Complete Dramatic Works of Thomas Dekker

by Thomas Dekker

Then in the Sunnes hot flames, clapping her wings

  She burnes to Death: out of whose ashes springs

  A second Phaenix So, when Leaders fall,

  (E’re the last gaspe) about them quicke they call

  Their souldiers, whom they heat with their own fire

  To fight it out, who seeing their soules retire

  To heauenly Tents: Ten thousand Leaders rise

  From them; and, On, a maine On, each man cries,

  A fare-well vollied loud from one to one,

  Thus Epitaph’d; There’s a braue fellow gon.

  Nor, (tho a hundred Captaines should lye slaine)

  Run the rest head-long on: ‘twere poore and vaine,

  By quitting others Deaths, to meete their Owne,

  No, euery Souldier when the Dice are throwne

  Waites his owne Cast and wa•ebe• his owne Game,

  The vpshot of all faire-play being true Fame.

  For, as yong flowers make garlands for the spring,

  As Coronets of Lillies, honor bring

  To amorous Riuers: As those smells are rare,

  Which Summers warme hand throwes into the aire:

  As Incense, from the Tyrannizing Fire

  Breaks in sweet clouds and more the flames conspire

  To choake her odorous breath, with richer sent

  Her Roseall wings fanne all the Firmament:

  So mooues a Souldier in his constant Sphaere,

  His great Desires still burning, sweete and cleare.

  Nor seekes he blood but high deeds: rather Fame

  Than a fought Battaile; for a nobler Name

  Is grauen vpon the sword, that’s dip’d in Oyle

  Than that in blood, which does all brightnesse foile

  When horror will spare none, ’tis Law, to Kill:

  But Honor sayes, Tis better saue than spill.

  Who then with lippes prophane dare curses lay

  On Warre, who to all Glory beates the way,

  Nay to all goodnesse? Downe the Court pride falls,

  When He’s in place, Church-Simony, no man calls

  To a fat Benefice: Bribery dares not feele

  The Lawyers pulse; nor Vsuries golden wheele

  Whirle in the City: Country Foxes hide

  Their ill got spoyles, which Warre can soone deuide.

  Breake then (thou thunder) that foule bed of snakes.

  Which a Luxurious peace, her darling makes,

  Dandling the Plump Brood on her wanton knees.

  Whose Braines War would beat out, & fro¯ the Lees

  Racke the pure wine, whose heate should kindle fires

  For deeds Heroicall. Warre, more admires

  One Bethlem Gabor, or one Spinola,

  Than all the braue men on St. George his Day.

  But why doe I Out-Landish coyne thus raise,

  When our own English stamps deserue more praise!

  Giue me a stout Southampton and hi•Sonne,

  A fiery Oxford who toth’ Top would runne

  Of the most dangerous, hottest, high designe,

  An Essex, which does euen himselfe cut shine

  In noble Darings: would I had a Pen,

  To set the worths downe of the best of Men

  The farre fam’d Warwicke, Holland, Willoughby,

  Whose Actes too high a Pitch for me doe flye:

  I am no Eagle to behold such Sunnes,

  My humble Muse in her owne circle runnes.

  And that’s in thee (O Troynonant:) Old Rome,

  Couldst thou thy gray head, lift vp from thy Tombe

  Glorious, as when thy Browes were deck’d with Bayes,

  Higher in fame, thy Sons thou couldst not rayse,

  Then London now can here: Thy Citizens

  Had not more honors from the Roman pens

  Than ours now me•rit: Like a brazen well

  Shee (should War thunder) vp braue spirits can call

  To guard her towers and pinnacles, sonnes here bred,

  Vnder her wing, and by her cherished.

  Nor needs she send to Forraine shores for men

  To lead her Troupes: How many a Citizen

  (Stood horror at the Gates) could fairely steere,

  And in a rough storme, guide both Van and Reare:

  But (aboue all the rest) why should not I,

  The Fames sing of our twice Decemviri,

  (Our twenty Citty Captaines,) Bond, Leate, Fen.

  (A chiefe, yet Gound amongst our Aldermen:)

  Stiles, Williams, Smith, & Andrewes, march vp here.

  Lasher, and Henshaw, ith’ next Front appeare:

  Walker and Halsey then, with Rowdon lead

  Their Companies stoutly on: lyes Milward dead!

  No, with a brow vp-reard to’th Field He hyes;

  Wallers and Langhams Drums, deafning the skies:

  Lee, Fen, and Dichfield, come in braue array,

  Whilst Wilde, and Marshall, striue to win the Day;

  Win may they, other notes our Muse must sing,

  And to the Sunne, play on a louder string

  WARRE AND THE SUNNE COMPARED.

  WAR and the Sun are Twinnes; as the Sun rides

  In’s chariot (all of flames) which himself guides

  Through heauen, the vast earth measuring inon day,

  And of all Countries (so) takes full suruay;

  Cheering all Nations, which his god-like eyes,

  Who sets as he sets; rise as he does rise.

  And in a yeare this princely Bridegroome shines,

  Twelue times, in his 12. houses, (the 12 Signes.)

  So War holds the whole world in Souereigne awe,

  (His not the Common, but the Cannon Law.)

  What Kingdomes are not glad to see him ride

  On thunder, (lightning lackying by his side?

  Turkes, Tartars, Persians, Indians, all adore

  The god of Warre; all dance to heare him rore:

  The Pole, Russe, Hungar, Sweue, and yellow Dane,

  English, French, Spanish, Dutch, waite on Wars traine,

  And to such heigth, their Empires nere had brought,

  But for the braue old battailes they haue Fought.

  Warre and the Sunne you see then, may be Twins,

  For dey being borne, Warres teeming Birth begins:

  Nay, one perpetuall motion, they both keepe,

  The Sunne still wakes and Warre can neuer sleepe.

  Last, of the Sunne, that he no point may lacke,

  Warre has found out a rare new Zodiacke,

  With signes of selfe-same names, in which the Sunne

  Does in his euerlasting Progresse runne.

  Warre his Zodiacke.1. Aries.

  WHEN into horned Moones the Squadrons change,

  Then the Battalia does in Aries Range:

  Here the braue Van comes vp, (a Souldiers pride,)

  Who dye here, Winne a Death that’s dignified.

  2. Taurus.

  WHEN like two stiffe-neck’d Buls, fell Armies meete,

  Being goard quite through with wounds, from head to feete,

  The bellowing Taurus is a lusty signe,

  That souldiers, then, in Scarlet-triumphes shine.

  3. Gemini.

  HONOR and warlike Anger, single forth,

  Troupes against Troupes, and Wings to shew their worth:

  Men then with men, their masculine valours trie,

  Which makes the Battaile mooue in Gemini.

  4. Cancer.

  HOT growes the Day, the strong, the weaker Beate;

  Which seene, the wearied Van with soft Retreate

  Giues backe; and in this polliticke Retire,

  Cancer winnes time to kindle fresher Fire.

  5. Leo.

  LIGHTNING and Thunder then, bring vp the Reare,

  And with it, Death, who playes the Murderer:

  Hels Furies are the Marshalls for the Day,

  For, Leo roares, and does his fanges display.


  6. Virgo.

  STILL to bee Killing, is a Belluine Rage,

  The thirst of Vengeance therefore to asswage.

  Mercy puts forth a Hand and Prisoners takes,

  And then milde Virgo from her Tent awakes.

  7. Libra.

  AS when two Dragons, breathlesse through deepe wounds,

  Tis doubtfull, which the others life confounds:

  So, twixt two Armies whilst coy Victory houers,

  The hopes and feares of both, Libra discouers.

  8. Scorpio.

  PEL-mell, then too’t agen; the chaine-shot flyes,

  And sweepes downe lanes of Men; tossing i’th Skies

  Armors and limbes, to shew that Scorpio throwes

  His rancorous breath forth, poisoning where it goes

  9. Sagitarius.

  O Thou olde English Archer, (Sagitary)

  Now laugh’d at is the Bow which thou doest carry;

  Thy gray Goose wing, which once braue battailes won,

  Hangs loose; for bullets on thy errands runne.

  10. Capricornus.

  WHAT Coward flyes the field! and wounds does feigne,

  To saue himselfe out of Warres sulphurous raine,

  For a few drops! off is the Pezant borne!

  His signe shalbe the skipping Capricorne.

  11. Aquarius.

  WINTER now comes, Heauens sluces powre out rayne;

  Or, Fields are standing pooles through Armies slayne:

  Else, a torne Country swims in her owne teares,

  And then Aquarius vp his Standard reares.

  12. Pisces.

  BVT, when Pay slackes; and health with Victuals) •on,

  Souldiers being forc’d to liue on dry poore Iohn;

  Ye•, two by two (like sharkes) themselues combine

  For booties; Pisces, is this lucklesse Signe.

  To All.

  THUS, Home at last, the Souldier comes,

  As vselesse as the Hung-vp Drums:

  And (but by Noble hands being Fed,

  May beg hard; hardly yet get Bread.

  Nulla salus Bello,

  THOUGH thus of War, a Paradox I write,

  War is a Kingdomes darke and gloomy night,

  Ecclipsing all her face: Peace is bright day,

  That Sun shine send vs, keep• the •ight away.

  Pacem, te posci nus on nes.

  Because mention is made before of the City Captaines; their Lieutenants at that time not being in place. Here behold them.

  THE 20 CITY LIEUTENANTS.

  CAPTAINES without Lieutenants are like men

  Borne with one hand (the right) Lieutenants then,

  Serue for the Left, and when that Right is lame,

  The Left workes hard to reare an Armies Fame:

  In dangers they with Captaines crye halfe parts,

  These, are their seconds, nay, are halfe their hearts:

  Lieutenants are the Vshers in Warres schoole,

  Captaines, head-masters; and they beare such rule,

  As Viceroyes vnder Kings: Then, vnder these

  (Our twenty London-leaders,) who so please

  To reckon their Lieutenants, here they stand,

  The Captains them, these honoring their Command.

  Bring vp your wings, your squadrons then, & files,

  And read what Story your owne worth compiles.

  Lieutenant Tompson comes by order first;

  Then Pierce, (a sonne vnder Bellona nurst;)

  Yong lifts his head vp in the thickest throng:

  Davies, and Hanson, I should doe you wrong,

  Did not you step in heere, and claime your due;

  Mannering, and Smart, the next voice cries vp you:

  Couel, and Adams, walke their warlike Round,

  Whilst Parker souldierlike, makes good his ground.

  Close to him, Cuthbert labours to win Fame:

  Forster, will nothing loose in Warres great Game.

  Loud peales of Muskets, Slauey loues to heare;

  Midst groues of Pikes does Normington appeare:

  Cruso’s heart dances, when the proud Drum beates;

  Trauers cryes on; and scornes all base retreates:

  Shepheard is like a Lyon in the Field;

  Gawthorne, for skill and heart, to none will yeild:

  Manby (though last but one) in worth not least,

  With Phillips, marches vp with manly breast.

  These Chiefes, and these Lieutenants, are the Ring,

  Their Troupes, the Diamonds, fit to serue a King.

  FINIS.

  THE BLACKE ROD: AND THE WHITE ROD

  (Iustice and Mercie.) Striking, and Sparing, LONDON.

  PSAL. 91.

  Surely hee will deliver thee from the snare of the Hunter. And from the noisome Pestilence. Hee will couer thee vnder his wings, and thou shalt be sure vnder his Feathers. Thou shalt not bee afraid of the Pestilence, that walketh in the Darke, nor of the Plague that Destroyeth at Noone-day.

  Pugna suum Finem, cum jacet Hostis, habet.

  LONDON. Printed by B.A. and T.F. for IOHN COWPER.

  1630.

  THE BLACKE AND WHITE ROD.

  THIS World is a Royall Exchange, where all sorts of Men are Merchants: Kings hold Commerce with Kings, and their Voyages are vpon high Negotiations: As, the deare buying of anothers Country, with their owne Subiects Bloud: The Purchasing of new Crownes, and new Scepters, not satisfied with the old.

  And, as Kings, so Princes, Dukes, Earles, Lords, Clergy-men, Iudges, Souldiers, haue their Trading in particular Marchandizes, and walke euery day for that purpose vpon this Old Royall Exchange.

  They talke in seuerall Languages, And (like the murmuring fall of Waters) in the Hum of seuerall businesses: insomuch that the place seemes Babell, (a Confusion of tongues.)

  The best, (yet most incertaine) Commodity, which all these Merchants striue for, is Life: if Health begot into the bargaine, He is a Made man, into whose hands it comes. Yet when these two inestimable Treasures are shipped in one Bottome, together; There are Winds, and Waues, and Woes, which still fill the Sayles, and hang vpon the Tacklings.

  What’s the end of this Voyage.

  Currit Mercator ad Indos.

  To heape vp Gold.

  The Merchants Name i’th Indies, is inroll’d.

  Nay, though he casts a Girdle about the World, yet, Anchor he must in one Harbour or another, to come to shore, and Proclaime his Lading on this Ryalta, this Burse, or this Royall Exchange, And when the Exchange-Bell rings. (his passing-Bell tolles) That’s the warning-Peece to tell him hee must goe off, he must for that time talke there no more of his Transitorie Commodities, the Exchange of this world with him is then done, and Home does he hasten to dine with Wormes.

  This Earthly spacious Building, in which we Dwell, (as Tenants onely for life) is likewise a glorious Theater, full of admirable Conueyances and Curiosities; The Frame or Module of it is round, with a Siluer mouing Roofe (call’d the Heauens) to couer it by day, and a Golden Canopy of Starres to Curtaine about it by Night.

  In stead of Arras and Tapestrie, (which commonly doe now, and euer haue adorned, the old Amphitheaters, this is richly hung round about with the Element of Ayre.

  The beauties of the Earth are the Stage: Furnished bounteously, and set forth in all Brauery, with Woods, full of Trees, Gardens full of Flowers, Orchards full of Fruit, Fields full of standing Corne, (like so many Speares ready for a Battaile) Mountaines high in Pride, Valleys sweet in Pleasure.

  Our Mothers Wombe is the Tyring-house, where we make vs ready; And our Cradle, the Musicke-Roome, for there we are sweetly strung with Innocence. Nothing (then) puts vs out of tune, but a peale of crying, And whats that? Onely a little Note, a little too high; which being mended, the Melodie is Heauenly; for, there is no Concord without Discord.

  Vpon this goodly Stage, all sorts of People (Men, Women, and Children) are Actors; Some play Emperours, some, Kings, some Beggars, some Wise-men, some Fooles.
The hardest part to play is a good Man: and ’tis rare to see a long part giuen him to study.

  On this stage are presented Tragedies, and Comedies; The terriblest Tragedie is that, of the Soule, fighting to get off (well,) from the Body. The best and most pleasing Comedie, is that of a white Conscience, and the Peace of Mind.

  Some haue Plaudits, Showts and Acclamations, and those are such who haue play’d good parts, and play’d them Brauely-well. Some goe hissed off the Stage. And that is for want of being perfect in those good parts, which are put into them.

  Some, play very long Parts, (and they are old Men) some, haue done in the midst of the Play, (And they are young Men) some, being but in a Scaene, before they speake, are out, and lost, (And they are Children.)

  Euery Actor hath his Entrance, euery one his Exit: As one comes out, another goes off, and sometimes meeting on the Stage together, they leaue the Stage together. But in the Conclusion, He that can get Angels to sit, in the Galleries of Heauen, and clap his action with theyr Immortall hands, he is the onely Roscius of the time, and one of the best Actors that euer stept on stage.

  The sum, vpshot, and cloze of all, is this That, as many Men as that walke on that Royall Exchange, and seeme rich, doe often breake and are lay’d in Prison: So in this World; when we appeare neuer so strong in Body, neuer so stirring in minde; yet, if health turnes Banquerupt once, and that the Sergeant with the Blacke Rod, (Sicknesse) Arrests vs; if eyther Casualties, by Sea or Land, if losses, vexations, misfortunes or miseries, breake our hearts, whether then are we carried! To our euerlasting Prison the Graue.

  And so, when in this Magnificent Theater, we haue Ietted long on the Stage, And borne our Heads high; yet, our Parts being done, we are inforced to put off, our gay borrowed garments, and wrapping our selues in poore winding-Sheets, Hasten to our owne homes, and (still) that’s the Graue.

  The Graue then, is the Rendez-vouz where we all meet; The Market-place where the Drum of Death beates, to haue vs come together: The Towne-Hall, where all our brablings are ended: The Castle, to appeare at, which at the Assizes, the Body is bound ouer, and there it is Cast: In the Feild of dead mens Sculs, and fleshlesse bones, must the great Army of all Mankind muster, on Mount Caluary, CHRIST lost his life, And in Dust and Ashes must we leaue Ours.

  We need not read any Bookes to proue this: Euery man holds a Pen in his hand, to write a story of it.

  To passe ouer the Volumes of the Graue, (filled by Adam and his Children,) in the first World; And clasping-vp, those likewise which haue beene euer since, after the Deluge, in this second World: Let vs cast our Eyes onely at that Blacke Rod, and that white Rod, which from time to time, haue first smitten, and then spared, This Kingdome of Great Britaine.