HORACE

To thee whose forehead swells with Roses, Whose most haunted bower Gives life & sent to every flower, Whose most adored name incloses, Things abstruse, deep and divine, Whose yellow tresses shine, Bright as Eoan fire. Oh me thy Priest inspire. For I to thee and thine immortal name, In-in-in golden tunes, For I to thee and thine immortal name— In-sacred raptures flowing, flowing, swimming, swimming: In sacred raptures swimming, Immortal name, game, dame, tame, lame, lame, lame, Pux, hath, shame, proclaim, o— In Sacred raptures flowing, will proclaim, not— Oh me thy Priest inspire! For I to thee and thine immortal name, In flowing numbers filled with spright and flame, Good, good, in flowing numbers filled with spright & flame. It must have been in the divine liquour of Pernaessus, then in which, I know you would scarce have pledged me, but come sweet rogue, fit, fit, fit. Its no matter, empty thy sack anon, but come here first honest rogue, come. Dam me ift be not the best that ever came from me, if I have any judgement, look sir, 'tis and Epithalamium for Sir Walter Terrels wedding, my brains have given assault to it but this morning. Nay good rogue mark, for they are the best lines that ever I drew. Mark, to thee whose forehead swells with Roses. Push, away, away, its proper, beside 'tis and elegancy to say the before head swells. Bright as Eoan fire, Oh me thy Priest inspire! For I to thee and thine immortal name— mark this. In flowing numbers filled with sprite and am. For I to thee and thine immortal name, In flowing numbers filled with sprite and flame, To thee Loves mightiest King, Himen o Himen does our chaste Muse sing. Mark now deer Asinius. Let these virgins quickly see thee, Leading out the Bride, Though their blushing cheeks they hide, Yet with kisses will they fee thee, To untie their Virgin zone, They grieve to lie alone. Yet with kisses will they fee thee, my Muse has marched (deer roagu ) no arder yet: but how is't? how is't? nay pre thee good Asini S deal plainly, do not flatter me, come, how?— Nay look you Sir, and the follow a troop of other rich and laboured conceits, o the end shall be admirable! but how is't sweet Bubo, how, how? You would seen my Acrostics? Th'ast a Copy of mine Odes to, hast not Bubo? A pox on him poor braineles Rook: and you re member, I told him his wit lay at pawn with his new Sat tin suit, and both would be lost, for not fetching home by a day. Nay sirrah the Palinode, which I mean to stitch to my Revels, shall be the best and ingenious piece that ever I sweated for; stay rogue, I'll fat thy spleen and make it plump with laughter. Puh my friends. Farthel, away, 'tis my packet; here lies entombed the loves of Knights and Earls, here 'tis, here 'tis, here 'tis, Sir Walter Terils letter to me, and my answer to him: I no sooner opened his letter, but there appeared to me three glow rious Angels, whom I adorned, as subjects do their Soon reigns: the honest knight Angles for my acquaintance, with such golden baits—but why dost laugh my good rogue? how is my answer, prithee, how, how? But how dost Like the Knights inditing? I, I, I, excellent sumpter horses, carry good clothes; but honest rogue, come, what news, what news abroad? I have herd a the horses walking a h top of Pauls. Bubo they must press more valiant wits than their own to do it: me that stage? would, would, I'll start thence poor cop per-lace workmasters, that dare play me: I can bring (& that they quake at) a prepared troop of gallants, who for my sake shall distaste every unsalted line, in their y-blowne Comedies That same Crispinus is the silliest Dor, and Faninus the slightest cob-web-lawne pierce of a Poet, o God! Why should I care what every Dor does buz. Incredulous ears, it is a crown to me. That the best judgements can report me wronged. I think but what they are, and am not moved. The one a light ptuous Reveler, The other, a strange arrogating puff, Both impudent, and arrogant enough. Yes, they're mine own. Peace, tread so tly, hide my Paper; who's this so early? Some of my rooks, some of my gulls? Who's there? st ay, tread softly: What Terill on my life: who's there? my gown sweet rogue, so, come up, come in. Oh, God save you gallants. Good Bubo read some book and give us leave — To see my fate, that when I dip my pen In distilde Roses, and do strive to dreine, Out of mine Ink all gall; that when I weigh Each sillable I write or speak, because Mine enemies with sharp and searching eye Look through & through me, carving my poor labours Like and Anatomy: O heaven to see, That when my lines are measured out as straight As even Parallels, 'tis strange that still, Still some imagine they are drawn awe y. The error is not mine, but in their eye, That cannot take proportions. 'Tis true. Crispinus. Dear Faninus. Hear me, I can— Deliver me your hands, I love you both, As deer as my own soul, prove me, and when I shall traduce you, make me the scorn of men. Then it must needs be a sweet book, he would feign perfume his ignorance. Gods so, what mean you to let this fellow dog you into my Chamber? Yes Captain this is my poor lodging. To do you pleasure Captain I will, but when there Dear Captain but one word. Captain Tucca, but half a word in your ear. Captain I know upon what even bases I stand, and therefore— With all my heart captain Tucca, and with you too, I'll say my hand under your feet, to keep them from aching. No Captain, I'll wear any thing. If I can found retreat to my wits, with whom this leader is in skirmish, I'll end within this hour. Dear Captain. No, they have choked me with mine own disgrace, Which (fools) isle spit again even in your face. It's well Sir, I would strength to bear yours me thinks; before God you are grown a piece of a Critist, since you fell in to my hands: ah little rogue, your wit has picked up her crumb pretty and well. Well, away deer Asinius, deliver this letter to the young Gallant Drus , he that fell so strongly in love with me yesternight. Foh come, your great bellied wit mu long for every thing too; why you R oak, I have a set of letters ready starched to my hands, which to any fresh suited gallant that but newly enters his name into my roll, I send the next morning, ere his ten a clock dream has rise from him, only with clap king my hand to't, that my Novice shall start, ho and his hair stand and end, when he sees the sudden flash of my writing; what you pretty Diminutive rogue, we must have false fierce to amaze these spangle babies, these true heirs of Ma Jus ice Shallow. Away, and, stay: here be Epigrams upon Tucca, di vulge these among the gallants; as for Crispinus, that Cris pin-asse and Fannius his Play-dresser; who (to make the Muses believe, their subjects ears were starved and that there was a dearth of Poefie) cut and Innocent More i'th middle, to serve him in twice; & when he had done, made Poules-worke of it, as for these Twins these Poet- : Their Mimic tricks shall serve With mirth to feast our Muse, while their own starve. Well thought off, marry at Sir Vaughans lodging the Welsh knight, I have composed a love-letter for the Gall lants worship, to his Rosamond: the second, Mistress Mini ver, because she does not think so soundly of his am English as he could wish; I would gulled his Knightship here to his face, yet have given charge to his winking understanding not to per ceiue it: nay Gods so, away deer Bubo. The Muses birds the Bees were hived and fled, Us in our cradle, there by prophesying; That we to learned ears should sweetly sing, But to the vulger and adulterate brain, Should loath to prostitute our Virgin strain. No, our sharp pen shall keep the world in awe, Horace thy Poesy, wormwood wreathes shall wear, We hunt not for men's loves but for their fear. According to my instructions. Quintus, Horacius, Flaccus. You mean to speak bitterly: Leave it to my judge meant. Who, the bald Knight Sir Vaughan? Bubo, herein you blaze your ignorance. For if of all the bodies parts, the head Be the most royal: if discourse, w to, Judgement, And all our understanding faculties, Fit there in their high Court of Parliament, Enacting laws to sway this humorous world: This little I'll of Man: needs must that crown, Which stands upon this supreme head, he fair, And held invaluable, and that crown's the Hair: The head that wants this honour stands awry, Is hare in nam e and in authority. Hair, 'tis the robe which curious nature weaves, To hang upon the head: and does adorn, Our bodies in the first hour we are horn: God does bestow that garment: when we die, That (Like a soft and silken Canon ) Is still spread over us; n spite of death Our hair grows in our graven, and that alone Looks fresh, when all our other beauty's gone. The excellence of Hair, in this shines l ere, That the four El ments take pride to wear The fashion of it: when Fire most bright does burn, The flames to golden locks do strive to When her lascivious arms the Water hurls, About the shores wast, her sleek head she curls: And rorid clouds being sucked into the Air, When down they melt, hangs Like fine silver hair. You see the Earth (whose head so oft it sho ne) Frighted to feel her locks sorudely orne, Stands with her hair and end, and (thus afraid ) Turns every hair to a green naked blade. Beside, when (struck with gr efe) we long to die, We spoil that most, which most does beau fie, We r and this Head-tyre off. I thus conclude, Cullors set cullors out; our eyes judge right, Of vice or virtue by their opposite: So, if fair hair to beauty and such grace, Baldness must needs be ugly, vile and base. Yes Captain, I would played Zulziman there. Why Captain these are Epigrams composed on you. Captain, you do me wrong thus to disgrace me. How now? what ailest though , that thou look' to so pay? Rhymes 'tis a challenge sent to you. He says here you divulged my Epigrams. You see he dares but dare you answer him? Dear Bubo, thou shalt answer him; our credits Lie pawned upon thy resolution, Thy vallor must redeem them; charge thy spirits, To wait more cl see, and near thee: if he kill thee, I'll not sur iue; into one Lottery. We'll cast our fates; together live and die. Hold Captain, 'tis known that Horace is valiant, & a man of the sword. Honoured Captain. Captain, I'm sorry that you lay this wrong. So close unto your heart: deer Captain think I writ ut of hight blood, which (now) being cold, I could be pleased (to please you) to quaff down, The po soned Ink, in which I dipped your name. Hence forth I'll rather breath out S l ecismes (To do which Idem as soon speak blasphemy) Than with my tongue or pen to wound your worth, Believe it noble Captain; it to me Shall be a Crown, to crown your acts with praise, Out of your hate, your love I'll strong lie raze. With all my soul deer Captain. Captain, if I do— Bubo, we follow Captain. Remember where to meet me. This is excellent, all will come out now. I'll face some of you for this, when you shall not budge. O gentlemen, I am slain, o S we art hyt'd to mur der me, to murder me, to murder me? Sir Vaughan. Oh hold more to sacred beauty's. Why, would you make me thus the ball of scorn? What could I do, out of a joust revenge, But bring them to the Stage? they envy me because I hold more worthy company. a nius. Oh thou my Muse! I did it to retire me from the world; And turn my Muse into a Timonist, Loathing the general Leprozie of Sin, Which Like a plague runs through the souls of men: I did it but to— Ooh— I'll swear till my hair stands vpan end, to be rid of this sting, o this sting. I never did it by Parnassus. By Apollo, Helicon, the Muses (who march three and three in a rank) and by all that belongs to Pernassus, I swear all this. In flowing numbers filled with sprite and flame, To thee. A pox upon him: by the white & soft hand of Minerva, I'll make him the most ridiculous: dam me if I bring not's humorath stage: &—scum vy limping tongued captain, poor grea j buff lerkin, hang him: 'tis out of his Element to tram duce me: I am too well ranked Asinius to be stabbed with his dudgeon wit: sirrah, I'll compose and Epigram, upon him, shall go thus— Hide my shoulders in't. And I'll set out my wits, Baldness the Theme? My words shall flow hie in a silver stream. Thanks good Captain. Dam me, if ever I traduced your name, What imputation can you charge me with? Captain. Dare defend baldness, which our conquering Muse Has beaten down so flat? Well, we will go, And see what weapons their weak wits do bring; If sharp, we'll spread a large and nobler wing; Tucca, here lies thy Peace: war roars again; My Sword shall never cut thee, but my pen. Gentlemen, I am black and blew the breadth of a groat. Sir Vaughan, noble Captain, Gentlemen, Crispinus, deer De et us o r deem me, Out of this infamou —by God by l sum— I confess Captain, I followed this suit hard. Whose most haunted bower, Gives life and sent to every flower, Whose most adored name incloses, Things abstruse, deep and divine. Whose yellow tresses shine, Bright as fire. Yes honoured Captain, I have ears at will. A pox, a this Tobacco. I'll put on wings. By Jesu within this hour, save you Captain Tucca. Never Captain I thank God. Oh I beseech your Majesty, rather then thus to be net ed, I'll would my Satires coat pulled over mine ears, and be turned out a the nine Muses Service. Parchment Captain? 'tis Pe petuana I assure you.