Classic Poem

LIB. 5.

SAT. I.

Sit paena merenti.

Pardon ye glowing eares; Needs will it out,
Tho brazen wals compas'd my tongue about,
As thicke as wealthy Scrobioes quicke-set rowes
In the wide Common that he did inclose.
Pull out mine eyes, if I shall see no vice,
Or let me see it with detesting eyes.
Renowmed Aquine , now I follow thee,
Farre as I may for feare of ieopardie;
And to thy hand yeeld vp the Iuye -mace,
From crabbed Persius , and more smooth Horace ;
Or from that shrew, the Roman Poetesse,
That taught her gossips learned bitternesse.
Or Luciles Muse whom thou didst imitate,
Or Menips olde, or Pasquillers of late.
Yet name I not Mutius , or Tigilline ;
Tho they deserue a keener stile then mine;
Nor meane to ransacke vp the quiet graue;
Nor burne dead bones, as he example gaue,
I taxe the liuing, let dead ashes rest,
Whose faults are dead, and nayled in their chest;
Who can refraine, that's guiltlesse of their crime,
Whiles yet he liues in such a cruell time.
When Titios grounds, that in his Grand-sires daies
But one pound fine, one penny rent did raise,
A sommer-snow-ball, or a winter-rose,
Is growne to thousands as the world now goes:
So thrift and time sets other things on flote,
That now his sonne soups in a silken cote,
Whose Grandsire happily a poore hungry Swayne,
Beg'd some cast Abby in the Churches wane
And but for that, what euer he may vaunt,
Who now's a Monke, had beene a Mendicant ;
While freezing Matho , that for one leane fee,
Wont terme ech Terme the Terme of Hilarie ,
May now in steed of those his simple fees;
Get the fee-simples of fayre Manneryes.
What, did he counterfait his Princes hand,
For some streaue Lord-ship of concealed land?
Or on ech Michaell , and Lady-day ,
Tooke he deepe forfaits for an houres delay?
And gain'd no lesse by such iniurious braule,
Then Gamius by his sixt wiues buriall?
Or hath he wonne some wider Interest,
By hoary charters from his Grandsires chest,
Which late some bribed Scribe for slender wage,
Writ in the Characters of another age,
That Ploydon selfe might stammer to rehearse,
Whose date ore lookes three Centuries of yeares;
Who euer yet the Trackes of weale so tride,
But there hath beene one beaten way beside?
He, when he lets a Lease for life, or yeares,
(As neuer he doth vntill the date expeares;
For when the full state in his fist doth lie,
He may take vantage of the vacancie,)
His Fine affor'ds so many trebled pounds,
As he agreeth yeares to Lease his grounds:
His Rent in faire respondence must arise,
To double trebles of his one yeares price;
Of one bayes breadth, God wot, a silly cote,
Whose thatched spars are furr'd with sluttish soote
A whole inch thick, shining like Black-moors brows
Through smok that down the head-les barrel blows.
At his beds-feete feeden his stalled teme,
His swine beneath, his pullen ore the beame:
A starued Tenement, such as I gesse,
Stand stragling in the wasts of Holdernesse ,
Or such as shiuer on a Peake-hill side,
When Marches lungs beate on their turfe-clad hide:
Such as nice Lipsius would grudge to see,
Aboue his lodging in wild West-phalye :
Or as the Saxon King his Court might make,
When his sides playned of the Neat-heards cake.
Yet must he haunt his greedy Land-lords hall,
With often presents at ech Festiuall;
With crammed Capons euery New-yeares morne,
Or with greene-cheeses when his sheep are shorne
Or many Maunds-full of his mellow fruite,
To make some way to win his waighty suite.
Whom cannot gifts at last cause to relent,
Or to win fauour, or flee punishment?
When griple Patrons turne their sturdie steele
To waxe, when they the golden flame doe feele;
When grand Maecenas casts a glauering eye,
On the cold present of a Poesie:
And least he might more frankly take then giue,
Gropes for a french crowne in his emptie sleeue:
Thence Clodius hopes to set his shoulders free,
From the light burden of his Naperie .
The smiling Land-lord showes a sunshine face,
Faining that he will grant him further grace;
And lear's like Æsops Foxe vpon a Crane,
Whose necke he craues for his Chirurgian ;
So lingers off the lease vntill the last,
What recks he then of paines or promise past?
Was euer fether, or fond womans mind,
More light then words; the blasts of idle wind?
What's sib or sire, to take the gentle slip;
And in th' Exchequer rot for surety-ship;
Or thence thy starued brother liue and die,
Within the cold Cole-harbour sanctuarie?
Will one from Scots-banke bid but one grote more,
My old Tenant may be turned out of doore,
Tho much he spent in th'rotten roofes repayre,
In hope to haue it left vnto his heyre;
Tho many a loade of Marie and Manure led,
Reuiu'd his barren leas, that earst lay dead.
Were he as Furius , he would defie,
Such pilfring slips of Pety land-lordrye.
And might dislodge whole Collonies of poore,
And lay their roofe quite leuell with their floore,
Whiles yet he giues as to a yeelding fence,
Their bagge and baggage to his Citizens,
And ships them to the new-nam'd Virgin-lond ,
Or wilder wales, where neuer wight yet wond:
Would it not vexe thee where thy syres did keepe,
To see the dunged foldes of dag-tayled sheepe,
And ruined house where holy things were said,
Whose free-stone wals the thatched roofe vpbraid,
Whose shril Saints-bell hangs on his louerie,
While the rest are damned to the Plumbery ?
Yet pure deuotion lets the steeple stand,
And ydle battlements on eyther hand;
Least that perhaps, were all those reliques gone,
Furious his Sacriledge could not be knowne.