SATYR

Here? there? and every where? Some solemnities are near, That these changes strike mine ear. My pipe and I a partly shall bear. Look, see; (beshrew this tree,) What may all this wonder be? Pipe it, who that list for me: I'll fly out abroad, and see. That is CYPARISSUS face! And the dame hath SYRINX grace! Oh that PAN were now in place, Sure, they are of heavenly raze. Not so nimbly as your feet, When about the cream-bowls sweet, You, and all your Elves do meet. This is MAB the mistris-Faerie, That does nightly rob the dairy, And can hurt, or help the cherning, (As she please) without discerning. By PAN, and thou hast hit it right. Oh, hold, MAB: I sue. Pardon lady this wild strain, Common with the SYLVAN train, That do skip about this plain: Elves , apply your gyre again. And while some do hop the ring, Some shall play, and some shall sing, Weel express in every thing, Quasi Orion's ANNA. ORANAS well-coming. This is she, This is she, In whose world of grace Every season, person, place, That receive her, happy be, For with no less, Then Bringing with her the Prince, which is the greatest felicity of kingdoms. a kingdoms happiness, Does she private For house holds. Lares bless, And ours above the rest: By how much we deserve it least. Long live ORIANA To exceed (whom she succeeds) our late Diana. Not tell? Would, would, I could smile, At this old, and toothless wile. Lady, I have been no sleeper, She belies the noble keeper. Say, that here he Like the groves: And pursue no foreign loves, Is he therefore to be deemed, Rude, or savage? or esteemed, But a sorry entertainer, Because he is no common strainer: After painted Nymphs for favours, Or that in his garb he savours Little of the nicety, In the sprucer courtiery; As the rosary of kisses, With the oath that never misses, This, believe me on the breast , And then telling some men jest, Thinking to prefer his wit, Equal with his suit by it, I mean his clothes: No, no, no, Here does no such humour flow. He can neither bribe a grace, Nor encounter my lords face With a pliant smile, and flatter, Though this lately were some matter To the making of a courtier. Now he Hope's he shall resort there, Safer, and with more allowance; Since a hand hath governance, That hath given those customs chase, And hath brought his own in place. Oh that now a wish could bring, The godlike person of a king, Then should even Envy find, Cause of wonder at the mind Of our woodman: but lo, where His kingly image does appear, And is all this while neglected. Pardon (lord) you are respected Deep as is the Keepers heart, And as deer in every partly. See, for instance where he sends Here the Satire fetched out of the wood, the Lord Spencers eldest son, attired and ap pointed Like a huntsman. His son, his heir; who humbly bends Low, as is his father's earth, To the womb that gave you birth So he was directed first, Next to you, of whom the thirst Of seeing takes away the use Of that partly, should plead excuse For his boldness, which is less By his comely shamefacedness. Rise up, sir, I will betray, All I think you have to say; That your father gives you here, (Freely as to him you were) To the service of this Prince: And with you these instruments Of his wild and Sylvan trade, Better not ACTEON had. The bow was PHoeBES, and the horn, By ORION often worn: The dog of Sparta breed, and good, As can ring within a wood; Thence his name is: you shall try How he hunts instantly. But perhaps the Queen your mother, Rather does affect some other Sport, as coursing: we will prove Which her highness most does love. Satires let the woods resound, They shall have their welcome crowned, With a brace of bucks to ground. IF my outside move your laughter, Pray JOVE, my inside be thereafter. Queen, Prince, Duke, Earls, Countesses; you courtly Pearls: (And, I hope no mortal sin, If I put less Ladies in) Fair saluted be you all. At this time it does befall, We are the Huisher to a Morrise, (A kind of Masque) whereof good store is In the country hereabout, But this, the choice of all the rout. Who, because that no man sent them, Have God NOBODY to present them. These are things have no suspicion Of their ill doing; nor ambition Of their well: but as the Pipe Shall inspire them, mean to skip. They come to see, and to be seen, And though they dance afore the Queen, Ther's none of these does hope to come by Wealth, to built another Holmby: All those dancing days are done, Men must now have more then one Grace, to built their Fortune's on, Else our soles would sure have gone, All by this time to our feet. I not deny, where Graces meet In a man, that quality Is a graceful property: But when dancing is his best, (Beshrew me) I suspect the rest. But I am NOBODY, and my breath (Soon as it is born) hath death. Come on clowns, forsake your dumps, And bestir your hobnailed stumps, Do your worst, I'll undertake, Not a jerk you have shall make Any Lady here in love. Perhaps your Fool, or so, may move Some Ladies woman with a trick, And upon it she may pick A pair of revelling legs, or two, Out of you, with much ado. But see, the Hobbyhorse is forgotten. Fool, it must be your lot, To supply his want with faces, And some other Buffon graces, You know how; Piper play, And let no body hence away. ANd will you then, Mirror of Queens , depart? Shall nothing stay you? not my Master's heart? That pants to lose the comfort of your light, And see his Day ere it be old grow Night? You are a Goddess, and your will be done: Yet this our last hope is, that as the Sun Cheers objects far removed, as well as near; So, where so'ere you shine, you'll sparkle here. And you deer Lord, on whom my covetous eye Does feed it self, but cannot satisfy, Oh shoot up fast in spirit, as in years; That when upon her head proud Europe wears Her stateliest tire, you may appear thereon The richest gem, without a paragon. Shine bright and fixed as the Arctic star: And when slow Time hath made you fit for war, Look over the strict Ocean, and think where You may but led us forth, that grow up here Against a day, when our officious swords Shall speak our Actium better then our words. Till then, all good event conspire to crown Your parents Hope's, our zeal, and your renown. Peace usher now your steps, and where you come, Be Envy still struck blind, and Flattery dumb.