AUTUMN

Summa totalis I fear will prove him but a fool. Oh arrogance exceeding all belief! Summer my Lord, this saucy upstarted Jack, That now does rule the chariot of the Sun, And makes all stars derive their light from him, Is a most base insinuating slave, The son of parsimony, and disdain, One that will shine, on friends and foes alike, That under brightest smiles, hideth black showers: Whose envious breath does dry up springs and Lake's, And burns the grass, that beasts can get no food. Lascivious and intemperate he is. The wrong of Daphne is a well known tale: Eke evening he descends to Thetis lap, The while men think he baths him in the sea. Oh, but when he returns whence he came, Down to the West, then dawns his deity, Then doubled is the swelling of his looks; He over loads his car with Orient gems, And reins his fiery horses with rich pearl: He terms himself the God of Poetry, And sets wanton songs unto the Lute. Pleases your honour, heavens circumference Is not enough for him to hunt and range, But with those venom-breathed curs he leads, He comes to chase health from our earthly bounds: Each one of those foulmouthed mangy dogs Governs a day, (no dog but hath his day) And all the days by them so governed, The Dogdays hight, infectious fosterers Of meteors from carrion that arise, And putrified bodies of dead men, Are they engendered to that ugly shape, Being nought else but preserved corruption. T'is these that in the entrance of their reign The plague and dangerous agues have brought in. They are and bark at night against the Moon, For fetching in fresh tides to cleanse the streets. They vomit flames, and blast the ripened fruits: They are death's messengers unto all those, That sicken while their malice bears sway. Thou Coridon, why answerest not direct? I, I, such country buttoned caps as you, Do want no fetches to undo great towns. Thou wantest no liquour, nor no flesh and blood. I pray thee may I ask without offence? How many tons of wine hast in thy paunch? Me thinks, that, built Like a round church, Should yet have some of Julius Caesars wine: I warrant, 'twas not broached this hundred year. Servos fideles liberalitaes facit: Where on the contrary, servitutem: Those that attend vponilliberall Lords, Whose covetise yields nought else but fair looks, Even of those fair looks make their gainful use. For as in Ireland and in Denmark both Witches for gold will fell a man a wind, Which in the corner of a napkin wrapped, Shall blow him safe unto what coast he will: So make ill servants sale of their Lords wind, Which wrapped up in a piece of parchment, Blows many a knave forth danger of the law. On such conditions no crown will I take. I challenge Winter for my enemy, A most insaciate miserable carl, That, to fill up his garners to the brim, Cares not how he indammageth the earth: What poverty he makes it to endure! He over-bars the crystal streams with ye, That none but he and his may drink of them: All for a fowl Back-winter he lays up; Hard craggy ways, and uncouth slippery paths He frames, that passengers may slide and fallen: Who quaketh not, that hears but his name? Oh, but two sons he hath, worse then himself, Christmas the one, a pinchback, cutthroat churl, That keeps no open house, as he should do, Delights in no game or fellowship, Loves no good deeds, and hates talk, But sitteth in a corner turning Crabs, Or coughing over a warmed pot of Ale: Back-winter th'other, that's his none sweet boy, Who Like his father takes in all points, And self it is, compact of envious pride, A miscreant, born for a plague to men. A monster, that devoureth all he meets: Were but his father dead, so he would reign: Yea he would go goodneere, to deal by him, As Nabuchodonozors ungracious son, Evilmerodach by his father dealt: Who, when his sire was turned to and Ox, Full greedily suatcht up his sovereignty, And thought himself a king without control. So it fell out, seven years expir'de and gone, Nabuchodonozor came to his shape again, And dispossessed him of the regiment: Which my young prince no little grieving at, When that his father shortly after died, Fearing lest he should come from death again, As he came from and Ox to be a man, Wiled that his body spoylde of coverture, Should be cast forth into the open fields, For Birds and Ravens, to devour at will, Thinking if they bore every one of them, A bill full of his flesh into their nests, He would not rise, to trouble him in haste. Now I beseech your honour it may be so. Who treadeth not on stars when they are fallen? Who talketh not of states, when they are dead? A fool conceits no further then he sees, He hath no scence of ought, but what he feels. Thou shutst thy door, how should we beg of thee? No alms but thy sink carries from thy house. For feasts thou keepest none, cankers thou feedest: The worms will curse thy flesh another day, Because it yields them no fatter pray. It is the veriest Dog in Christendom. My Lord, you are too passionate without cause.