OCTAVIO

Whose own voice does allow That Subjects should to those who re Supr me, Bend, as to God, (all King being Like to h ) Not Kings of Ceremony. But show Like common men. We owe thee loyal hearts, and those weel pay, Each minute (Mirror of Kings.) Here are the Names f bold conspirators, (Young Catiline, and far more desperate) Who in your Father's days kindled the fires Of here R bellion. Who knows that? embers in dead Ashes lie. King, Set thy hand to this let raytors die. Found ollicie. If wisely 'tis well done. The course yowl take deer Lord. Peace. First, beat all Taverns down then, Souls are lost (Being drowned in Surfeits) on that seventh day most. Stay (best of Kings) mine own hand shall set down What laws thou madest first day thou worst a Crown. Begin, begin thy week. So so, Monday. I have writ it down my liege. Oh for a pen of gold! Yowl have no bribes. Yet termtime all they year! A good strong law, suit cannot now cost deer. I'm at bribes, and wrangling done presently. Thy monday's task is done: whats next? Poor wretches pine, So are they left: tot'h next. Fast as my pen can trot. Soldiers are down too. Scholars languish in beggery-So: Thy Fridays law is writ; for Saturday, what? What uffians this? How King? Well, well, it shall. Our swan turns crow, poisond with one drop of gall. Thine own laws from thine own mouth, weel proclaim, if thine own words thou e'a st, be't thine own shame. I fear deep whirlpools though it run smooth above. The picture of thy state, (drawn by thy self,) This is that book of statutes, were enacted In the high Parliament of thy royal thoughts Where wisdom was the speaker. And because Thy subjects shall not be abused by laws Wrapped up in racters, crabbed and unknown, These thine own language speak. What says the King? Like cob-w bbe in owl rooms, through which great flies Break through, the less being caught bith wing, there ies. No no, thy laws fix full in thy sighed, Hangs a table up. (Like seamarks,) that if this great ship of sway And kingly ventures, lose her constant way. Ith bottomless gulf of state, (bea en by the storms Of youthful folly, raging in monstrous forms) She may be saved from sinking and from rack, (S ee worser by this compass, for the points of it Shall guide her so, rock she cannot split. These sports to please A Princes eyes? Oh fie (Prince) fie! In thy court painted monsters, they come not here, Ride forth, thou shalt meet Giants every where. Me thinks (young Lords) your souls being new refined With beams of honour, should not be declin'de To sports so low and vulgar: but since the King Of birds (the Eagle) lets you spread a wing So near his own, you should put up such game As fits and Eagle, and pursue the same. And not Like ravens, kites, or painted Jays So'are high, yet light on dunghills, for stinking preys. Most fit for Kings. Were I (before his eyes) To present objects, they should all be rare, Of Roman triumphs, laden with the spoils of war: Or Lions, and wild-bears killed by active force: Or sea-fights: or land battles on foot, or horse: Such sights as these, kindle in Kings brave fire, And meeting spirits that dare mount, mount'em higher, Where pish pastimes lay our souls down flat, Groveling on earth, base and effemminate. I marry my liege. These are Kings sports indeed. Now by my life I have patient stood too long. To see rich merit and love, paid with base wrong: Learning! and Arms! and Traffic! the triple wall That fortifies a Kingdom, raze em down All! This Seaman, (he that dearest earns his bred) Had rigged and manned 4 Galleys bravely furnished, With Soldiers, Rowers, and Fireworks for a Sea-fight. 'Tis cruelty too much, and too much shame That one of your high birth, youth, beauty, name, And virtues shining bright, should hence be sent (Like some offender into banishment) Abused by a King, and his luxurious train, Of parasites, knaves, & fools, (a kingdoms bane,) For them, by him not card for; you came not so, But as his bride, his Queen, and bedfellow. If he pursue, These godless courses, best we leave him too, That land to it self must a quick downeul bring, Whose King has lost all, but the name of King. If now that ar a ust King, keep thy word, With thy poor subjects. This is thy day to hear the poor men cry: And yonders crying e ough, at thy Court got S; Five hundred heads, and scarce good would S, Yet haberdashers too, of all trades some, Crying out they are undone. Marry, look: by such as you are, who go gay, Weare't out, book down more, set to their hands but never pay; Never in deer years was there such complaining Of poor starved servants, or (when plagues are reigning) Mourn orphans so and widows, as those do That owe these sorrowful papers. I'll tell thee how: are any here in debt To Merchant's, Mercers, Tailors? let'em jet In their own satins, pay for what they would ane, And these will go less brave, tother less complain. The mighty wrongs the weak, the rich the poor, This man should have his own, could he greaze more His too-fat lawyer; that wretch for's coat does sue, But his coat's gone, and his skin flayed off too, I st his purse be overmatched: these gross impure And rank diseases, long unto thy cure, Thy word's in pawn fort, these are the poors cries, How wilt thou stop their throats? Hang they! any halters here list so set down? This lawbook speaks not so, yet 'tis thine own. Yes do. If you burn all the week, burn Saturday too: Do one good days-deed first, read poor men's plaints. I warrant thee isle save mine. Holy Saint pardon me, ( good father, my brain So wild is I forgotten thee, but isle to him again, 'Tis but and old men head off. King take it, isle speak whilst this stands on my shoulders. And honest man, thou 'st have this, o I beseek thy attention to this Reverend sub Prior, Who plains against disorders of this House; Where once Devotion dwelled and Charity, Ther's Drunkenness now, Gluttony, and Lechery, Tell thou the Tale. Woe to those days, When to raise Upstarts, the poor CHURCH decays. All stark mad: let us be wise, And fly from buidldings falling to'th surer side, If we can his safety, if not, (our own provide.) The graund-Pyrat's here. Heres the Devils bellows, kindled all those fires, Which now are burning: This is the Snake, whose sting (being kept warm in the bosom of a King) Struck him to'th heart: This he, who by the force Of his damned Arguments, was the first divorce, Of the Kings Love, this is Bohor. Sirrah, where the King? Wult thou betray him Slave? This caitiff does delude you, tortur him. Into thy bosom fly I. To fight for thee till I can fight no more: Hadst thou possessed this Kingly spirit before, We never had left thee: what makes Judas here? I, Bohor. I tell thee tha'rt a traitor & isle have Thy head off, or thou mine. Thart a slave? Thou seest Duke what to trust too. Beheaded. Why sends your Highness, thus these Friars to play Your heralds parts in publishing this peace? Oraculous is thy voice. Marshal they in. Young Lords, thus to scorn Soldiers, 'tis ill done. Can we be dumb and see this? Must I be then cashierde too? marry and shall. To save thy sinking Honour, I'll send hence These men with thanks, with praise, and recompense. Wut rob the Church too, (Now th'ast nothing left scarce for thy self?) Let ill-Newes fly together, thou art full of tears, But I more full of woes, of cares, of fears. You needs no Tailors now, but Armourers, Theres a deer reckoning for you all to pay, About a Lady; the Calabrian Duke Is on a March: the Lightning flashes now, Yowl hear the crack anon. Before the star To call whom up, the wakeful Cock does sing Be twice more seen abroad; At your City gates The Devils pu seu nt will beat (the Canon) Will these brisk leaders (stuck with Estridge-feathers ) Go brave your enemy now, and beat back? Save thee, thy Kingdom, and themselves from wrack? And the Gallows shall have thee, else hang me. Away Are the rest tanc? Will you fight or no?