And like a rude, vnlearn’d Plebeian,
Without him seekes his whole insulting man.
Nor can endure, as a most deare prospect,
To looke into his own life, and reflect
Reason vpon it, like a Sunne still shining,
To giue it comfort, ripening, and refining:
But his blacke soule, being so deformd with sinne,
He still abhorres; with all things hid within:
And forth he wanders, with the outward fashion,
Feeding, and fatting vp his reprobation.
Disorderly he sets foorth euerie deed,
Good neuer doing, but where is no need.
If any ill he does, (and hunts through blood,
For shame, ruth, right, religion) be withstood,
The markt withstander, his race, kin, least friend,
That neuer did, in least degree offend,
He prosecutes, with hir’d intelligence
To fate, defying God and conscience,
And to the vtmost mite, he rauisheth
All they can yeeld him, rackt past life and death.
In all his acts, he this doth vérifié,
The greater man, the lesse humanitie.
While Phebus runs his course through all the signes,
He neuer studies; but he vndermines,
Blowes vp, and ruines, with pretext to saue:
Plots treason, and lies hid in th’actors graue.
Vast crannies gaspe in him, as wide as hell,
And angles, gibbet-like, about him swell:
Yet seemes he smooth and polisht, but no more
Solide within, then is a Medlars core.
The kings frown fels him, like a gun-strooke fowle:
When downe he lies, and casts the calfe his soule.
He neuer sleepes but being tir’d with lust:
Examines what past, not enough vniust;
Not bringing wealth enough, not state, not grace:
Not shewing miserie bedrid in his face:
Not skorning vertue, not deprauing her,
Whose ruth so flies him, that her Bane’s his cheare.
In short, exploring all that passe his guards,
Each good he plagues, and euerie ill rewards.
A sleight man.
A sleight, and mixt man (set as twere the meane
Twixt both the first) from both their heapes doth gleane:
Is neither good, wise, great, nor politick,
Yet tastes of all these with a naturall tricke.
Nature and Art, sometimes meet in his parts:
Sometimes deuided are: the austere arts,
Splint him together, set him in a brake
Of forme and reading. Nor is let partake
With iudgement, wit, or sweetnesse: but as time,
Terms, language, and degrees, haue let him clime,
To learn’d opinion; so he there doth stand,
Starke as a statue; stirres nor foote nor hand.
Nor any truth knowes: knowledge is a meane
To make him ignorant, and rapts him cleane,
In stormes from truth. For what Hippocrates
Says of foule bodies (what most nourishes,
That most annoies them) is more true of mindes:
For there, their first inherent prauitie blinds
Their powres preiudicate: and all things true
Proposd to them, corrupts, and doth eschue:
Some, as too full of toyle; of preiudice some:
Some fruitlesse, or past powre to ouercome:
With which, it so augments, that he will seeme
Withiudgement, what he should hold, to contemne
And is incurable. And this is he
Whose learning formes not lifes integritie.
This the mere Artist; the mixt naturalist,
With foole-quicke memorie, makes his hand a fist,
And catcheth Flies, and Nifles: and retaines
With heartie studie, and vnthriftie paines,
What your composd man shuns. With these his pen
And prompt tongue tickles th’eares of vulgar men:
Sometimes takes matter too, and vtters it
With an admir’d and heauenly straine of wit:
Yet with all this, hath humors more then can
Be thrust into a foole, or to a woman.
As nature made him, reason came by chance,
Held her torch to him, cast him in a trance;
And makes him vtter things that (being awake
In life and manners) he doth quite forsake.
He will be graue, and yet is light as aire;
He will be proude, yet poore euen to despaire.
Neuer sat Truth in a tribunall fit,
But in a modest, staid, and humble wit.
I rather wish to be a naturall bred,
Then these great wits with madnesse leauened.
He’s bold, and frontlesse, passionate, and mad,
Drunken, adulterous, good at all things bad.
Yet for one good, he quotes the best in pride,
And is enstil’d a man well qualifide.
These delicate shadowes of things vertuous then
Cast on these vitious, pleasing, patcht vp men,
Are but the diuels cousenages to blind
Mens sensuall eyes, and choke the enuied mind.
And where the truly learnd is euermore
Gods simple Image, and true imitator:
These sophisters are emulators still
(Cousening, ambitious) of men true in skill.
Their imperfections yet are hid in sleight,
Of the felt darknesse, breath’d out by deceipt,
The truly learn’d, is likewise hid, and fades
To pierce eyes vulgar, but with other vailes.
And they are the diuine beames, truth casts round
About his beauties, that do quite confound
Sensuall beholders. Scuse these rare seene then,
And take more heede of common sleighted men.
A good woman.
A woman good, and faire (which no dame can
Esteeme much easier found then a good man)
Sets not her selfe to shew, nor found would be:
Rather her vertues flie abroad then she.
Dreames not on fashions, loues no gossips feasts,
Affects no newes, no tales, no guests, no ieasts:
Her worke, and reading writs of worthiest men:
Her husbands pleasure, well taught childeren:
Her housholds fit prouision to see spent,
As fits her husbands will, and his consent:
Spends pleasingly her time, delighting still,
To her iust dutie, to adapt her will.
Vertue she loues, rewards and honors it,
And hates all scoffing, bold and idle wit:
Pious and wise she is, and treads vpon
This foolish and this false opinion,
That learning fits not women; since it may
Her naturall cunning helpe, and make more way
To light, and close affects: for so it can
Courbe and compose them too, as in a man:
And, being noble, is the noblest meane,
To spend her time: thoughts idle and vncleane,
Preuenting and suppressing: to which end
She entertaines it: and doth more commend
Time spent in that, then houswiferies low kindes,
As short of that, as bodies are of minds.
If it may hurt, is powre of good lesse great,
Since food may lust excite, shall she not eate?
She is not Moon-like, that the Sunne, her spouse
Being furthest off, is cleare and glorious:
And being neare, growes pallid and obscure:
But in her husbands presence, is most pure,
In all chast ornaments, bright still with him,
And in his absence, all retir’d and dim:
With him still kind
and pleasing, still the same;
Yet with her weeds, not putting off her shame:
But when for bed-rites her attire is gone,
In place thereof her modest shame goes on.
Not with her husband lies, but he with her:
And in their loue-ioyes doth so much prefer
Modest example, that she will not kisse
Her husband, when her daughter present is.
When a iust husbands right he would enioy,
She neither flies him, nor with moods is coy.
One, of the light dame sauours, th’other showes
Pride, nor from loues ingenuous humor flowes.
And as Geometricians approue,
That lines, nor superficies, do moue
Themselues, but by their bodies motions go:
So your good woman neuer striues to grow
Strong in her owne affections and delights,
But to her husbands equall appetites,
Earnests and ieasts, and lookes austerities,
Her selfe in all her subiect powres applies.
Since lifes chiefe cares on him are euer laid,
In cares she euer comforts, vndismaid,
Though her heart grieues, her lookes yet makes it sleight,
Dissembling euermore, without deceit.
And as the twins of learn’d Hippocrates,
If one were sicke, the other felt disease:
If one reioyc’t; ioy th’others spirits fed:
If one were grieu’d, the other sorrowed:
So fares she with her husband; euery thought
(Weightie in him) still watcht in her, and wrought.
And as those that in Elephants delight,
Neuer come neare them in weeds rich and bright;
Nor Buis approch in scarlet; since those hewes,
Through both those beasts, enrag’d affects diffuse:
And as from Tygres, men the Timbrels sound
And Cimbals keepe away; since they abound
Thereby in furie, and their owne flesh teare:
So when t’a good wife, it is made appeare,
That rich attire, and curiositie
In wires, tires, shadowes, do displease the eye
Of her lou’d husband; musicke, dancing, breeds
Offence in him; she layes by all those weeds,
Leaues dancing, musicke; and at euery part
Studies to please; and does it from her heart.
As greatnesse in a Steede; so dignitie
Needs in a woman, courbe, and bit, and eie,
If once she weds, shee’s two for one before:
Single againe, she neuer doubles more.
VIRGILS EPIGRAM OF PLAY.
Despise base gaine; mad Auarice hurts the mind:
Ye wise, shun fraud; beleeue the learn’d, ye blind.
At play put passions downe, as monies are.
He playes secure, whose trunks hold crowns to spare:
Who brings all with him, shall go out with none:
A greedie gamester euer ends vndone.
Peace holy is to men of honest minds;
If ye will play, then courbe your warring splenes:
No man wins alwayes. It shames mans true worth,
Of but three Furies, to fare like a fourth.
Correct your earnest spirits, and play indeed:
At staid years be not mou’d: nere play for need.
VIRGILS EPIGRAM OF WINE AND WOMEN.
Be not enthrall’d with wine, nor womens loue,
For both by one meanes hurt: as women proue
Meanes to effeminate, and mens powres decline:
So doth the too much indulgence of wine,
Staggers the vpright steps a man should take,
Dissolues his nerues, and makes his goers weake.
Blind loue makes many all their thoughts expresse,
Whose like effect hath brainlesse drunkennesse.
Wilde Cupid oft beates vp warres sterne alarmes,
As oft fierce Bacchus cals our hands to armes.
Dishonest Venus made Mars Ilion sease:
And Bacchus lost with warre the Lapithes.
Lastly, when both make mad misgouern’d minds,
Feare, shame, all vertues vanish with the winds.
With Giues make Venus hold her legs together,
And bind Liaeus in his iuie with her.
Let wine quench thirst, sweet Venus children beare,
Whose bounds once broke, ye buy their pleasures deare.
VIRGILS EPIGRAM OF THIS LETTER Y.
This letter of Pythagoras, that beares
This forkt distinction, to conceit prefers
The forme mans life beares. Vertues hard way takes
Vpon the right hand path: which entrie makes
(To sensuall eyes) with difficult affaire:
But when ye once haue climb’d the highest staire,
The beautie and the sweetnesse it containes,
Giue rest and comfort, farre past all your paines.
The broad-way in a brauery paints ye forth
(In th’entrie) softnesse, and much shade of worth:
But when ye reach the top, the taken Ones
It headlong hurles downe, torne at sharpest stones.
He then, whom vertues loue, shall victor crowne,
Of hardest fortunes, praise wins and renowne:
But he that sloth and fruitlesse luxurie
Pursues, and doth with foolish warinesse flie
Opposed paines, (that all best acts befall)
Liues poore and vile, and dies despisde of all.
A FRAGMENT OF THE TEARES OF PEACE.
O that some sacred labour would let in
The ocean through my womb, to dense my sin;
I, that belou’d of Heauen, as his true wife,
Was wont to bring forth a delightsome life
To all his creatures: and had vertues hand
To my deliuerance, decking euery land
(Where warre was banisht) with religious Temples,
Cloisters and monuments in admir’d examples
Of Christian pietie, and respect of soules,
Now drunke with Auarice and th’adulterous boules
Of the light Cyprian, and by Dis deflowr’d,
I bring forth seed, by which I am deuour’d:
Infectuous darknesse from my intrails flies,
That blasts Religion, breeds black heresies,
Strikes vertue bedrid, fame dumb, knowledge blind,
And for free bounties (like an Easterne wind)
Knits nets of Caterpillers, that all fruités
Of planting peace, catch with contentious suites.
And see (O heauen) a warre that inward breeds
Worse farre then Ciuill, where in brazen steeds,
Armes are let in vnseene, and fire and sword
Wound and consume men with the rauenous hord
Of priuate riches, like prickt pictures charm’d,
And hid in dunghils, where some one is arm’d
With armes of thousands; and in such small time,
(Euen out of nakednesse) that the dismall crime
Stickes in his biasing forehead like a starre,
Signall of rapine and spoile worse then warre,
These warres giue such slie poison for the spleene,
That men affect and studie for their teene,
That it recures the wolfe in auarice,
And makes him freely spend his golden thies:
Yet no one thought spends on poore Vertues peace.
Warres, that as peace abounds, do still increase.
Warres where in endlesse rout the kingdome erres,
Where misers mightie grow the mightie misers,
Where partiall Lucre Iustice sword doth draw:
Where Eris turnes into Eunomia,
And makes Mars weare the long robe, to performe
A fight more blacke and cruell, with lesse storme,
To make for stratagème, a po
licie driuen
Euen to the conquest, ere th’alarme be giuen.
And for set battels where the quarrell dies,
Warres that make lanes through whole posterities,
Arachne wins from Pallas all good parts,
To take her part, and euery part conuerts
His honie into poison: abusde Peace
Is turn’d to fruitlesse and impostum’d ease,
For whom the dwarfe Contraction is at worke
In all professions; and makes heauen lurke
In corner pleasures: learning in the braine
Of a dull linguist, and all tight in gaine,
All rule in onely powre, all true zeale
In trustlesse auarice: all the commonweale
In few mens purses. Volumes fild with fame
Of deathlesse soules, in signing a large name;
Loue of all good in selfe loue: all deserts
In sole desert of hate. Thus Ease inuerts
— My fruitfull labours, and swolne blind with lust,
Creepes from her selfe, trauailes in yeelding dust;
Euen reeking in her neuershifted bed:
Where with benumbd securitie she is fed:
Held vp in Ignorance, and Ambitions armes,
Lighted by Comets, sung to by blind charmes.
Behind whom Danger waites, subiection, spoyle,
Disease, and massacre, and vncrowned Toyle:
Earth sinkes beneath her, heauen fais: yet she deafe
Heares not their thundring ruines: nor one leafe
Of all her Aspen pleasures, euer stirres;
In such dead calmes her starke presumption erres.
For good men.
A good man want? will God so much deny
His lawes, his witnesses, his ministrie?
Which onely for examples he maintaines
Against th’vnlearnd, to proue, he is, and raignes:
And all things gouerns iustly: nor neglects
Things humane, but at euery part protects
A good man so, that if he Hues or dies,
All things sort well with him? If he denies
A plenteous life to me, and sees it fit
I should liue poorely; What, alas, is it?
But that (refusing to endanger me
In the forlorne hope of men rich and hie,)
Like a most carefull Captaine, he doth sound
Retraite to me; makes me come backe, giue ground
To any, that hath least delight to be
A scuffler in mans warre for vanitie?
And I obey, I follow, and I praise
My good Commander. All the cloudie daies
Of my darke life, my enuied Muse shall sing
His secret loue to goodnesse: I will bring
Glad tidings to the obscure few he keepes:
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 25