The Tenth Muse Lately Sprung Up in America, Part 3
The Four Ages of Man.
LOe now! four other acts upon the ſtage,
Childhood, and Youth, the Manly, and Old-age.
The firſt: ſon unto Flegme, grand-child to water,
Unſtable, ſupple, moiſt, and cold's his Naure.
The ſecond, frolick, claimes his pedigree,
From blood and aire, for hot, and moiſt is he.
The third, of fire, and choler is compoſ'd,
Vindicative, and quarelſome diſpoſ'd.
The laſt, of earth, and heavy melancholly,
Solid, hating all lightneſſe, and al folly.
Childhood was cloath'd in white, and given to ſhow,
His ſpring was intermixed with ſome ſnow.
Upon his head a Garland Nature ſet:
Of Dazy, Primroſe, and the Violet.
Such cold mean flowers (as theſe) bloſſome betime,
Before the Sun hath throughly warm'd the clime.
His hobby ſtriding, did not ride, but run,
And in his hand an hour-glaſſe new begun,
In dangers every moment of a fall,
And when tis broke, then ends his life and all.
But if he hold, til it have run its laſt,
Then may he live, til threeſcore years or paſt.
Next, youth came up, in gorgeous attire;
(As that fond age, doth moſt of al deſire.)
His Suit of Crimſon, and his Scarfe of Green:
In's countenance, his pride quickly was ſeen.
Garland of Roſes, Pinks, and Gilliflowers,
Seemed to grow on's head (bedew'd with ſhowers:)
His face as freſh, as is Aurora faire,
When bluſhing firſt, ſhe 'gins to red the Aire.
No wooden horſe, but one of mettal try'd:
He ſeems to flye, or ſwim, and not to ride.
Then prauncing on the Stage, about he wheels;
But as he went, death waited at his heeles.
The next came up, in a more graver ſort,
As one that cared, for a good report.
His Sword by's ſide, and choler in his eyes;
But neither us'd (as yet) for he was wiſe.
Of Autumne fruits a basket on his arme.
His golden god in's purſe, which was his charm,
And laſt of al, to act upon this Stage;
Leaning upon his ſtaffe, comes up old age.
Under his arme a Sheafe of wheat he bore,
A Harveſt of the beſt, what needs he more.
In's other hand a glaſſe, ev'n almoſt run,
This writ about: This out, then I am done.
His hoary haires, and grave aſpect made way;
And al gave eare, to what he had to ſay.
Theſe being met, each in his equipage,
Intend to ſpeak, according to their age:
But wiſe Old-age, did with all gravity,
To childiſh childhood, give precedency.
And to the reſt, his reaſon mildly told;
That he was young, before he grew ſo old.
To do as he, the reſt ful ſoon aſſents,
Their method was, that of the Elements,
That each ſhould tel, what of himſelfe he knew;
Both good and bad, but yet no more then's true.
With heed now ſtood, three ages of fraile man;
To hear the child, who crying, thus began.
Childhood.
AH me! conceiv'd in ſin, and born in ſorrow,
A nothing, here to day, but gone to morrow.
Whoſe mean beginning, bluſhing cann't reveale,
But night and darkeneſſe, muſt with ſhame conceal.
My mothers breeding ſicknes, I will ſpare;
Her nine months weary burden not declare.
To ſhew her bearing pangs, I ſhould do wrong,
To tel that paine, which cann't be told by tongue;
With tears into this world I did arrive;
My mother ſtil did waſte, as I did thrive:
Who yet with love, and all alacrity,
Spending was willing, to be ſpent for me;
With wayward cryes, I did diſturbe her reſt;
Who ſought ſtil to appeaſe me, with her breſt,
With weary armes, ſhe danc'd, and By, By, ſung,
When wretched I (ungrate) had done the wrong.
When Infancy was paſt, my Childiſhneſſe,
Did act al folly, that it could expreſſe.
My ſillineſſe did only take delight,
In that which riper age did ſcorn, and ſlight:
In Rattles, Bables, and ſuch toyiſh ſtuffe.
My then ambitious thoughts, were low enough.
My high-borne ſoule, ſo ſtraitly was confin'd:
That its own worth, it did not know, nor mind.
This little houſe of fleſh, did ſpacious count:
Through ignorance, all troubles did ſurmount.
Yet this advantage, had mine ignorance,
Freedome from Envy, and from Arrogance,
How to be rich, or great, I did not carke;
A Baron or a Duke, ne'r made my mark.
Nor ſtudious was, Kings favours how to buy,
With coſtly preſents, or baſe flattery.
No office coveted, wherein I might
Make ſtrong my ſelfe, and turne aſide weak right.
No malice bare, to this, or that great Peer,
Nor unto buzzing whiſperors, gave ear.
I gave no hand, nor vote, for death, or life:
I'd nought to do, 'twixt Prince, and peoples ſtrife.
No Statiſt I: nor Marti'liſt i' th' field;
Where e're I went, mine innocence was ſhield.
My quarrells, not for Diadems did riſe;
But for an Apple, Plumbe, or ſome ſuch prize,
My ſtroks did cauſe no death, nor wounds, nor skars.
My little wrath did ceaſe ſoon as my wars.
My duel was no challenge, nor did ſeek.
My foe ſhould weltering, with his bowels reek.
I had no Suits at law, neighbours to vex.
Nor evidence for land, did me perplex.
I fear'd no ſtormes, nor al the windes that blows,
I had no ſhips at Sea, no fraughts to looſe.
I fear'd no drought, nor wet, I had no crop,
Nor yet on future things did place my hope.
This was mine innocence, but oh the ſeeds,
Lay raked up; of all the curſed weeds,
Which ſprouted forth, in my inſuing age,
As he can tell, that next comes on the ſtage.
But yet let me relate, before I go,
The ſins, and dangers I am ſubject to.
From birth ſtayned, with Adams ſinfull fact;
From thence I 'gan to ſin, as ſoon as act.
A perverſe will, a love to what's forbid:
A ſerpents ſling in pleaſing face lay hid.
A lying tongue as ſoon as it could ſpeak,
And fift Commandement do daily break.
Oft ſtubborn, peeviſh, ſullen, pout, and cry:
Then nought can pleaſe, and yet I know not why.
As many was my ſins, ſo dangers too:
For ſin brings ſorrow, ſickneſſe, death, and woe.
And though I miſſe, the toſſings of the mind:
Yet griefs, in my fraile fleſh, I ſtill do find.
What gripes of wind, mine infancy did pain?
What tortures I, in breeding teeth ſuſtain?
What crudities my cold ſtomach hath bred?
Whence vomits, wormes, and flux have iſſued?
What breaches, knocks, and falls I daily have?
And ſome perhaps, I carry to my grave.
Some times in fire, ſometimes in waters fall:
Strangely preſerv'd, yet mind it not at all.
At home, abroad, my danger's manifold.
That wonder tis, my glaſſe till now doth hold.
I've done, unto my elders I give way.
For 'tis but little, that a childe can ſay.
Youth.
MY goodly cloathing, and my beauteous skin,
Declare ſome greater riches are within;
But what is beſt i'le firſt preſent to view,
And then the worſt, in a more ugly hue;
For thus to do, we on this Stage aſſemble,
Then let not him, which hath moſt craft diſſemble;
Mine education, and my learning's ſuch,
As might my ſelf, and others, profit much:
With nurture trained up in vertues Schools,
Of Science, Arts, and Tongues, I know the rules,
The manners of the Court, I likewiſe know,
Nor ignorant what they in Country do;
The brave attempts of valiant Knights I prize,
That dare climbe Battlements, rear'd to the skies;
The ſnorting Horſe, the Trumpet, Drum I like,
The gliſtring Sword, and wel advanced Pike;
I cannot lye in trench, before a Town,
Nor wait til good advice our hopes do crown;
I ſcorn the heavy Corſſet, Musket-proof,
I fly to catch the Bullet that's aloof;
Though thus in field, at home, to all moſt kind,
So affable that I do ſuit each mind;
I can inſinuate into the breſt,
And by my mirth can raiſe the heart depreſt…
Sweet Mufick rapteth my harmonious Soul,
And elevates my thoughts above the Pole.
My wit, my bounty, and my courteſie,
Makes all to place their future hopes on me.
This is my beſt, but youth (is known) alas,
To be as wilde as is the ſnuffing Aſſe,
As vain as froth, as vanity can be,
That who would ſee vain man, may look on me:
My gifts abus'd, my education loſt,
My woful Parents longing hopes all croſt,
My wit, evaporates in meriment:
My valour, in ſome beaſtly quarrel's ſpent;
Martial deeds I love not, 'cauſe they're vertuous,
But doing ſo, might ſeem magnanimous.
My Luſt doth hurry me, to all that's ill,
I know no Law, nor reaſon, but my wil;
Sometimes lay wait to take a wealthy purſe,
Or ſtab the man, in's own defence, that's worſe,
Sometimes I cheat (unkind) a female Heir,
Of all at once, who not ſo wiſe, as fair,
Truſteth my loving looks, and glozing tongue,
Until her freinds, treaſure, and honour's gone.
Sometimes I ſit carouſing others health,
Until mine own be gone, my wit, and wealth;
From pipe to pot, from pot to words, and blows,
For he that loveth Wine, wanteth no woes;
Dayes, nights, with Ruffins, Roarers, Fidlers ſpend;
To all obſcenity, my eares I bend.
All counſel hate, which tends to make me wiſe,
And deareſt freinds count for mine enemies;
If any care I take, 'tis to be fine,
For ſure my ſuit more then my vertues ſhine;
If any time from company I ſpare,
'Tis ſpent in curling, friſling up my hair;
Some young Adonis I do ſtrive to be,
Sardana Pallas, now ſurvives in me:
Cards, Dice, and Oaths, concomitant, I love;
To Maſques, to Playes, to Taverns ſtil I move;
And in a word, if what I am you'd heare,
Seek out a Brittiſh, bruitiſh Cavaleer;
Such wretch, ſuch monſter am I; but yet more,
I want a heart all this for to deplore.
Thus, thus alas! I have miſpent my time,
My youth, my beſt, my ſtrength, my bud, and prime:
Remembring not the dreadful day of Doom,
Nor yet that heavy reckoning for to come;
Though dangers do attend me every houre,
And gaſtly death oft threats me with her power,
Sometimes by wounds in idle combates taken,
Sometimes by Agues all my body ſhaken;
Sometimes by Feavers, all my moiſture drinking,
My heart lyes frying, and my eyes are ſinking;
Sometimes the Cough, Stitch, painful Plurifie,
With ſad affrights of death, doth menace me;
Sometimes the loathſome Pox, my face be-mars,
With ugly marks of his eternal ſcars;
Sometimes the Phrenſie, ſtrangely madds my Brain,
That oft for it, in Bealam I remain.
Too many's my Diſeaſes to recite,
That wonder 'tis I yet behold the light,
That yet my bed in darkneſſe is not made,
And I in black oblivions den long laid;
Of Marrow ful my bones, of Milk my breaſts,
Ceas'd by the gripes of Serjeant Death's Arreſts:
Thus I have ſaid, and what i've ſaid you ſee,
Child-hood and youth is vaine, yea vanity.
Middle Age.
CHildehood and youth, forgot, ſometimes I've ſeen,
And now am grown more ſtaid, that have beengreen,
What they have done, the ſame was done by me,
As was their praiſe, or ſhame, ſo mine muſt be.
Now age is more, more good ye do expect;
But more my age, the more is my defect.
But what's of worth, your eyes ſhal firſt behold,
And then a world of droſſe among my gold.
When my Wilde Oates, were ſown, and ripe, & mown,
I then receiv'd a harveſt of mine owne.
My reaſon, then bad judge, how little hope,
Such empty ſeed ſhould yeeld a better crop.
I then with both hands, graſpt the world together,
Thus out of one extreame, into another.
But yet laid hold, on vertue ſeemingly,
Who climbes without hold, climbes dangerouſly.
Be my condition mean, I then take paines;
My family to keep, but not for gaines.
If rich, I'm urged then to gather more.
To bear me out i'th' world, and feed the poor,
If a father, then for children muſt provide:
But if none, then for kindred near ally'd.
If Noble, then mine honour to maintaine.
If not, yet wealth, Nobility can gain.
For time, for place, likewiſe for each relation,
I wanted not my ready allegation.
Yet all my powers, for ſelf-ends are not ſpent,
For hundreds bleſſe me, for my bounty ſent.
Whoſe loynes I've cloth'd, and bellies I have fed;
With mine owne fleece, and with my houſhold bread.
Yea juſtice I have done, was I in place;
To chear the good, and wicked to deface.
The proud I cruſh'd, th' oppreſſed I ſet free,
The lyars curb'd but nouriſht verity.
Was I a paſtor, I my flock did feed:
And gently lead the lambes, as they had need,
A Captain I, with skil I train'd my band;
And ſhew'd them how, in face of foes to ſtand.
If a Souldier, with ſpeed I did obey,
As readily as could my Leader ſay:
Was I a laborer, I wrought all day,
As chearfully as ere I took my pay.
Thus hath mine age (in all) ſometimes done wel.
Sometimes mine age (in all) been worſe then hell.
In meanneſſe, greatneſſe, riches, poverty;
Did toile, did broile; oppreſſ'd, did ſteal and lye.
Was I as poor, as poverty could be,
Then baſeneſſe was companion unto me.
Such ſcum, as Hedges, and High-wayes do yeeld,
As neither ſow, nor reape, nor plant, nor build.
If to Agricolture, I was ordain'd.
Great labours, ſorrows, croſſes I ſuſtain'd
The early Cock, did ſummon but in vaine,
My wakefull thoughts, up to my painefull gaine.
For reſtleſſe day and night, I'm rob'd of ſteep,
By can kered care, who centinel doth keep.
My weary beaſt, reſt from his toile can find;
But if I reſt, the more diſtreſt my mind.
If happineſſe my ſordidneſſe hath found,
'Twas in the crop of my manured ground:
My fatted Oxe, and my exuberous Cow,
My fleeced Ewe, and ever farr owing Sow.
To greater things, I never did aſpire,
My dunghil thoughts, or hopes, could reach no higher.
If to be rich, or great, it was my fate;
How was I broyl'd with envy, and with hate?
Greater, then was the great'ſt, was my deſire,
And greater ſtil, did ſet my heart on fire.
If honour was the point, to which I ſteer'd;
To run my hull upon diſgrace I fear'd.
But by ambitious ſailes, I was ſo carryed;
That over flats, and ſands, and rocks I hurried,
Oppreſt, and ſunke, and ſact, all in my way;
That did oppoſe me, to my longed bay:
My thirſt was higher, then Nobility.
And oft long'd ſore, to taſte on Royalty.
Whence poyſon, Piſtols, and dread inſtruments,
Have been curſt furtherers of mine intents.
Nor Brothers, Nephewes, Sons, nor Sires I've ſpar'd.
When to a Monarchy, my way they barr'd.
There ſet, I rid my ſelfe ſtraight out of hand.
Of ſuch as might my ſon, or his withſtand.
Then heapt up gold, and riches as the clay;
Which others ſcatter, like the dew in May.
Sometimes vaine-glory is the only bait,
Whereby my empty ſoule, is lur'd and caught.
Be I of worth, of learning, or of parts;
I judge, I ſhould have room, in all mens hearts.
And envy gnawes, if any do ſurmount.
I hate for to be had, in ſmall account.
If Bias like, I'm ſtript unto my skin,
I glory in my wealth, I have within.
Thus good, and bad, and what I am, you ſee,
Now in a word, what my diſeaſes be.
The vexing Stone, in bladder and in reines,
Torments me with intollerable paines;
The windy Cholick oft my bowels rend,
To break the darkſome priſon, where it's pend;
The knotty Gout doth ſadly torture me,
And the reſtraining lame Sciatica;
The Quinſie, and the Feavours, oft diſtaſte me,
And the Conſumption, to the bones doth waſt me;
Subject to all Diſeaſes, that's the truth,
Though ſome more incident to age, or youth:
And to conclude, I may not tedious be,
Man at his beſt eſtate is vanity.
Old Age.
WHat you have been, ev'n ſuch have I before,
And all you ſay, ſay I, and ſomething more;
Babes innocence, Youths wildnes I have ſeen.
And in perplexed Middle-age have bin,
Sickneſſe, dangers, and anxieties have paſt,
And on this Stage am come to act my laſt:
I have bin young, and ſtrong, and wiſe as you,
But now, Bis pueri ſenes, is too true;
In every Age i've found much vanitie,
An end of all perfection now I ſee.
It's not my valour, honour, nor my gold,
My ruin'd houſe, now falling can uphold;
It's not my Learning, Rhetorick, wit ſo large,
Now hath the power, Deaths Warfare, to diſcharge;
It's not my goodly houſe, nor bed of down,
That can refreſh, or eaſe, if Conſcience frown;
Nor from alliance now can I have hope,
But what I have done wel, that is my prop;
He that in youth is godly, wiſe, and ſage,
Provides a ſtaffe for to ſupport his age.
Great mutations, ſome joyful, and ſome ſad,
In this ſhort Pilgrimage I oft have had;
Sometimes the Heavens with plenty ſmil'd on me,
Sometimes again, rain'd all adverſity;
Sometimes in honour, ſometimes in diſgrace,
Sometime an abject, then again in place,
Such private changes oft mine eyes have ſeen,
In various times of ſtate i've alſo been.
I've ſeen a Kingdom flouriſh like a tree,
When it was rul'd by that Celeſtial ſhe;
And like a Cedar, others ſo ſurmount,
That but for ſhrubs they did themſelves account;
Then ſaw I France, and Holland ſav'd, Cales won,
And Philip, and Albertus, half undone;
I ſaw all peace at home, terror to foes,
But ah, I ſaw at laſt thoſe eyes to cloſe:
And then, me thought, the world at noon grew dark,
When it had loſt that radiant Sun-like ſpark,
In midſt of greifs, I ſaw ſome hopes revive,
(For 'twas our hopes then kept our hearts alive)
I ſaw hopes daſht, our forwardneſſe was ſhent,
And ſilenc'd we, by Act of Parliament.
I've ſeen from Rome, an execra…le thing,
A plot to blow up Nobles, and their King;
I've ſeen deſignes at Ree, and Cades croſt,
And poor Palatinate for ever loſt;
I've ſeen a Prince, to live on others lands,
A Royall one, by almes from Subjects hands,
I've ſeen baſe men, advanc'd to great degree,
And worthy ones, put to extremity:
But not their Princes love, nor ſtate ſo high;
could once reverſe, their ſhamefull deſtiny.
I've ſeen one ſtab'd, another looſe his head;
And others fly their Country, through their dread.
I've ſeen, and ſo have ye, for 'tis but late,
The deſolation, of a goodly State.
Plotted and acted, ſo that none can tell,
Who gave the counſel, but the Prince of hell.
I've ſeen a land unmoulded with great paine.
But yet may live, to ſee't made up again:
I've ſeen it ſhaken, rent, and ſoak'd in blood,
But out of troubles, ye may ſee much good,
Theſe are no old wives tales, but this is truth;
We old men love to tell, what's done in youth.
But I returne, from whence I ſtept awry,
My memory is ſhort, and braine is dry.
My Almond-tree (gray haires) doth flouriſh now,
And back, once ſtraight, begins apace to bow.
My grinders now are few, my ſight doth faile
My skin is wrinkled, and my cheeks are pale.
No more rejoyce, at muſickes pleaſant noyſe,
But do awake, at the cocks clanging voyce.
I cannot ſcent, ſavours of pleaſant meat,
Nor ſapors find, in what I drink or eat.
My hands and armes, once ſtrong have loſt their might,
I cannot labour, nor I cannot fight:
My comely legs, as nimble as the Roe,
Now ſtiffe and numb, can hardly creep or go.
My heart ſometimes as fierce, as Lion bold,
Now trembling, and fearful, ſad, and cold;
My golden Bowl, and ſilver Cord, e're long,
Shal both be broke, by wracking death ſo ſtrong;
I then ſhal go, whence I ſhal come no more,
Sons, Nephews, leave, my death for to deplore;
In pleaſures, and in labours, I have found.
That earth can give no conſolation ſound.
To great, to rich, to poore, to young, or old,
To mean, to noble, fearful, or to bold:
From King to begger, all degrees ſhal finde
But vanity, vexation of the minde;
Yea knowing much, the pleaſant'ſt life of all,
Hath yet amongſt that ſweet, ſome bitter gall.
Though reading others Works, doth much refreſh,
Yet ſtudying much, brings wearineſſe to th' fleſh;
My ſtudies, labours, readings, all are done,
And my laſt period now e'n almoſt run;
Corruption. my Father, I do call,
Mother, and ſiſters both; the worms, that crawl,
In my dark houſe, ſuch kindred I have ſtore,
There, I ſhal reſt, til heavens ſhal be no more;
And when this fleſh ſhal rot, and be conſum'd,
This body, by this ſoul, ſhal be aſſum'd;
And I ſhal ſee, with theſe ſame very eyes,
My ſtrong Redeemer, comming in the skies;
Triumph I ſhal, o're Sin, o're Death, o're Hel,
And in that hope, I bid you all farewel.