thy tongue to raue.

Better be thought a mad-man then a knaue.

FINIS.

Qui ducis vultus, & non legis iſta libenter,

Omnibus iuuideas liuide, nemo tibi.

Mart.

End of the text · John Andrewes, The Anatomy of Baseness (1615)