Collection of Poems, Poem 1 – To the reader 1

Collection of Poems · Poem 1 – To the reader 1

To the Kings moſt Excellent MAIESTIE. A SATYRE.

Quid tu, ſi pereo?

WHat once the Poet ſaid, I may auow,

'Tis a hard thing not to write Satyrs, now,

Since, what we ſpeake (abuſe raigns ſo in all)

Spight of our hearts, will be Satyricall.

Let it not therefore now be deemed ſtrange,

My vnſmooth'd lines their rudeneſſe do not change;

Nor be diſtaſtefull to my gracious King,

That in the Cage, my old harſh notes I ſing:

And rudely, make a Satyre here vnfold,

What others would in neater tearmes hauehave told.

And why? my friends and meanes in Court are ſcant,

Knowledge of curious phraſe, and forme I want.

I cannot bear't to runne my ſelfe in debt,

To hire the Groome, to bid the Page entreat,

Some fauourd Follower to vouchſafe his word

To get me a cold comfort from his Lord.

I cannot ſooth, (though it my life might ſaue,)

Each Fauourite, nor crouch to eu'ry Knaue.

I cannot brooke delayes as ſome men do,

With ſcoffes, and ſcornes, and tak't in kindneſſe to.

For ere I'de binde my ſelfe for ſome ſlight grace,

To one that hath no more worth then his place.

Or, by a baſe meane free my ſelfe from trouble,

I rather would endure my penance double:

Cauſe to be forc'd to what my mind diſdaines,

Is worſe to me then tortures, rackes, and chaines.

And therefore vntounto thee I onelyonly flye,

To whom there needs no meane but Honeſty.

To thee, that lou'ſt nor Paraſite or Minion,

Should ere I ſpeake poſſeſſe thee with opinion.

To thee, that do'ſt what thou wilt vndertake,

For louelove of Iuſtice, not the perſons ſake.

To thee, that know'ſt how vaine all faire ſhewes be,

That flow not from the hearts ſinceritie;

And canſt, though ſhadowed in the ſimpleſt vaile,

Diſcerne both LoueLove and Truth, and where they faile.

To thee doe I appeale; in whom Heau'n knowes,

I next to God my confidence repoſe.

For, can it be thy Grace ſhould euer ſhine,

And not enlighten ſuch a Cauſe as mine?

Can my hopes (fixt in thee great King) be dead;

Or thou thoſe Satyrs hate thy Forreſts bred?

Where ſhall my ſecond hopes be founded then,

If euer I hauehave heart to hope agen?

Can I ſuppoſe a fauour may be got

In any place, when thy Court yeelds it not?

Or that I may obtaine it in the land,

When I ſhall be deni'd it at thy hand?

And if I might, could I delighted be,

To tak't of others, when I miſt of thee?

Or if I were, could I hauehave comfort by it,

When I ſhould thinke my Soueraigne did deny it?

No; were I ſure, I to thy hate were borne,

To ſeeke for others fauours, I would ſcorne.

For, if the beft-worth-loues I could not gaine,

To labour for the reſt I would diſdaine.

But why ſhould I thy fauour here diſtruſt,

That hauehave a cauſe ſo knowne, and knowne ſo iuſt?

Which not alone my inward comfort doubles,

But all ſuppoſe me wrong'd that heare my troubles.

Nay, though my fault were Reall, I beleeue

Thou art ſo Royall, that thou wouldſt forgiue.

For, well I know, thy ſacred Maieſty

Hath euer beene admir'd for Clemency,

And at thy gentleneſſe the world hath wondred,

For making Sun-ſhine, where thou mightſt hauehave thundred.

Yea, thou in mercy, life to them didſt giuegive

That could not be content to ſee thee liue.

And can I thinke that thou wilt make me, then,

The moſt vnhappy of all other men?

Or let thy loyall Subiect, againſt reaſon,

Be puniſht more for LoueLove, then ſome for Treaſon?

No, thou didſt neuer yet thy glory ſtaine

With an iniuſtice to the meaneſt Swaine.

'Tis not thy will I'me wrong'd, nor doſt thou know,

If I hauehave ſuffred iniuries or no.

For if I hauehave not heard falfe Rumours flie,

Th'aſt grac'ſt me with the ſtile of Honeſty,

And if it were ſo (as ſome thinke it was)

I cannot ſee how it ſhould come to paſſe

That thou, from whoſe free tongue proceedeth nought

Which is not correſpondent with thy thought.

Thoſe thoughts to, being fram'd in Reaſons mould,

Should ſpeake that once, which ſhould not euer hold.

But paſſing it as an vncertainety,

I humbly beggethee, by that Maieſty,

Whoſe ſacred Glory ſtrikes a louing-feare

Into the hearts of all, to whom 'tis deare:

To deigne me ſo much fauour, without merit,

As read this plaint of a diſtempered ſpirit:

And thinke, vnleſſe I ſaw ſome hideous ſtorme,

Too great to be endur'd by ſuch a worme,

I had not thus preſum'd vntounto a King,

With Aeſops Fly, to ſeeke an Eagles wing:

Know I am he, that entred once the liſt,

Gainſt all the world to play the Satyriſt:

T was I, that made my meaſures rough and rude,

Dance arm'd with whips amidſt the multitude,

And vnappalled with my charmed Scrowles,

Teaz'd angry Monſters in their lurking holes.

I'ue plaid with Waſpes and Hornets without feares,

Till mad they grew, and ſwarm'd about my eares.

I'ue done it, and me thinkes tis ſuch braue ſport,

I may be ſtung, but nere be ſorry for't.

For, all my griefe is, that I was ſo ſparing,

And had no more in't, worth the name of daring.

He that will taxe theſe times muſt be more bitter,

Tart lines of Vinegar and Gall are fitter.

My fingers and my ſpirits were benum'd,

My inck ran forth too ſmooth, twas two much gum'd;

I'de hauehave my Pen ſo paint it, where it traces,

Each accent, ſhould draw blood into their faces.

And make them, when their Villanies are blazed,

Shudder and ſtartle, as men halfe amazed,

For feare my Verſe ſhould make ſo loud a din,

Heauen hearing might raine vengeance on their ſin.

Oh now, for ſuch a ſtraine! would Art could teach it.

Though halfe my ſpirits I conſum'd to reach it.

I de learne my Muſe ſo braue a courſe to flie,

Men ſhould admire the power of Pooſie.

And thoſe that dar'd her greatneſſe to reſiſt,

Quake euen at naming of a Satyriſt.

But when his ſcourging numbers flow'd with wonder,

Should cry, God bleſſe vsus, as they did at thunder.

Alas! my lines came from me too-too dully,

They did not fill a Satyrs mouth vp fully.

Hot blood, and youth, enrag'd with paſſions ſtore,

Taught me to reach a ſtraine nere touch'd before.

But it was coldly done, I throughly … not:

And ſomewhat there is yet to doe, I did not.

More ſoundly could my ſcourge hauehave yerked many,

Which I omitted not for feare of any.

For want of action, diſcontentments rage,

Baſe diſ-reſpect of Vertue (in this age)

With other things which were to Goodneſſe wrong,

Made me ſo feareleſſe in my careleſſe Song:

That, had not reaſon within compaſſe won me,

I had told Truth enough to hauehave vndone me.

(Nay, hauehave already, if that her Diuine

And vnſeene power, can doe no more then mine.)

For though fore-ſeeing warineſſe was good,

I fram'd my ſtile vntounto a milder mood;

And clogging her high-towring wings with mire,

Made her halfe earth, that was before all fire.

Though (as you ſaw) in a diſguiſed ſhew

I brought my Satyres to the open view:

Hoping (their out-ſides, being miſ-eſteem'd)

They might hauehave paſſed, but for what they ſeem'd:

Yet ſome whoſe Comments iumpe not with my minde,

In that low phraſe, a higher reach would finde,

And out of their deepe iudgements ſeeme to know,

What 'tis vncertaine if I meant or no:

Ayming thereby, out of ſome priuate hate,

To worke my ſhame, or ouer-throw my ſtate.

For, amongſt many wrongs my foe doth doe me,

And diuers imputations laide vntounto me,

(Deceiued in his ayme) he doth miſ-conſter

That which I hauehave enſtil'd a Man-like Monſter,

To meane ſome priuate perſon in the State,

Whoſe worth I ſought to wrong out of my hate;

Vpbraiding me, I from my word doe ſtart,

Either for want of better Ground, or Heart.

Cauſe from his expectation I did vary

In the denying of his Commentary,

Whereas tis knowne I meant Abuſe the while,

Not thinking any one could be ſo vile

To merit all thoſe Epithites of ſhame,

How euer many doe deſerue much blame.

But ſay, (I grant) that I had an intent

To hauehave it ſo (as he interprets) meant,

And let my gracious Liege ſuppoſe there were

One whom the State may hauehave iuſt cauſe to feare;

Or thinke there were a man (and great in Court)

That had more faults then I could well report;

Suppoſe I knew him, and had gone about

By ſome particular markes to paint him out,

That he beſt knowing his owne faults, might ſee,

He was the Man I would ſhould noted be:

Imagine now ſuch doings in this Age,

And that this man ſo pointed at, ſhould rage,

Call me in queſtion, and by his much threatning,

By long impriſonment, and ill-intreating

Vrge a Confeſſion, wert not a mad part

For me to tell him, what lay in my heart?

Doe not I know a great mans Power and Might;

In ſpight of Innocence, can ſmother Right,

Colour his Villanies, to get eſteeme,

And make the honeſt man the Villaine ſeeme?

And that the truth I told ſhould in concluſion,

For want of Power and Friends be my confuſion?

I know it, and the world doth know tis true,

Yet, I proteſt, if ſuch a man I knew,

That might my Country preiudice, or Thee,

Were he the greateſt or the proudeſt Hee

That breathes this day: (if ſo it might be found,

That any good to either might redound.)

So far Ile be (though Fate againſt me run)

From ſtarting off from that I hauehave begun,

I vn-appalled dare in ſuch a caſe

Rip vp his fouleſt Crimes before his face,

Though for my labour I were ſure to drop

Into the mouth of Ruine without hope.

But ſuch ſtrange farre-fetcht meanings they hauehave ſought,

As I was neuer priuie to in thought;

And that vntounto particulars would tie

Which I intended vniuerſally.

Whereat ſome with diſpleaſure ouer-gone,

(Thoſe I ſcarce dream'd of, ſaw, or thought vponupon)

Maugre thoſe caueats on my Satyrs brow,

Their honeſt and iuſt paſſage diſallow.

And on their heads ſo many cenſures rake,

That ſpight of me, themſelues they'le guilty make.

Nor is't enough, to ſwage their diſcontent,

To ſay I am (or to be) innocent.

For as, when once the Lyon made decree,

No horned beaſt ſhould nigh his preſence be,

That, on whoſe fore-head onelyonly did appeare

A bunch of fleſh, or but ſome tuft of haire,

Was euen as farre in danger as the reſt,

If he but ſaid, it was a horned beaſt:

So, there be now, who thinke in that their power

Is of much force, or greater farre then our;

It is enough to proue a guilt in me,

Becauſe (miſtaking) they ſo think't to be.

Yet 'tis my comfort, they are not ſo high,

But they muſt ſtoope to Thee and Equitie.

And this I know, though prickt; they ſtorme agen,

The world doth deeme them ne're the better men.

To ſtirre in filth, makes not the ſtench the leſſe,

Nor doth Truth feare the frowne of Mightineſſe.

Becauſe thoſe numbers ſhe doth daigne to grace,

Men may ſuppreſſe a while, but ne're deface.

I wonder, and 'tis wondred at by many,

My harmeleſſe lines ſhould breed diſtaſte in any:

And ſo, that (whereas moſt good men approue

My labour to be worthy thankes, and louelove)

I as a Villaine, and my Countries foe,

Should be impriſon'd, and ſo ſtrictly to,

That not alone my liberty is barr'd.

But the reſort of friends (which is more hard.)

And whilſt each wanton, or looſe Rimers Pen,

With oyly words, ſleekes o're the ſinnes of men,

Vayling his wits to eueryevery Puppets becke,

Which ere I'le doe, I'le ioy to breake my necke.

(I ſay) while ſuch as they in eueryevery place

Can finde protection, patronage and grace;

If any looke on me, 'tis but a skaunce

Or if I get a fauour, 'tis by chance.

I muſt protect my ſelfe: poore Truth and I

Can hauehave ſcarce one ſpeake for our honeſty.

Then whereas they can gold and gifts attaine,

Malitious Hate, and Enuy is my gaine,

And not alone hauehave here my Freedome loſt,

Whereby my beſt hope's likely to be croſt:

But hauehave beene put to more charge in one day.

Then all my Patrons bounties yet will pay.

What I hauehave done, was not for thirſt of gaine,

Or out of hope preferments to attaine.

Since to contemne them, would more profit me,

Then all the glories in the world that be:

Yet they are helpes to Vertue, vs'd aright,

And when they wanting be, ſhe wants her might.

For Eagles mindes ne're fit a Rauens feather,

To dare, and to be able, ſute together.

But what is't I hauehave done ſo worthy blame,

That ſome ſo eagerly purſue my fame?

Vouchſafe to view't with thine owne eyes, and trie

(Saue want of Art) what fault thou canſt eſpie.

I hauehave not ſought to ſcandalize the State,

Nor ſowne ſedition, nor made publike bate:

I hauehave not aym'd at any good mans fame,

Nor taxt (directly) any one by name.

I am not he that am growne diſcontent

With the Religion; or the Gouernement.

I meant no Ceremonies to protect,

Nor doe I fauour any new-ſprung Sect;

But to my Satyres gaue this onelyonly warrant,

To apprehend and puniſh Vice apparant.

Who aiming in particular at none,

In generall vpbraided eueryevery one:

That each (vnſhamed of himſelfe) might view

That in himſelfe, which no man dares to ſhew.

And hath this Age bred vp neat Vice ſo tenderly,

She cannot brooke it to be touch'd ſo ſlenderly?

Will ſhe not bide my gentle Satyres bites?

Harme take her then, what makes ſhe in their ſights?

If with impatience ſhe my Whip-cord feele,

How had ſhe raged at my laſh of Steele?

But am I call'd in queſtion for her cauſe?

Is't Vice that theſe afflictions on me drawes?

And need I now thus to Apologize,

OnelyOnly becauſe I ſcourged Villanies?

Muſt I be faine to giuegive a reaſon why,

And how I dare allow of Honeſty?

Whilſt that each fleering Paraſite is bold

Thy Royall brow vndaunted to hehold:

And eueryevery Temporizer ſtrikes a ſtring,

That's Muſicke for the hearing of a King?

Shall not he reach out to obtaine as much,

Who dares more for thee then a hundred ſuch?

Heauen grant her patience, my Muſe takes't ſo badly,

I feare ſhee'le loſe her wits, for ſhe raues madly.

Yet let not my dread Soueraigne too much blame her,

Whoſe awfull preſence, now hath made her tamer.

For if there be no Fly but hath her ſpleene,

Nor a poore Piſmire, but will wreake her teene;

How ſhall I then, that hauehave both ſpleene and gall,

Being vniuſtly dealt with, beare with all?

I yet with patience take what I hauehave borne,

And all the worlds enſuing hate can ſcorne:

But 't were in me as much ſtupiditie,

Not to hauehave feeling of an iniurie,

As it were weakeneſſe not to brooke it well:

What others therefore thinke I cannot tell;

But he that's leſſe then mad, is more then Man,

Who ſees when he hath done the beſt he can,

To keepe within the bounds of Innocence:

Sought to diſcharge his due to God and Prince.

That he, whilſt Villanies vnreproued goe,

Scoffing, to ſee him ouer-taken ſo,

Should hauehave his good endeauours miſconceiu'd,

Be of his dearest liberty bereau'd;

And which is worſe, without reaſon why,

Be frown'd on by Authorities grim eye.

By that great Power my ſoule ſo much doth feare,

She ſcornes the ſtearn'ſt frownes of a mortall Peere,

But that I Vertue louelove, for her owne ſake,

It were enough to make me vndertake

To ſpeake as much in praiſe of Vice agen.

And practiſe ſome to plague theſe ſhames of men.

I meane thoſe my Accuſers, who miſtaking

My aymes, doe frame conceits of their owne making.

But if I liſt, I need not buy ſo deere

The iuſt reuenge might be inflicted here.

Now could I meaſures frame in this iuſt fury,

Should ſooner finde ſome guilty then a Iury:

The words, like ſwords (temper'd with Art) ſhould pierce

And hang, and draw, and quarter them in verſe.

Or I could racke them on the wings of Fame,

(And he's halfe hang'd (they ſay) hath an ill name)

Yea, l'de goe neere to make thoſe guilty Elues,

Lycambes-like, be glad to hang themſelues:

And though this Age will not abide to heare

The faults reprou'd, that Custome hath made deare;

Yet, if I pleaſed, I could write their crimes,

And pile them vp in wals for after-times:

For they'le be glad (perhaps) that ſhall enſue,

To ſee ſome ſtory of their Fathers true.

Or ſhould I ſmother'd be in darkneſſe ſtill,

I might not vſe the freedome of a quill:

'T would raiſe vp brauer ſpirits then mine owne,

To make my cauſe, and this their guilt more knowne.

Who by that ſubiect ſhould get LoueLove and Fame,

VntoUnto my foes diſgrace, and endleſſe ſhame:

Thoſe I doe meane, whoſe Comments hauehave miſ-us'd me:

And to thoſe Peeres I honour, hauehave accus'd me:

Making againſt my Innocence their batteries,

And wronging them by their baſe flatteries:

But of reuenge I am not yet ſo faine,

To put my ſelfe vntounto that needleſſe paine:

Becauſe I know a greater Power there is,

That noteth ſmaller iniuries then this;

And being ſtill as iuſt as it is ſtrong,

Apportions due reuenge for eueryevery wrong.

But why (ſome ſay) ſhould his too fancy Rimes

Thus taxe the wiſe and great ones of our times?

It ſuites not with his yeeres to be ſo bold,

Nor fits it vsus by him to be controld.

I muſt confeſſe ('tis very true indeed)

Such ſhould not of my cenſure ſtand in need.

But blame me not, I ſaw good Vertue poore,

Deſert, among the moſt, thruſt out of doore,

Honeſtie hated, Curteſie baniſhed,

Rich men exceſſiue, poore men famiſhed:

Coldneſſe in Zeale, in Lawes partialitie,

Friendſhip but Complement, and vaine Formalitie,

Art I perceiue contem'd, while moſt aduance

(To offices of worth) Rich Ignorance:

And thoſe that ſhould our Lights and Teachers be

Liue (if not worſe) as wantonly as we.

Yea, I ſaw Nature from her courſe runne backe,

Diſorders grow, Good Orders goe to wracke.

So to encreaſe what all the reſt beganne,

I to this current of confuſion ranne.

And ſeeing Age, left off the place of guiding,

Thus plaid the fancy wagge, and fell to chiding.

Wherein, how euer ſome (perhaps) may deeme,

I am not ſo much faulty as I ſeeme:

For when the Elders wrong'd Suſanna's honer,

And none withſtood the Shame they laid vponupon her;

A Childe roſe vp to ſtand in her defence,

And ſpight of wrong confirm'd her Innocence:

To ſhew, thoſe muſt not, that good vndertake,

Straine curt'ſie, who ſhall do'…, for manners ſake.

Nor doe I know, whether to me God gaue

A boldneſſe more then many others hauehave,

That I might ſhew the world what ſhamefull blot

Vertue by her laſciurous Elders got.

Nor is't a wonder, as ſome doe ſuppoſe,

My Youth ſo much corruption can diſcloſe;

Since eueryevery day the Sunne doth light mine eyes,

I am informed of new villanies:

But it is rather to be wondred how

I either can, or dare be honeſt now.

And though againe there be ſome others rage

That I ſhould dare (ſo much aboue mine age)

Thus cenſure each degree, both young and old,

I ſee not wherein I am ouer-bold.

For if I hauehave beene plaine with Vice, I care not,

There's nought that I know good, and can, and dare not.

OnelyOnly this one thing doth my minde deterre,

Euen a feare (through ignorance) to erre.

But oh knew I, what thou would'ſt well approue,

Or might the ſmall'ſt reſpect within thee moue;

So in the ſight of God it might be good,

And with the quiet of my conſcience ſtood:

(As well I know thy true integrity

Would command nothing againſt Piety:)

There's nought ſo dangerous, or full of feare,

That for my Soueraignes ſake I would not dare.

Which good beliefe, would it did not poſſeſſe thee;

Prouided ſome iuſt triall might rebleſſe me:

Yea, though a while I did endure the gall

Of thy diſpleaſure in this loathſome thrall.

For notwithſtanding in this place I lye

By the command of that Authoritie,

Of which I hauehave ſo much reſpectiue care.

That in mine owne (and iuſt) defence I feare

To vſe the free ſpeech that I doe intend,

Leſt Ignorance, or Raſhneſſe ſhould offend.

Yet is my meaning and my thought as free

From wilfull wronging of thy Lawes or Thee,

As he …o whom thy Place and Perſons deareſt,

Or to himſelfe that finds his conſcience cle aeſt.

If there be wrong, 'tis not my making it,

All the offence is ſome's miſtaking it.

And is there any Iuſtice borne of late,

Makes thoſe faults mine, which others perpetrate?

What man could euer any Age yet finde,

That ſpent his ſpirits in this thankeleſſe kinde,

Shewing his meaning, to ſuch words could tye it,

That none could either wrong, or miſ-apply it.

Nay, your owne Lawes, which (as you doe intend)

In plain'ſt and moſt effectuall words are penn'd,

Cannot be fram'd ſo well to your intent,

But ſome there be will erre from what you meant.

And yet (alas) I muſt be ty'de vntounto

What neuer any man before could doe?

Muſt all I ſpeake, or write, ſo well be done

That none may pick more meanings thence then one?

Then all the world (I hope) will leaue diſ-vnion,

And eueryevery man become of one opinion.

But ſince ſome may, what care ſoe're we take,

Diuers conſtructions of our Writings make,

The honeſt Readers euer will conceaue

The beſt intention's, and all others leaue:

Chiefly in that, where I fore-hand proteſt

My meaning euer was the honeſteſt,

And if I ſay ſo, what is he may know

So much as to affirme it was not ſo?

Sit other men ſo neare my thoughts to ſhow it,

Or is my heart ſo open that all know it?

Sure if it were, they would no ſuch things ſee,

As thoſe whereof ſome hauehave accuſed mee.

But I care leſſe how it be vnderſtood,

Becauſe the heauens know my intent was good.

And if it be ſo, that my too-free Rimes

Doe much diſpleaſe the world, and theſe bad times;

'Tis not my fault, for had I been imploy'd

In ſomething elſe, all this had now been voyd.

Or if the world would but hauehave granted me

Wealth, or Affaires, whereon to buſie me,

I now vnheard of, peraduenture than,

Had been as mute as ſome rich Clergie-man.

But they are much deceiu'd that thinke my minde

Will ere be ſtill, while it can doing find;

Or that vntounto the world ſo much it leanes,

As to be curtold for default of meanes.

No, though moſt be, all Spirits are not earth,

Nor ſuting with the fortunes of their birth,

My body's ſubiect vntounto many Powers:

But my ſoule's as free, as is the Emperours:

And though to curbe her in, I oft aſſay,

She'le breake int' action ſpite of durt and clay.

And is't not better then to take this courſe,

Then fall to ſtudy miſchiefes and doe worſe?

I ſay ſhe muſt hauehave action, and ſhe ſhall:

For if ſhe will, how can I doe withall?

And let thoſe that o're-buſie thinke me, know,

He made me, that knew, why he made me ſo.

And though there's ſome that ſay my thoughts doe flie

A pitch beyond my ſtates ſufficiency;

My humble minde, I giuegive my Sauiour thanke

Aſpires nought yet, aboue my fortunes ranke.

But ſay it did, wil't not befit a man

To raiſe his thoughts as neere Heau'n as he can?

Muſt the free ſpirit ty'd and curbed be

According to the bodies pouerty?

Or can it euer be ſo ſubiect to

Baſe Change, to riſe, and fall, as fortunes doe?

Men borne to noble meanes, and vulgar mindes

Enioy their wealth; and there's no Law that bindes

Such to abate their ſubſtance, though their Pates

Want Braines, and they worth, to poſſeſſe ſuch ſtates.

So God to ſome, doth onelyonly great mindes giuegive,

And little other meanes, whereon to liue.

What law or conſcience then ſhall make them ſmother

Their Spirit, which is their life, more then other

To bate their ſubſtance? ſince if 'twere confeſt,

That a braue minde could euer be ſuppreſt,

Were't reaſon any ſhould himſelfe depriue

Of what the whole world hath not power to giuegive?

For wealth is comon, and fooles get it to,

When to giuegive ſpirit's more then Kings can do.

I ſpeake not this, becauſe I thinke there be

More then the ordinareſt gifts in me;

But againſt thoſe, who thinke I doe preſume

On more then doth befit me to aſſume:

Or would hauehave all, whom Fortune barres from ſtore,

Make themſelues wretched, as ſhe makes them poore.

And' cauſe in other things ſhe is vnkind,

Smother the matchleſſe bleſſings of their minde:

Whereas (although her fauours doe forſake them)

Their minds are richer then the world can make them.

Why ſhould a good attempt diſgraced ſeeme,

Becauſe the perſon is of meane eſteeme?

Vertue's a chaſte Queene, and yet doth not ſcorne

To be embrac'd by him that's meaneſt borne,

Shee is the prop, that Maieſties ſupport,

Yet one whom Slaues as well as Kings may court.

She loueth all that beare affection to her,

And yeelds to any that hath heart to wooe her.

So Vice, how high ſo e're ſhe be in place,

Is that which Groomes may ſpit at in diſgrace:

She is a ſtrumpet, and may be abhorr'd,

Yea, ſpurn'd at in the boſome of a Lord.

Yet had I ſpoke her faire, I had beene free,

As many others of her Louers be.

If her eſcapes I had not chanc'd to tell,

I might hauehave beene a villaine, and done well:

Gotten ſome ſpeciall fauour, and not ſate

As now I doe, ſhut vp within a grate.

Or if I could hauehave hap't on ſome looſe ſtraine,

That might hauehave pleas'd the wanton Readers vaine:

Or but claw'd Pride, I now had been vnblam'd,

(Or elſe at leaſt there's ſome would not hauehave ſham'd

To plead my cauſe:) but ſee my fatall curſe,

Sure I was either mad, or ſomewhat worſe:

For I ſaw Vices followers brauely kept,

In Silkes they walkt, on beds of Downe they ſlept,

Richly they fed on dainties euermore,

They had their pleaſure, they had all things ſtore,

(Whil'ſt Vertue begg'd) yea, fauours had ſo many,

I knew they brook't not to be touch'd of any:

Yet could not I, like other men, be wiſe,

Nor learne (for all this) how to temporize;

But muſt (with too much honeſty made blind)

Vpbraid this loued darling of mankind:

Whereas I might hauehave better thriu'd by fayning:

Or if I could not chuſe, but be complaining,

More ſafe I might hauehave rail'd on Vertue ſure,

Becauſe her louers and her friends are fewer.

I might hauehave brought ſome other things to paſſe,

Made Fidlers Songs, or Ballads, like an Aſſe,

Or any thing almoſt indeed but this.

Yet ſince 'tis thus, l'me glad 'tis ſo amiſſe;

Becauſe if I am guilty of a crime,

'Tis that, wherein the beſt of eueryevery time,

Hath beene found faulty (if they faulty be)

That doe reproue Abuſe and villany.

For what I'me taxt, I can examples ſhow,

In ſuch old Authors as this State allow:

And I would faine once learne a reaſon why

They can hauehave kinder vſage here then I?

I muſe men doe not now in queſtion call

Seneca, Horace, Perſius, Inuenall,

And ſuch as they? Or why did not that Age

In which they liued, put them in a Cage?

If I ſhould ſay, that men were iuſter then,

I ſhould neere hand be made vnſay't agen:

And therefore ſure I thinke I were as good

Leaue it to others to be vnderſtood.

Yet I as well may ſpeake, as deeme amiſſe,

For ſuch this Ages curious cunning is,

I ſcarcely dare to let mine heart thinke ought,

For there be ſome will ſeeme to know my thought,

Who may out-face me that I thinke awry,

When there's no witneſſe, but my Conſcience by:

And then I likely am as ill to ſpeed,

As if I ſpake, or did amiſſe indeed.

Yet leſt thoſe who (perhaps) may malice this,

Interpret alſo theſe few lines amiſſe,

Let them that after thee, ſhall reade or heare,

From a raſh cenſure of my thoughts forbeare.

Let them not mold the ſenſe that this containes

According to the forming of their braines,

Or thinke I dare, or can, here taxe thoſe Peeres,

Whoſe Worths, their Honours, to my ſoule endeares,

(Thoſe by whoſe loued-fear'd Authority)

I am reſtrained of my liberty:

For leſt there yet may be a man ſo ill,

To haunt my lines with his blacke Coment ſtill,

(In hope my lucke againe may be ſo good,

To hauehave my words once rightly vnderſtood)

This I proteſt, that I doe not condemne

Ought as vniuſt, that hath been done by them;

For though my honeſt heart not guilty be

Of the leaſt thought, that may diſparage me;

Yet when ſuch men as I, ſhall hauehave ſuch foes,

Accuſe me of ſuch crimes, to ſuch as thoſe,

Till I had meanes my Innocence to ſhow,

Their Iuſtice could hauehave done no leſſe then ſo.

Nor hauehave I ſuch a proud conceited wit,

Or ſelfe-opinion of my knowledge yet,

To thinke it may not be that I hauehave run

VponUpon ſome Errors in what I hauehave done,

Worthy this puniſhment which I endure;

(I ſay I cannot ſo my ſelfe aſſure)

For 'tis no wonder if their Wiſedomes can

Diſcouer Imperfections in a man

So weake as I, (more then himſelfe doth ſee)

Since my ſight dull with inſufficiencie,

In men more graue, and wiſer farre then I,

Innumerable Errors doth eſpye,

Which they with all their knowledge I'le be bold,

Cannot (or will not) in themſelues behold.

But ere I will my ſelfe accuſe my Song,

Or keepe a Tongue ſhall doe my Heart that wrong,

To ſay I willingly in what I penn'd,

Did ought that might a Goodmans ſight offend;

Or with my knowledge did inſert one word,

That might diſparage a true Honour'd Lord;

Let it be in my mouth a helpeleſſe ſore,

And neuer ſpeake to be beleeued more.

Yet man irreſolute is, vnconſtant, weake,

And doth his purpoſe oft through frallty breake,

Leſt therefore I by force hereafter may

Be brought from this minde, and theſe words vnſay,

Here to the World I doe proclaime before,

If e're my reſolution be ſo poore,

T'is not the Right, but Might that makes me doe it;

Yea, nought but fearefull baſeueſſe brings me to it;

Which if I ſtill hate, as I now deteſt,

Neuer can come to harbor in my breſt.

Thus my fault then (if they a fault imply)

Is not alone an ill vnwillingly,

But alſo, might I know it, I entend,

Not onelyonly to acknowledge, but amend:

Hoping that thou wilt not be ſo ſeuere,

To puniſh me aboue all other here.

But for m'intents ſake, and my louelove to Truth,

Impute my Errors to the heate of Youth,

Or rather Ignorance; then to my Will,

Which ſure I am was good, what e're be ill,

And like to him now, in whoſe place thou art,

What e're the reſidue be, accept the Heart.

But I grow tedious, and my louelove abusd,

Diſturbs my thoughts, and makes my lines confus'd,

Yet pardon me, and daigne a gracious eye

On this my rude, vnfil'd Apologie.

Let not the bluntneſſe of my phraſe offend,

Weight but the matter, and not how 'tis penn'd,

By theſe abrupt lines in my iuſt defence,

Iudge what I might ſay for my innocence.

And thinke, I more could ſpeake, that here I ſpare,

Becauſe my power ſuites not to what I dare.

My vnaffected ſtile retaines (you ſee)

Her old Frize-Cloake of young Ruſticitiê:

If others will vſe neater tearmes, they may,

Ruder I am, yet louelove as well as they:

And (though if I would ſmooth't I cannot doo't)

My humbel heart I bend beneath thy foot:

While here my Muſe her diſcontent doth ſing

To thee her great Apollo, and my King:

Emploring thee by that high ſacred Name,

By Iuſtice, by thoſe Powers that I could name:

By whatſoe're may moue, entreate I thee,

To be what thou art vntounto all, to mee;

I feare it not, yet giuegive me leaue to pray,

I may hauehave foes, whoſe power doth beare ſuch ſway;

If they but ſay I'me guilty of offence,

'Twere vaine for me to pleade my innocence.

But as the Name of God thou bear'ſt, I truſt

Thou imitat'ſt him to, in being iuſt:

That when the right of Truth thou comm'ſt to ſcan,

Thoul't not reſpect the perſon of the man:

For if thou doe, then is my hope vndone;

The head-long-way to ruine I muſt runne.

For whil'ſt that they hauehave all the helpes which may

Procure their pleaſure with my ſoone decay:

How is it like that I my peace can win me,

When all the ayde I hauehave, comes from within me?

Therefore (good King) that makſt thy bounty ſhine

Sometime on thoſe whoſe worths are ſmall as mine;

Oh ſaue me now from Enuies dangerous ſhelfe,

Or make me able, and I'le ſaue my ſelfe.

Let not the want of that make me a ſcorne,

To which there are more Fooles then Wiſe-men borne.

Let me not for my Meanneſſe be diſpiſ'd,

Nor others greatneſſe make their words more priz'd,

For whatſoe're my outward Fate appeares,

My Soule's as good, my Heart as great as theirs.

My louelove vntounto my Country and to thee,

As much as his that more would ſeeme to be.

And would this Age allow but meanes to ſhow it,

Thoſe that miſdoubt it, ſhould ere long time know it.

Pitty my youth then, and let me not lie

Waſting my time in fruitleſſe miſerie.

Though I am meane, I may be borne vntounto

That ſeruice, which another cannot doe.

In vaine the little Mouſe the Lyon ſpar'd not,

She did him pleaſure, when a greater dar'd not.

If ought that I hauehave done, doe thee diſpleaſe,

Thy miſconceiued wrath I will appeaſe,

Or ſacrifice my heart; but why ſhould I

Suffer for God knowes whom, I know not why?

If that my words through ſome miſtake offends,

Let them conceiue them right and make amends.

Or were I guilty of offence indeed,

One fault (they ſay) doth but one pardon need:

Yet one I had, and now I want one more;

For once I ſtood accus'd for this before.

As I remember I ſo long agon,

Sung Thame, and Rhynes Epithalamion:

When SHE that from thy Royall ſelfe deriues

Thoſe gracious vertues that beſt Title giues:

She that makes Rhine proud of her excellence,

And me oft minde her reuerence;

Daign'd in her great good-nature to encline

Her gentle care to ſuch a cauſe as mine;

And which is more, vouchſaf'd her word, to cleare

Me from all dangers (if there any were,)

So that I doe not now intreate, or ſue

For any great boone, or requeſt that's new:

But onelyonly this (though abſent from the Land)

Her former fauour ſtill in force might ſtand:

And that her word (who preſent was ſo deere)

Might be as powerfull, as when ſhe was here.

Which if I finde, and with thy fauour may

HaueHave leaue to ſhake my loathed bands away,

(As I doe hope I ſhall) and be ſet free

From all the troubles, this hath brought on me,

Ple make her Name giuegive life vntounto a Song,

Whoſe neuer-dying note ſhall laſt as long

As there is either Riuer, Groue or Spring,

Or Downe for Sheepe, or Shepheards Lad to ſing.

Yea, I will teach my Muſe to touch a ſtraine,

That was ne're reach't to yet by any Swaine.

For though that many deeme my yeeres vnripe,

Yet I hauehave learn'd to tune an Oaten Pipe,

Whereon I'le try what muſicke I can make me,

(Vntill Bellona with her Trumpe awake me.)

And ſince the world will not hauehave Vice thus ſhowne,

By blazing Vertue I will make it knowne.

Then if the Court will not my lines approue

I'le goe vntounto ſome Mountaine, or thicke Groue:

There to my fellow Shepheards will I ſing,

Tuning my Reede vntounto ſome dancing Spring,

In ſuch a note, that none ſhould dare to trouble it,

Till the Hils anſwere, and the Woods redouble it.

And peraduenture I may then goe neare

To ſpeake of ſomething thoul't be pleas'd to heare:

And that which thoſe who now my tunes abhorre,

Shall reade, and like, and daigne to louelove me for:

But the meane while, oh paſſe not this ſuite by,

Let thy free hand ſigne me my liberty:

And if my louelove may moue thee more to do,

Good King conſider this my trouble to.

Others hauehave found thy fauour in diſtreſſe,

Whoſe louelove to thee and thine I thinke was leſſe.

And I might fitter for thy ſeruice liue

On what would not be much for thee to giuegive.

And yet I aske it not for that I feare

The outward meanes of life ſhould faile me here:

For though I want to compaſſe thoſe good ends

Iaime at for my Countrie and my Friends,

In this poore ſtate I can as well content me,

As if that I had Wealth and Honours lent me,

Nor for my owne ſake doe I ſeeke to ſhunne

This thraldome, wherein now I ſeeme vndone:

For though I prize my Freedome more then Gold,

And vſe the meanes to free my ſelfe from hold,

Yet with a minde (I hope) vnchang'd and free,

Here can I liue, and play with miſerie:

Yea, in deſpight of want and ſlauerie,

Laugh at the world in all her brauerie.

Here hauehave I learn'd to make my greateſt Wrongs

Matter of Mirth, and ſubiects but for Songs:

Here can I ſmile to ſee my ſelfe neglected,

And how the meane mans ſuite is diſ-reſpected;

Whil'ſt thoſe that are more rich, and better friended,

Can hauehave twice greater faults thrice ſooner ended.

All this, yea more, I ſee and ſuffer to,

Yet liue content midſt diſcontents I do.

Which whil'ſt I can, it is all one to me,

Whether in Priſon or abroad it be.

For ſhould I ſtill lye here diſtreſt and poore,

It ſhall not make me breathe a ſigh the more;

Since to my ſelfe it is indifferent,

Where the ſmall remnant of my daies be ſpent,

But for Thy ſake, my Countries, and my Friends,

For whom, more then my ſelfe, God this life lends,

I would not, could I helpe it, be a ſcorne,

But (if I might) liue free, as I was borne:

Or rather for my Miſtris vertues ſake,

Faire Vertue, of whom moſt account I make,

If I can chuſe, I will not be debas'd

In this laſt action, leſt She be diſgrac'd:

For 'twas the louelove of her that brought me to,

What Spleene nor Enuie could not make me do.

And if her ſeruants be no more regarded;

If enemies of Vice be thus rewarded,

And I ſhould alſo Vertues wrongs conceale,

And if none liu'd to whom ſhe dar'd appeale:

Will they that doe not yet her worth approue,

Be euer drawne to entertaine her louelove,

When they ſhall ſee him plagu'd as an Offender,

Who for the louelove he beares her, doth commend her?

This may to others more offenſiue be,

Then preiudiciall any way to me:

For who will his endeauours euer bend

To follow her, whom there is none will friend?

Some I doe hope there be that nothing may

From louelove of Truth and Honeſty diſmay.

But who will (that ſhall ſee my euill Fortune)

The remedy of Times Abuſe importune?

Who will againe, when they hauehave ſmother'd me,

Dare to oppoſe the face of Villany?

Whereas he muſt be faine to vndertake

A Combat with a ſecond Lernean Snake;

Whoſe euer-growing heads when as he crops,

Not onelyonly two ſprings, for each one he lops,

But alſo he ſhall ſee in midſt of dangers,

Thoſe he thought friends turne foes, at leaſt-wiſe ſtranger:

More I could ſpeake, but ſure if this doe faile me,

I neuer ſhall doe ought that will auaile me;

Nor care to ſpeake againe, vnleſſe it be

To him that knowes how heart and tongue agree;

No, nor to liue, when none dares vndertake

To ſpeake one word for honeſt Vertues ſake.

But let his will be done, that beſt knowes what

Will be my future good, and what will not.

Hap well or ill, my ſpotleſſe meaning's faire,

And for thee, this ſhall euer be my prayer,

That thou maiſt here enioy a long-bleſt Raigne,

And dying, be in Heauen re-crown'd againe.

SO now, if thou haſt daign'd my Lines to heare,

There's nothing can befall me that I feare:

For if thou haſt compaſſion on my trouble,

The Ioy I ſhall receiue will be made double;

And if I fall, it may ſome Glory be,

That none but IOVE himſelfe did ruine me.

Your Maieſties moſt loyall Subiect, and yet Priſoner in the Marſhalſey, GEORGE WITHER.

Epithalamia: OR NVPTIALL POEMS VPONUPON THE MOST BLESSED AND HAPPY MARRIAGE betweene the High and Mighty Prince Frederick the fifth, Count Palatine of the Rhine, Duke of Bauier, &c. AND THE MOST VERTVOVS, Gracious, and thrice Excellent Princeſſe, Elizabeth, Sole Daughter to our dread Soueraigne, Iames, by the grace of God King of Great Britaine, France and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, &c. Celebrated at White-Hall the fourteenth of February. 1612.

Written by George Wither.

LONDON, Printed by T. S. for Iohn Budge, dwelling in Pauls-Church-yard, at the ſigne of the Greene Dragon, 1622.

TO THE ALL-VERTVOVS AND THRICE EXCELLENT PRINCESSE Elizabeth, ſole daughter to our dread Soueraigne, Iames by the grace of God, King of Great Britaine, France and Ireland, &c. AND WIFE TO THE HIGH AND MIGHTY PRINCE, FREDERICK the fifth, Count Palatine of the Rheine, Duke of Bauier, &c. Elector, and Arch-ſ…w er to the ſacred Roman Empire, during the vacancy Vicar of the ſame, and Knight of the moſt honorable Order of the Garter.

George Wither wiſheth all the Health; Ioyes, Honours, and Felicities of this World, in this life, and the perfections of eternity in the World to come.

To the Chriſtian Readers.

REaders; for that in my booke of Satyricall Eſſayes, I hauehave been deemed ouer Cynicall; to ſhew, that I am not wholly inclined to that Vaine: But indeede eſpecially, out of the louelove which in duty I owe to thoſe incomparable Princes, I hauehave in honour of their Royall Solemnities, publiſhed theſe ſhort Epithalamiaes. By which you may perceiue (how euer the world thinke of me) I am not of ſuch a Churliſh Conſtitution, but I can afford Vertue her deſerued honour; and hauehave as well an affable looke to encourage Honeſty; as a ſterne frowne to cast on Villanie: If the Times would ſuffer me, I could be as pleaſing as others; and perhaps ere long I will make you amends for my former rigor; Meane while I commit this vntounto your cenſures; and bid you farewell.

G. W.