Classic Poem

SAT. 4.

Plus beau que fort.

Can I not touch some vpstart carpet-shield
Of Lolio's sonne, that neuer saw the field,
Or taxe wild Pontice for his Luxuries ,
But straight they tell mee of Tiresias eyes?
Or lucklesse Collingborns feeding of the crowes,
Or hundreth Scalps which Thames still vnderflowes?
But straight Sigalion nods and knits his browes,
And winkes and waftes his warning hand for feare,
And lisps some silent letters in my eare?
Haue I not vow'd for shunning such debate
(Pardon ye Satyres) to degenerate?
And wading low in this plebeian lake
That no salt waue shall froath vpon my backe,
Let Labeo , or who else list for mee,
Go loose his eares and fall to Alchymie :
Onely, let Gallio giue me leaue a while
To schoole him once, or ere I change my style.
O lawlesse paunch the cause of much despight,
Through raunging of a currish appetite,
When splenish morsels cram the gaping Maw,
Withouten diets care, or trencher-law,
Tho neuer haue I Salerne rimes profest
To be some Ladies trencher-criticke guest;
Whiles each bit cooleth for the Oracle
Whose sentence charms it with a ryming spell;
Touch not this Coler, that Melancholy
This bit were drie and hote, that cold and dry;
Yet can I set my Gallios dieting,
A pestle of a Larke, or Plouers wing,
And warne him not to cast his wanton eyne
On grosser Bacon, or salt Haberdine,
Or dried Fliches of some smoked Beeue,
Hang'd on a writhen wythe since Martins eue,
Or burnt Larkes heeles, or Rashers raw and greene,
Or Melancholike liuer of an Hen,
Which stout Vorano brags to make his feast,
And claps his hand on his braue Ostrige-breast;
Then fals to praise the hardy Ianizar ,
That sucks his horse side thirsting in the warre.
Lastly to seale vp all that he hath spoke,
Quaffes a whole Tunnell of Tabacco smoke:
If Martius in boystrous Buffes be drest,
Branded with Iron plates vpon the brest,
And pointed on the shoulders, for the nonce,
As new-come from the Belgian garrisons:
What shall thou need to enuie ought at that,
When as thou smellest like a Ciuet Cat ;
When as thine oyled locks smooth platted fall,
Shining like varnisht pictures on a wall.
When a plum'd Fanne may shade thy chalked face,
And lawny strips thy naked bosome grace.
If brabling Make-fray at ech Fayre and Sise
Picks quarrels for to show his valiantise,
Straight pressed for an hungry Swizzers pay
To thrust his fist to ech part of the fray,
And piping hote puffes toward the pointed plaine
With a broad Scot , or proking spit of Spayne ,
Or hoyseth sayle vp to a forraine shore,
That he may liue a lawlesse Conquerer.
If some such desperate Hakster shall deuise
To rouze thine Hares-heart from her cowardise,
As idle children striuing to excell
In blowing bubles from an emptie shell;
Oh Hercules how like to proue a man,
That all so rath thy warlike life began?
Thy mother could thee for thy cradle set,
Her husbands rusty iron corselet;
Whose iargling sound might rocke her babe to rest
That neuer plain'd of his vneasie nest
There did he dreame of drery wars at hand,
And woke, and fought, & won, ere he could stand;
But who hath seene the Lambs of Tarentine ,
May gesse what Gallio his manners beene;
All soft as is the falling thistle-downe,
Soft as the fumie ball, or Morrians crowne;
Now Gallio , gins thy youthly heat to raigne
In euery vigorous limme, and swelling vaine,
Time bids the raise thine hedstrong thoughts on hy
To valour and aduenterous chiualry;
Pawne thou no gloue for challenge of the deede,
Nor make thy Quintaine others armed head
T'enrich the waiting Herald with thy shame
And make thy losse, the scornefull scaffolds game.
Wars; God forfend; nay God defend from warre,
Soone are Sonns spent, that not soone reared are:
Gallio may pull me roses ere they fall,
Or in his net entrap the Tennis-ball:
Or tend his Spar-hauke mantling in her mew,
Or yelping Begles busy heeles persue,
Or watch a sinking corke vpon the shore,
Or halter Finches through a priuie doore,
Or list he spend the time in sportfull game,
In daily courting of his louely dame,
Hange on her lips, melt in her wanton eye,
Dance in her hand, ioy in her iollity,
Here's little perill, and much lesser paine,
So timely Hymen doe the rest restraine:
Hy wanton Gallio and wed betime,
Why should'st thou leese the pleasures of thy prime?
Seest thou the Rose-leaues fall vngathered?
Then hye thee wanton Gallio to wed:
Let Ring and Ferule meet vpon thine hand,
And Lucines girdle with her swathing-bands,
Hy thee and giue the world yet one dwarfe more:
Such as it got when thou thy selfe wast bore:
Looke not for warning of thy bloomed chin,
Can neuer happines to soone begin;
Virginius vow'd to keepe his Mayden-head,
And eats chast Lettuce, and drinkes Poppy-seed,
And smels on Camphyre fasting: and that done,
Long hath he liu'd, chast as a vayled Nunne,
Free as a new-absolued Damosell
That Frier Cornelius shriued in his Cell,
Till now he waxt a toothlesse Bacheler,
He thaw's like Chaucers frostie Ianiuere
And sets a months minde vpon smiling May .
And dyes his beard that did his age bewray;
Byting on Annis-seede, and Rose-marine,
Which might the Fume of his rot lungs refine:
Now he in Charons barge a Bride doth seeke,
The maydens mocke, and call him withered Leeke,
That with a greene tayle hath an hoary head,
And now he would, and now he cannot wed.