Bore We are the Number born to drink and eat The Woers of Penelope the spruce the neat The lazy Rascals and whose whole design Was to get vicious pleasure and be fine Who thought it vertuous to sleep half the Day And lull their Cares with Musick Dance and Play 2. Rogues rise before 't is light to kill and Thieve Wilt Thou not wake to save thy self alive If now when well you will not leave your Ease In vain you 'l try when prest with a Disease And when you cannot sleep except you read And in good things employ your watchful head Pale Treacherous Sins will swift approaches make And Lust or Envy vex Thee whilst awake For why when any thing offends thy Eyes Dost thou streight seek for ease and streight advise Yet if it shall oppress thy Mind endure The ills with Patience and defer the Cure He that hath once begun a good design Hath finish't half dare to be wise begin He that deferrs to live is like the Clown Who waits expecting till the River 's gone But that still rouls its Streams and will roul on We seek for Wealth a good and fruitful Wife The pleasures comforts and supports of Life Our Woods are tam'd and plough'd encrease our store He that hath got enough desires no more Did ever Lands or heaps of Silver ease The feav'rish Lord Or cool the hot Disease Or free his Mind from Cares He must have health He must be well that would enjoy his wealth He that desires or fears diseas'd in mind Wealth profits him as Pictures do the blind Plaisters the Gouty Feet and charming Airs And sweetest sounds the stuft and troubled Ears The musty Vessels sour what they contain Scorn Pleasure Pleasure hurts that 's bought with pain The Greedy want to Wishes fix an End The Envious pine at th' fatness of their Friend The fiercest Tyrants never yet could find A greater rack than Envy to the mind The Man that doth too hastily engage That is all fire and cannot curb his rage Baffles his own design whilst weaker grown With malice unreveng'd He strikes too soon Anger 's a short frenzy curb thy Soul And check thy rage which must be rul'd or rule Use all thy Art with all thy force restrain And take the strongest Bitt and firmest Rein The Jocky trains the young and tender Horse Whilst yet soft mouth'd He breeds him to the Course The Whelp since when i' th' Hall He learn'd to bark At Bucks-skins stuff'd now ranges o're the Park Now now whilst young with vertuous Rules begin Such holy Precepts now and free from sin What season'd first the Vessel keeps the Tast Now if you lag behind or run too fast I stay not for the slow I mind my Race Nor press on those that run a swifter pace EPISTLE III. To his Friend Julius Florus A familiar Epistle enquiring about several matters MY Julius Florus I would gladly hear Where Claudius Caesar's kinsman kindles War Doth Thrace or Hebrus bound in Chains of Snow Or doth the Hellespont I wish to know Or Asia's fruitful Fields detain you now What do the Wits design Who nobly dares This I would know to write great Caesar's Wars And who inspir'd with an unusual rage Shall spread his Fights and Leagues thro future Age. And what doth Titius He of growing Fame Who doth not fear to drink of Pindar's Stream Who scorns known Springs and Lakes that glorious He And is He well and doth He think of Me Doth He the Muse propitious nobly sing And fit to Roman Harps the Theban string Or is he writing Plays and treads the Stage In murd'ring Verse and swells with Tragick rage And how doth Celsus do Whom I still warn as I have often done To get some Stock some riches of his own And not from others labours kept for fame In wise Apollo's Temple steal a name Lest all the Birds should come and claim their own And th'Chough be his when her stoln Plumes are gone What do you do What will your Mind produce From what sweet Beds of Thyme suck pretious juice For you have Wit enough your sence is great And not deform'dly rough but fine and neat Whether with poynant Tongue you plead a Cause Defend the Innocent and teach the Laws Or choose soft Numbers and smooth Poetry The chiefest Crown still justly waits on Thee If You could leave those Cares that num thy Mind Shake off thy fears and leave the Clog behind Then you would live as Wisdom's rules advise This is the Work the noble Study this This rich and poor should make their greatest care If we would live secure and free from fear To honest Men and to our Country dear Pray write me whether for I wish to know You love Numenius as you ought to do Or if the former difference clos'd in vain Was never fully cur'd but breaks again But you in whatsoever part you live Whether 't is heat or rashness makes you strive Both brave and hot and Oh! too dear to prove How frail are all the bands of Brothers love Where e're you now reside return to Rome I feed a Steer to offer when you come EPISTLE IV. A familiar complement to his Friend Albius Tibullus ALbus the fairest Critic that I know What shall I say that you are doing now In Pedan fields do you design to write More great than Cassius and with higher flight Or dost thou gravely walk the healthy Wood Considering what befits the Wise and Good For You are not all Body void of Mind The Gods have given a Soul of Noble kind And Wealth and Skill enough to use thy Store What could a Nurse for her dear Child wish more Than that He might be Sober whilst He lives And able to express what He conceives Enjoy the Love of all and Fame and Health And cleanly Diet with sufficient Wealth Whilst mid'st strong hopes and fears thy time doth wast Think every rising Sun will be thy last And so the grateful unexpected Hour Of Life prolong'd when come will please the more Then come and see me now grown plump and fine When you would laugh at one of Epicurus Swine EPISTLE V. To his Friend Torquatus He invites his Friend to a small Collation IF you can sit upon a paultry Seat My Friend Torquatus and endure to Eat A homely Dish a Sallad all the Treat Sir I shall make a Feast my Friends invite And beg that you would Sup with me to Night My Liquor flow'd from the Minturnian Vine In Taurus Consulship 't is Common Wine If you have better let the Flasks be sent Or let what I the Lord provide content My Servants sweep and furnish every Room My Dishes all are cleans'd against you come Forbear thy wanton hopes and Toyl for gain And Moschus Cause 't is all but idle Pain To morrow Caesar's Birth-day comes to give Release to Cares and a small time to live Then we may sleep till Noon and gay delight And merry talk prolong the Summer's Night
Faith which lets all Secrets pass Much more transparent than a glass ODE XIX To GLYCERA He confesseth his Love THe cruel Mother of Desires And wanton Youth reproves And bids me rais'd by Bacchus Fires Restore my self to my forsaken Loves Fair Glycera my wish provokes More white than polisht Marble Stone Inviting coy and slippery looks Coy looks too slippery to be gaz'd upon Now Venus leaves her Cyprian Seats And fills my Soul with all her heats Bids me not mind the Parthian force When dreadful on his Flying Horse He makes his proud and conquering retreats All that I think on must be Love Bring Wine my Boys an Altar rear A tender Lamb perhaps may move And make the angry Goddess less severe ODE XX. He invites Mecaenas to take a Bottle of Wine at his house POor Sabine Wine in Cups as poor Is all my present store 'T was bottled then when You my Lord In crowded Theaters ador'd Smooth Tyber's Banks around Return'd the joyful sound And babling Eccho's the glad shouts restor'd Rich Casks from the Colenian Vine Or smooth Caecubian Wine Your Cellar store but meaner juice Contented I must humbly use My Cups the Formian Hill Nor the Falernian fill 'T is Wealth 's great priviledge to be profuse ODE XXI He exhorts the Boys and Maids to sing Apollo 's and Diana 's praise YE tender Maids Diana sing Apollo Praise Ye rising Boys And both to equal Honors bring Latone too whom mighty Jove Did deeply love And show the pious duty of your joys Diana sing Diana loves The purling Springs that softly flow The pleasing Woods and quiet Groves That shady Erymanthus bears Or Cragis rears Or in cold Algidum but slowly grow Ye Males with equal Songs reherse The flowry Tempe's open Air Or sing with an immortal Verse Fair Delos Isle the happy Earth That gave him birth His charming Harp his Bow and graceful Hair He by your Pious Vows o'rcome Pale Famine and rough Wars shall drive From Caesar and his happy Rome And make those raging Plagues infest The distant West Whilst we in wanton Peace and Plenty live ODE XXII Nothing will hurt a good innocent Man and a faithful Lover A Man unstain'd and pure from Sin No Quiver fraught with poyson'd Heads No Africk Javelin needs He has a Guard and Arms within Whether o're Syrtes wandring sands Or bruitish Caucasus He goes Or where Hydaspes flows And swiftly cuts the savage Lands Of late when Cares forsook my head I stray'd and Sang i th' Sabine Grove My Lalage my Love A Woolf saw me unarm'd and fled A Beast so large did never roar i th' Daunian Woods and fright the Swains Nor in her burning Plains The Lyons Dry-Nurse Africk bore So place me where no Sun appears Or wrapt in Clouds or drown'd in tears Where Woods with whirling Tempests tost Where no relieving Summers breeze Does murmur thro the Trees But all lyes bound and fixt in Frost Or place me where the scorching Sun With beams too near doth burn the Zone Yet fearless there I 'le gladly rove Let frowning or let smiling Fate Or Curse or Bless my State Sweet smiling Lalage I 'le always love ODE XXIII He tells his young Mistriss that she is now of Age and need not be affraid of him YOu fly me Maid as tender Fawns Seek absent Dams in deep despair O're craggy Rocks o're Woods and Lawns And idly fear at every breath of Air. If Winds do whistle thrô the Grove Or ruffle Vinâ—s they quickly start If Lizzards in a Bramble move An Icy trembling runs thrô every part Not Tyger I or angry Bore Pursue Thee Chloe to destroy Attend thy Mother's heels no more Now grown mature for Man and ripe for Joy ODE XXIV He comforts Virgil Mourning for the Death of his Friend ANd who can grieve too much what time shall end Our mourning for so dear a Friend Melpomene whom Jove hath blest With melting Voice and mournful Tongue And with a Harp above the rest Hath grac't begin the Melancholly Song And doth eternal Sleep close Varus Eyes How soon our Pride and Glory dyes And where will equal Justice find Where steddy Faith and naked Truth So generous and so great a Mind And where an Equal to the falling Youth To be bewail'd by all the Good the Just He fell by you dear Virgil most By you who now dost mourn in vain By Pious you who idely pray To have thy Varus back again He was not lent Thee for a longer stay Could you with foster touch than Orpheus move The Harp that drew the list'ning Grove The Grove that danc't to Tunes he play'd Yet Blood and Bones would scarce return Nor Flesh to cloath the empty shade The Shade that once lay naked in the Urn. Which Mercury a hard uneasie God To open Fate with frightful Rod Hath driven thrô the gloomy Air And shut amongst the Shades of Night 'T is hard but when We needs must bear Enduring Patience makes the Burthen light ODE XXV He insults over his Mistriss Lydia now grown Old HA Ha! Thy Trade at last is done And all thy wanton Lovers gone No sighing Youths attend thy State There 's no such rattling at thy dore As Heretofore And now thy Threshold loves thy quiet Gate Now you may rest secure from noise And sadly dream of former joys You seldom hear despairing Sighs My Lydia rests in soft delight All the long night Whil'st here her faithful Lover pines and dyes Now now 't is thine thy turn to moan The haughty wantons all alone Now to a shady Grove retire Whilst Winds as cold as thy dull Age Do fiercely rage And cool the poor remainders of thy fire When Lust as fierce as Mares desires Thy ulcerous Heart and Liver fires Then Thou shalt mourn but mourn in vain That wanton Youth seeks blooming Charms And greener arms Whilst longing Age still meets with cold disdain Then thou shalt think on sweets before And dye at the despairing thought No more ODE XXVI He desires his Muse to commend his Friend Lamia I I the Muses merry Friend Deliver all my busie Cares Unto the wanton VVind What Tyrant of the North Leads dreadful Armies forth Secure alone and laugh at others fears Sweet Muse that dost delight to sing In strains to Roman Ears unknown And tast the Virgin spring Trace o're the shady Bowers And gather sweetest flowers And wreath my Lamia wreath a noble Crown What Honors I without thy Aid Bestow to grace my Friends are vain My Crowns will quickly fade You Muse and all the Nine should raise In new Alcaïcks Lamia's praise And make him live in an unusual strain ODE XXVII He adviseth his Friends not to quarrel in their drink AMidst our Cups for mirth design'd To fight and quarrel suits Rough Thracian Brutes But not the sober temper of a Friend This Savage Humor Sirs forbear And free the modest God From brawls and blood And let your Humor as your Wine be clear How Cups and Swords do
be grave when not morose And mirth commends and makes our Precepts take Thus Teachers bribe their Boys with Figs and Cake To mind their books these Things deserve to have A serious handling Come now let 's be grave 2. The Souldier fights the busy Tradesman cheats And finds a thousand tricks and choice deceits The heavy Plough contents the labouring Hind The Merchant strives with every Tide and Wind And all this Toyl to get vast heaps of Gold That They might live at Ease when they are old When they have gotten store for numerous years They may be free from Want and from its fears As the Small Ant for she instructs the Man And preaches Labor gathers all she can And brings it to increase her heap at home Against the Winter which she knows will come For when that comes she creeps abroad no more But lyes at home and feasts upon her store But neither Heat nor Cold nor Wars restrain Nor Dangers fright Thee from purfuit of gain Only that Thou may'st be the richest Man What pleasure is 't with busy toyl and care To gather heaps of Gold to hide with fear Tho under ground scarce safe we think it there Why should I spend one Cross 't would still wast on 'T would all run out and I should be undone Why prethee what is 't good for till 't is gone In thy vast Barns great stores of Corn do ly Yet thou canst eat perhaps no more than I The Slaves that bear the weighty Flasks of bread With small and barly Loafs are hardly fed They sweat 't is true and with the burthen groan But eat no more than He that carrys none Besides what difference prethee is't to Me That feed no more than Nature's Luxury To plough three thousand Acres or but Three Oh but 't is sweet to take from Barns well stor'd What if You take no more than mine afford Mine but half full why dost Thou praise thine My small one is as good as thy great store more If you would fill a Cup come tell me why Why not from this small Spring that runs hard by As well as from that yonder rowling Flood Since this will give enough and quite as good For Hence whilst eager on their useless prey The rapid stream whirls them and Banks away He that seeks but enough is free from fear His Life is safe and all his water clear But most are lost in a Confounded Cheat great They would have more for when their Wealth is They think their Worth as much as their Estate Well then what must we do to such a one Why let him 't is his Will to be undone Since He as the Athenian Chuff will cry The People hiss me True but what care I Let the poor fools hiss me where e're I come I bless my self to see my bags at home Poor wretched Tantalus as Storys tell And that 's the worst the Cursed'st Plague in Hell Stands up chin deep in an o're flowing Bowl But cannot drink one drop to save his Soul free What dost Thou laugh and think that Thou art Fool change the Name the Story 's told of Thee Thou watchest o're thy heaps yet ' midst thy store Thou' rt almost starv'd for Want and still art poor You fear to touch as if You rob'd a Saint And use no more than if 't were Gold in paint You only know how Wealth may be abus'd Not what 't is good for how it can be us'd 'T will buy Thee Bread 't will buy Thee Herbs and What ever Nature's Luxury can want grant But now to watch all day and wake all night Fear Thieves and Fire and be in constant fright If These are Goods if these are a delight I am content Heavens grant me sleep and ease If These are Goods I would be poor of These Ay but suppose I should be sick what then Why then the richest are the happyest men Then are the great advantages of Wealth 'T will make the Doctor ride and bring me health 'T will get a Friend that may condole My pain And tell me that I shall do well again 'T will get a Nurse a Purge and save my Life And keep me well for my dear Friends and Wife Prethee fond fool for this ne're vex thy Head For she and all that know Thee wish Thee dead And reason good since you your Gold prefer To all your Friends your Children and to Her How then canst Thou expect that They should prove So kind to Thee when Thou deserv'st no Love Why to be Covetous yet keep thy Friends That Chance or that indulgent Nature sends It is a foolish hope absurd and vain As his to teach an Ass to take the rein And freely run a race upon the Plain Well fix a bound at last to thy Estate And then leave off when Thou hast gotten that And let not as Thou dost encrease thy store Thy fears rise too that Thou shalt once be poor Act not Uvidius come the Story 's short The tale is tragick yet 't is pretty sport A Rogue as rich as if He had a Mine He did not tell but measure heaps of Coin And yet so close he went as meanly clad As any thread-bare Servant that he had His Shoes still clouted and He always cry'd That He shou'd starve for want before he dy'd Him his Whore snapt and with a lusty blow Well struck I'faith she cleft the slave in Two What then must I spend all No that 's as bad There 's something betwixt staring and stark mad Why still to the Extreams You madly run For when I chide Thee for a greedy Clown I do not bid Thee spend and be undone No there are bounds when Nature did begin Then fixt and all is Good that lyes within And all without on either side is Sin 3. But to return to that where I began Is none so pleas'd as the rich greedy Man Is none like him contented with his state But rather praise and crave another's sate When others Cows do give more milk than his Is He not vext doth He not pine at this Doth He compare himself and doth he see That almost all are poorer far than He Doth He not strive to raise his vast Estate Be richer now than this Man now than that Yet richer still appear as He goes on And those He must Excel or Nothing 's done Just as our Racers when They run the Course Still keep their Eye upon the foremost Horse And strive to out-strip him but never mind The lazy distanc't Jade that lags behind Hence 't is searce any thinks his state is blest Nor when Death calls like a contented Guest Will rise from Life and lay him down to rest But stay enough and lest mine seems as long As Crispin's tedious Books I 'le hold my Tongue SATYR II. The Heads of the second Satyr 1. Men keep no mean as He confirms by Examples 2. He lashes the Adulterers 1. THe Players Pimps and Hectors of the Town The
be deny'd When Thirst doth burn thy Throat and call for ease Will nothing but a golden Goblet please And when thy Hunger bites and fain would eat Is all refus'd but rare and dainty meat Or when thy Lust calls for a speedy Joy And Thou hast ready a mean Girl or Boy What wilt thou rather burn than those employ I 'm of another Mind I 'm not so nice I love a Miss that comes at easie Price And says Yes when my Husband 's out of Doors Or Sir One Guiney more and I am yours Says Philodem let patient Eunuchs Court Such formal Ladies I 'm for quicker Sport I love a Miss that flies into my Arms And sets at easie rate her tempting Charms Let her be strait and fair of comely grace And let her bring no more than Nature's face Whil'st we embrace whil'st She my Arms doth fill She 's my Egeria or what e're I will Then I 'le fear nothing for no harm can come No jealous Husband is returning home No Doors broke open or the Servants rais'd Whil'st She poor Wretch starts from my Arms amaz'd And with a guilty shriek crys I 'm undone Oh now I 'm caught and all my Joynture's gone For that 's the Punishment of marry'd Whores Whil'st I poor guilty Rogue sneak out of Dores Unbutton'd and barefoot to shun the Shame And save my Purse my Flesh or else my Fame Then leave the marry'd Women be advis'd 'T is sad ask Fabius else to be surpris'd SATYR III. The Heads of the Third Satyr 1. He lashes Tigellius a Songster an Enemy of his and a most unsettled Fellow 2. Those that quickly spy others faults but cannot see their own 3. Faults of Friends should he extenuated 4. Against the Stoicks Opinion that all Faults are equal 1. AMongst their Friends our Songsters all agree Of this one fault not one of them is free Ask them to Sing you cannot have a Note No they have gotten Cold or a soare Throat But unrequested then They strain their Voice And trouble all the Company with their Noise This humour hath Tigellius often shown If by his Father's Friendship and his own Caesar that could Command did beg a Song 'T was all in vain He might have held his Tongue Yet take him in the vein and He would sing From Morn till Night a Health to Charles our King Sometimes to squeaking Treble his voice would raise Then sink again into the deepest Base A most unsettled fellow He would run As if He fled a Robber or a Dun And streight as in Procession gravely go Now with two hundred Servants now but Two Sometimes He 'd talk of Heroes and of Kings In mighty swelling Numbers mighty Things And then again let gracious Fortune give A little Meat and Drink enough to live Let her a Coat to keep out Cold present Altho 't is thick and course yet I 'm content Yet give this sparing thing this moderate This Man of mean desires a vast Estate In Nine days time 't is every Penny gone And He 's grown Poor again and is undone He wakes all Night to Sing to Drink and Play Then goes to Bed and snores it all the Day No Mans designs like his do disagree None lives so contrary to himself as He. 2. Ay but says One have you no fault like this Yes Sir I have Perhaps as great as his When Menius rail'd at Novius how says One Do'st know thy self or think thy faults unknown Ay but says Menius I forgive my Own This is a foolish and a wicked Love And such as sharpest Satyrs should reprove When thou art Blind and Senseless to thine own How do'st thou see thy Friend's Disease so soon That scarce a Serpent can so quickly spy Nor any Eagle hath so good an Eye Well then go on pursue thy mean design As Thou do'st find their faults so They will thine Perhaps He 's pettish and He 's apt to rage He cannot bear the Railery of the Age Perhaps he doth not wear his Cloaths gentile His Shoe is not well made nor sits it well He may be flouted and be jeer'd for this Yet He 's an honest Man as any is He is thy Friend and tho the Case be foul It holds a Learned and a Noble Soul Lastly look o're thy self with strictest Care And see what seeds of Vice are rooted there What Nature plants and what ill Customs bear This search is good for a neglected Field Or Thorns or useless Fern will quickly yield 3. Well let us bring our selves at last to this As ardent Lovers when they Court a Miss Or spy no faults or love those faults they spy Thus Agne's Polypus pleas'd Balbine's Eye I wish this Error in our Friendship reign'd Or had the credit of a Vertue gain'd As Fathers hide Sons faults or else commend We should excuse the failures of our Friend A Father that hath got a Squint-ey'd Boy Crys what a pretty Cast adorns my joy And calls his dwarfish Son that 's often sick As that Abortive Sisyphus his Chick Is one too Close be tender of his fame And call him thrifty 't is the softer Name If He will brag too much if He is vain Then say he is a brisk and merry Man If He will rage if he will rudely flout Then say He is a downright Friend and stout If He will huff his Airy Soul commend And this I think will get and keep a Friend But We unkindly and perversely nice Do turn their very Vertues into Vice If any lives a sober honest life Puts up Affronts and shuns disturbing Strise A mean we streight exclaim and Chicken Soul And one that 's slow We call a thick-scull'd Fool Another in these evidencing Times When Envy loads our Honest Men with Crimes Lives unsuspected and with prudent Art He keeps himself secure on every part Instead of Wise of Provident and Grave Oh He 's a Cunning and a Crafty Knave If any man as I have often done To you Mecaenas and now freely own Impertinent Discourse or Questions brings Or jogs Another whil'st He reads or sings Or sits a musing upon other things We streight grow Mad we 'l hear no just defence Pox He 's a Dolt He wants even Common Sense What Customs ah what Rules have Men design'd And how unjust and to themselves unkind There 's none but hath some fault and he 's the best Most Vertuous he that 's spotted with the least A kind good natur'd Friend that strives to prove And know the Man that he intends to love And weighs my Vertues and my Faults 't is just If happily my Vertues prove the most To let that Scale go down and if on this He 'l be a Friend I 'le bate some things amiss And make the same allowance in weighing his For those that would not have their Sores offend Must not disgust the Pimples of their Friend And 't is but just that he that hopes to find A Pardon for his Faults should be as kind And give
boyl'd with stew'd Flesh mix't with Fish the indigested load Is turn'd to Gall or Flegm and spoyls the Blood Observe how sickly and how pale the Guests How discompos'd they rise from sumptuous Feasts Besides the Body by the wild excess Enfeebled doth the nobler Mind oppress It clogs it and it makes its motions dull And fixes here the breath of Heaven the Soul The others go to Bed just close their Eyes Such little slumber Nature's wants supplies Then vig'rous to their proper business rise Yet Those can have their sparing Meals increast On Holidays or when they treat a Guest Or would indulge and when they please to Feast Besides old Age will come and that must crave A softer treatment far than Youth should have But Thou when sickness comes or feeble Age In vain do'st hope fond Youth to calm their rage By softer usage since thou dost enjoy The softest whilst a young and vig'rous Boy The Ancients did commend their stinking Bores Yet not but that their smell was good as Ours But ' cause they thought it better far to stay That was the thriftier and the nobler way And keep it till their tardy Guest was come Than eat it sweet and by themselves at home These these were Heroes these were generous Men And Oh that Nature had produc'd me then 4. Dost Thou regard thy Fame which charms our Ears With softer Musick than the sweetest Airs Take heed Luxurious Living ruins that And wasts thy Name as much as thy Estate It makes thy Neighbours angry Friends distrust And Thee thy self unto thy self unjust When Thou shalt wish for Death of all bereft And not enough to buy a Halter 's left 'T is true to some this is a just reproof This may be said to Tarsius well enough But not to Me I am secure from fate For my Revenue's large my Wealth is great Enough to keep three Kings a vast Estate Then is there no way else to spend thy Store Why since thou' rt Rich is any good Man Poor Why are not ruin'd Fanes rebuilt And why Doth not thy Wealth thy Neighbours wants supply And hath thy Country this superfluous Coin What measure hath it from this heap of Thine Kind fortune still forsooth shall smile on Thee O future sport unto thine Enemy And which is better able to endure Uncertain Chance And which lives most secure He that doth never Fortune's smiles distrust But Pampers up himself and feeds his Lust Or He that lives on little now and spares And wisely when 't is Peace provides for Wars But by one instance to confirm this Truth I knew Ofellus when I was a youth Then He was Rich yet ' midst his greatest Store He liv'd as now since Rapine made him Poor Now you may see him with his Wife and Son Till that Estate for hire which was his own He Ploughs he Sweats and stoutly digs for Bread Contented still and as he wrought He said On working Days I never us'd to eat But Cale and Bacon that was all my Meat But when an old and honest Friend of mine Or else my welcome Neighbours came to dine When it was rainy or my work was done We feasted not on costly Fish from Town But took what I could easily provide From my own Field a Pullet or a Kid And then for second course some Grapes were prest Or Nuts or Figs and that was all my Feast And after this we drank a Health or two As far as harmless sober mirth would go And then thank't Ceres for our present cheer And beg'd a plenteous Crop the following year And now let Fortune frown I scorn her force How can she make our way of living worse Have we not had enough since we grew poor Have we liv'd worse My Sons then heretofore Before a Stranger came and seiz'd my store For Nature doth not Me or Him Create The proper Lord of such and such Estate He forc't us out and doth possess my Plain Another cheat shall force him out again Or quircks in Law or when those fears are past His long-liv'd Heir shall force him out at last That which was once Ofellus Farm is gone Now call'd Umbrena's but 't is no Mans own None hath the Property it comes and goes As merry Chance or stubborn Fates dispose As God thinks fit and his firm Nods Decree Now to be us'd by Others now by Me Then live Resolv'd my Sons refuse to yield And when Fates press make Constancy your shield SATYR III. The Heads of the Third Satyr 1. The Stoicks chide him for his Laziness 2. According to the Stoicks Opinion all are mad 3. The Covetous are mad 4. The Ambitious 5. The Spend-thrifts 6. Lovers 7. The Superstitious 8. Concerning his own humor 1. YOU write so seldom scarce four sheets a year A lazy Writer but a Judge severe Still mending and revising every Line Still vex't that after all thy Sleep and Wine Yet nothing comes that doth appear to be Worth publick view What will become of Thee You here at Winters first approach did come And left the Mirth and drunken Feasts of Rome Then sober now write something as you vow'd Write something that may make thy promise good Begin nought comes thou dost in vain accuse Thy Paper Pen and Ink and angry Muse And yet you seem'd to promise something great If e're you came to your warm Country Seat Why comes Menander Plato Sophocles And why such Learned Company as These If Thou design'st to spend thy time in Ease What wilt Thou write no more to live exempt From Envy Blockhead Thou shalt meet Contempt The Siren sloth thou must resolve to shun Or lose that Fame thy better life has won Thanks Damasippus thou art grave and wise And let the Gods bestow 't is a small price A Barbar on thee for thy good advice But how came you to know my mind so well Why once I Traded till my Stock was gone And now I mind as here I live in Town Others concerns since I have lost my own For heretofore I drove a mighty Trade In Ancient Pieces knew what Piece was made By such an Artist and could tell what part Was rudely drawn and what agree'd with Art Then sold them dear I had the only skill To purchase Lands and with Advantage still And hence among the Crowd my Name was known The Mercury the Trader of the Town All this I know and wonder now to view The Change Why Sir a fancy strangely New Hath cur'd the Old Thus from another part As Head or Side pain falls into the Heart 2. Thus this Lethargick sometimes leaves his Bed In frantick fitt and breaks the Doctor 's Head Well Sir suppose You ben't as mad as He And beat me too be what you please to be Good Sir do not deceive your self for You And All if what Stertinius says be true Are mad He taught me This when first He cheer'd My drooping Mind and bad me wear this Beard For when by Trading I was quite
the Streams to take a better Course And spare the Plough-man's hopes e'en these must waste Then how can feeble Words pretend to last Some words that have or else will feel decay Shall be restor'd and come again in play And words now fam'd shall not be fancy'd long They shall not please the Ear or move the Tongue As Use shall these approve and those condemn Use the sole Rule of Speech and Judg supreme How we should write of Battles Wars and Kings And suit with mighty Numbers mighty Things First Homer show'd and by Example taught He wrote as nobly as his Heroes fought In Verses long and short Grief first appear'd In those they mourn'd past Ills and future fear'd But soon these lines with Mirth and Joy were fill'd And told when Fortune or a Mistriss smil'd But who these Measures was the first that wrote The Criticks doubt and cannot end the doubt Archilochus was arm'd by injur'd Rage With keen Iambicks He did first engage With that sharp foot and left it to the Stage For 't is a sounding Foot and full of force And fit as made on purpose for discourse In Lyrick numbers Gods and Heroe's sound The swiftest Horse is prais'd or Wrestler crown'd Feasts Wine and open Mirth or Myrtle Shades The Cares of Love or Tears of sighing Maids Unless all Matters I exactly hit What just Pretence have I to be a Wit What claim have I to the Poetick Name What fair Pretensions to put in for Fame Or why should I conceal my want of Skill Absurdly modest and be foolish still Rather than show my Want demand Supplies From richer Parts and so at last be Wise A Conick Story hates a Tragick Stile Bombast spoyls humer and distorts a Smile And Tragical Thyestes barbarous Feast Scorns Mean and Common words and hates a Jest Let every Subject have what fits it best Yet Comedy may be allow'd to rise And rattle in a Passion or Surprize And Tragedy in humble words must weep The Stile must suppliant seem and seem to creep Peleus and Telephus exil'd and poor Must leave their Flights and give their Bombast o're If they would keep their well-pleas'd Audience long And raise their just Resentments for their wrong 'T is not enough that Plays are neatly wrought Exactly form'd and of an even Plot They must be taking too Surprise and Seize And force our Souls which way the Writers please We laugh or weep as we see others do Our Souls agree and take their Passions too My grief with others just proportion bears To make me weep you must be first in Tears Then Telephus I can believe thy moan And think thy Miseries are all my own But if thy part be ill or acted ill Unheeding thy Complaint I sleep or smile Sad words suit well with Grief with Joy the loose Grave the Severe and Merry the Jocose 'T is Nature still that doth the Change begin She fashions and she forms our Souls within To all the Changes and the Turns of Fate Now screws our Minds to an unusual height And swells us into rage or bending low She cramps our Souls with dull contracting Woe She makes us stoop beneath a weighty wrong Then tells the various Passions with the Tongue Now if his Speech doth not his Fortune fit He will be hist by Gallery Box and Pit You must take care and use quite different words When Servants speak or their commanding Lords When grave old Men or head-strong Youths discourse When stately Matrons or a busy Nurse A cheating Tradesman or a labouring Clown A Greek or Asian bred at Court or Town Keep to old Tales or if you must have new Feign things coherent that may look like true If you would draw Achilles in disgrace Then draw Achilles as Achilles was Impatient fierce inexorable proud His Sword his Law his own right hand his God Medea must be furious she must rave Crafty Ixion a designing Knave Io a wandring Cow and Ino sad And poor Orestes melancholy mad But if you 'l leave those Paths where most have gone And dare to make a Person of your own Take care you still the same proportions strike Let all the Parts agree and be alike Unusual Subjects Sir 't is hard to hit It asks no common Pains nor common Wit Rather on Subjects known your Mind employ And take from Homer some old tales of Troy And bring those usual things again in view Than venture on a Subject wholly new Yet you may make these common Themes your own Unless you treat of things too fully known Show the same humors and that usual State Or word for word too faithfully translate Or else your Pattern so confin'dly choose That you are still condemn'd to follow close Or break all decent measures to be loose First strain no higher than your voice will hold Nor as that Cyclick writer did of old Begin my mighty Muse and boldly dare I 'le sing great Priam 's Fate and noble War What did He worth a Gape so large produce The travailing Mountain yields a silly Mouse Much better Homer who doth all things well Muse tell the Man for you can surely tell Who Troy once fall'n to many Countrys went And strictly view'd the Men and Government As one that knows the Laws of writing right He makes Light follow Smoak not Smoak the Light For streight how fierce Charybdis rolls along How Scylla roars thro all his wondrous Song Nor doth He that He might seem deeply read Begin the fam'd Return of Diomed From Meleager's death nor dives as far As Leda's Eggs For the beginning of the Trojan War He always hastens on to the Events And still the middle of the Tale presents As 't were the first then draws the Reader on Till the whole Story is exactly known And what he can't improve he lets alone And so joyns Lyes and Truth that every part agrees And seem no Fiction but a real Piece But Sir observe shame waits on the neglect This I and all as well as I expect If you would have a judging Audience stay Be pleas'd and clap and sit out all the Play Observe what Humor in each Age appears Then draw your fit and lively Characters And suit their changing Minds and Changing Years A Boy that just speaks plain and goes alone Loves childish Play-mates he is angry soon And pleas'd as soon and both for nothing still Changing his Humor various is his Will A Youth just loosned from his Tutor's care Leaves off his Books and follows Hound and Hare The Horse is his delight or Cards and Dice Rough to reproof and easy bent to Vice Inconstant eager haughty fierce and proud A very slow provider for his good And prodigal of his Coin and of his Blood The full grown Man doth aim at different ends He betters his Estate and gets him Friends He courts gay Honor and He fears to do What he must alter on a second view An Old man's Character is hit with ease For he
Thespis the first that did surprize the Age With Tragedy n'ere trod a decent Stage But in a Waggon drove his Plays about And show'd mean antick tricks to please the Rout His Songs uneven rude in every Part His Actors smutted and the Scene a Cart Next Aeschilus did greater Art express He built a Stage and taught them how to dress In decent motions He his Parts convey'd And made them look as great as those they play'd Next these Old Comedy did please the Age But soon their Liberty was turn'd to Rage Such Rage as Civil Power was forc'd to tame And by good Laws secure Mens injur'd Fame Thus was the Chorus lost Their railing Muse Grew silent when forbidden to abuse Our Latin Poets eager after Praise Have boldly ventur'd and deserv'd the Bays They left those Paths where all the Greeks have gone And dar'd to show some Actions of their own And vvould our Poets be inur'd to pain And vvhat they once have form'd file o're again Let it lie by them Cand revise vvith are Our Rome vvould be as fam'd for Wit as War Sirs damn those Rhymes that hasty Minds do give E're Time and Care have form'd them fit to live Let many a Day and many a Blot confine And many a Nail be par'd o're every Line Because Democritus once fondly taught Who ever heard He had one sober Thought That naked Nature with a frantick start Would Rhyme more luckyly than feeble Art And did allow none leave to tast a drop Of Helicon unless a crazy Fop The foppish humor now o're most prevails And few will shave their Beards or pair their Nails They shun Converse and fly to Solitude Seem frantick Sots and are design'dly rude For if they go but nasty if they gain The reputation of a crazy Brain Streight Poets too they must be thought by all Oh Block-head I that purge at Spring and Fall For else perhaps I had been fam'd for Rhymes And been the greatest Poet of the Times But I had rather keep that Sense I have Than to be thought a Poet Rhyme and Rave I 'le play the Whet stone useless and unfit To cut my self I 'le sharpen others Wit Unwriting I will teach them how to write What gives them Matter what exalts their Thoughts And what are Ornaments and what are Faults Of writing well these are the chiefest Springs To know the Nature and the use of Things Right judging Morals will the Subject show And when the Subject 's found Words freely flow He that can tell what Care our injur'd Fame And what our Mothers what our Sisters claim With what degrees of Zeal we should defend Our Country Fathers Brothers or a Friend What suits a Senator's what a Judge's care What Soldier 's what a Leader's in the War Secure of Honor he may boldly write For he is sure to draw the Image right 'T is my advice let every Painter place The Life before him that will hit the Face So let a Writer look o're Men to see What various Thoughts to various Kinds agree And thence the different Images derive And make the fit Expressions seem to live A Play exactly drawn tho often rough Without the Dress of Art to set it off Takes People more and more delight affords Than noisy Trifles and meer empty Words The Muses lov'd the Greeks and blest with Sense They freely gave them Wit and Eloquence In those They did Heroick fancies raise For they were covetous of nought but Praise But as for Us our Roman Youths are bred To Trades to cast Account to Write and Read Come hither Child suppose 't is Albine's Son Hold up thy Head take five from forty one And what remains just thirty six well done Add seven what makes it then just forty eight Ah thou must be a Man of an Estate And when this care for Gain all thoughts controuls When this base Rust hath crusted o're their Souls Ne're think that such will reach a noble hight These clogs must check these weights retard their flight Poets would profit or delight alone Or joyn both Profit and Delight in one Let all your Rules be short laid plainly down That docil Minds may comprehend them soon And faithful Memories retain with ease Short Precepts profit much as well as please For when we fill the narrow Mind too full It runs again out of the o're-charg'd Soul Besure what ever pleasant Tales you tell Be so like Truth that they may serve as well And do not Lamias eating Children feign Then show them whole and make them live again Our grave Men scorn the loose and meer jocose Our Youth despise the stiff and the morose But He 's the Man He with a Genius writes That takes them Both and profits and delights That in one Line instructs and pleases all That Book will easily be set to sale See distant Countrys spread the Author's name And send him down a Theme to future Fame Yet there are Faults and Men may sometimes Err And I 'le forgive I 'le not be too severe An Artist allways can't command his Harp But when he strikes a Flat He hears a Sharp The greatest Archers sometimes miss the Whites If numerous Graces shine in what he writes I 'le not condemn tho some few Faults appear Which common frailty leaves or want of Care But if tho warn'd He still repeats the same Who can endure and who forbear to blame Just as that Fidler must be call'd a Sot That always errs upon the self same Note So He that makes a Book one copious fault As Cherilus the greatest Dunce that ever wrote In whom if e're I see two lines of Wit I smile and wonder at the lucky hit But fret to find the mighty Homer dream Forget himself a-while and lose his Theme Yet if the work be long sleep may surprize And a short Nod creep o're the watchfull'st Eyes Poems like Pictures some when near delight At distance some some ask the clearest light And some the shade some Pictures please when new And some when old some bear a transient view Some bid the Men of Skill severely pry Some please but once some always please the Eye But you dear Sir tho you your self are wise Tho by your Father's care and kind advice Secure from Faults yet pray believe me this In other things a Mean may be allow'd Not Best may still be tolerable good A Common Lawyer though he cannot plead Like smooth Messala nor 's so deeply read As learn'd Casselius yet the Man may please Yet He may be in vogue and get his Fees But now the Laws of God and Man deny A middle State and Mean in Poetry For as at Treats or as at noble Feasts Bad Perfumes and bad Songs displease the Guests Because the Feast did not depend on these So Poetry a thing design'd to please Compos'd for meer delight must needs be still Or very good or scandalously ill He that 's unskilful will not toss a Ball Nor run nor wrestle