The Meditations... by John Donne

[Mr. Somalia]

I. MEDITATION.

 

VARIABLE, and therefore miserable condition of man! this minute I was well, and am ill, this minute. I am surprised with a sudden change, and alteration to worse, and can impute it to no cause, nor call it by any name. We study health, and we deliberate upon our meats, and drink, and air, and exercises, and we hew and we polish every stone that goes to that building; and so our health is a long and a regular work: but in a minute a cannon batters all, overthrows all, demolishes all; a sickness unprevented for all our diligence, unsuspected for all our curiosity; nay, undeserved, if we consider only disorder, summons us, seizes us, possesses us, destroys us in an instant. O miserable condition of man! which was not imprinted by God, who, as he is immortal himself, had put a coal, a beam of immortality into us, which we might have blown into a flame, but blew it out by our first sin; we beggared ourselves by hearkening after false riches, and infatuated ourselves by hearkening after false knowledge. So that now, we do not only die, but die upon the rack, die by the torment of sickness; nor that only, but are pre-afflicted, super-afflicted with these jealousies and suspicions and apprehensions of sickness, before we can call it a sickness: we are not sure we are ill; one hand asks the other by the pulse, and our eye asks our own urine how we do. O multiplied misery! we die, and cannot enjoy death, because we die in this torment of sickness; we are tormented with sickness, and cannot stay till the torment come, but pre-apprehensions and presages prophesy those torments which induce that death before either come; and our dissolution is conceived in these first changes, quickened in the sickness itself, and born in death, which bears date from these first changes. Is this the honour which man hath by being a little world, that he hath these earthquakes in himself, sudden shakings; these lightnings, sudden flashes; these thunders, sudden noises; these eclipses, sudden offuscations and darkening of his senses; these blazing stars, sudden fiery exhalations; these rivers of blood, sudden red waters? Is he a world to himself only therefore, that he hath enough in himself, not only to destroy and execute himself, but to presage that execution upon himself; to assist the sickness, to antedate the sickness, to make the sickness the more irremediable by sad apprehensions, and, as if he would make a fire the more vehement by sprinkling water upon the coals, so to wrap a hot fever in cold melancholy, lest the fever alone should not destroy fast enough without this contribution, nor perfect the work (which is destruction) except we joined an artificial sickness of our own melancholy, to our natural, our unnatural fever. O perplexed discomposition, O riddling distemper, O miserable condition of man!

[Mr. Somalia]

II. MEDITATION.

 

THE heavens are not the less constant, because they move continually, because they move continually one and the same way. The earth is not the more constant, because it lies still continually, because continually it changes and melts in all the parts thereof. Man, who is the noblest part of the earth, melts so away, as if he were a statue, not of earth, but of snow. We see his own envy melts him, he grows lean with that; he will say, another's beauty melts him; but he feels that a fever doth not melt him like snow, but pour him out like lead, like iron, like brass melted in a furnace; it doth not only melt him, but calcine him, reduce him to atoms, and to ashes; not to water, but to lime. And how quickly? Sooner than thou canst receive an answer, sooner than thou canst conceive the question; earth is the centre of my body, heaven is the centre of my soul; these two are the natural places of these two; but those go not to these two in an equal pace: my body falls down without pushing; my soul does not go up without pulling; ascension is my soul's pace and measure, but precipitation my body's. And even angels, whose home is heaven, and who are winged too, yet had a ladder to go to heaven by steps. The sun which goes so many miles in a minute, the stars of the firmament which go so very many more, go not so fast as my body to the earth. In the same instant that I feel the first attempt of the disease, I feel the victory; in the twinkling of an eye I can scarce see; instantly the taste is insipid and fatuous; instantly the appetite is dull and desireless; instantly the knees are sinking and strengthless; and in an instant, sleep, which is the picture, the copy of death, is taken away, that the original, death itself, may succeed, and that so I might have death to the life. It was part of Adam's punishment, In the sweat of thy brows thou shalt eat thy bread: it is multiplied to me, I have earned bread in the sweat of my brows, in the labour of my calling, and I have it; and I sweat again and again, from the brow to the sole of the foot, but I eat no bread, I taste no sustenance: miserable distribution of mankind, where one half lacks meat, and the other stomach!

[Mr. Somalia]

III. MEDITATION.

 

WE attribute but one privilege and advantage to man's body above other moving creatures, that he is not, as others, grovelling, but of an erect, of an upright, form naturally built and disposed to the contemplation of heaven. Indeed it is a thankful form, and recompenses that soul, which gives it, with carrying that soul so many feet higher towards heaven. Other creatures look to the earth; and even that is no unfit object, no unfit contemplation for man, for thither he must come; but because man is not to stay there, as other creatures are, man in his natural form is carried to the contemplation of that place which is his home, heaven. This is man's prerogative; but what state hath he in this dignity? A fever can fillip him down, a fever can depose him; a fever can bring that head, which yesterday carried a crown of gold five feet towards a crown of glory, as low as his own foot to-day. When God came to breathe into man the breath of life, he found him flat upon the ground; when he comes to withdraw that breath from him again, he prepares him to it by laying him flat upon his bed. Scarce any prison so close that affords not the prisoner two or three steps. The anchorites that barked themselves up in hollow trees and immured themselves in hollow walls, that perverse man that barrelled himself in a tub, all could stand or sit, and enjoy some change of posture. A sick bed is a grave, and all that the patient says there is but a varying of his own epitaph. Every night's bed is a type of the grave; at night we tell our servants at what hour we will rise, here we cannot tell ourselves at what day, what week, what month. Here the head lies as low as the foot; the head of the people as low as they whom those feet trod upon; and that hand that signed pardons is too weak to beg his own, if he might have it for lifting up that hand. Strange fetters to the feet, strange manacles to the hands, when the feet and hands are bound so much the faster, by how much the cords are slacker; so much the less able to do their offices, by how much more the sinews and ligaments are the looser. In the grave I may speak through the stones, in the voice of my friends, and in the accents of those words which their love may afford my memory; here I am mine own ghost, and rather affright my beholders than instruct them; they conceive the worst of me now, and yet fear worse; they give me for dead now, and yet wonder how I do when they wake at midnight, and ask how I do to-morrow. Miserable, and (though common to all) inhuman posture, where I must practise my lying in the grave by lying still, and not practise my resurrection by rising any more.

[Mr. Somalia]

IV. MEDITATION.

 

IT is too little to call man a little world; except God, man is a diminutive to nothing. Man consists of more pieces, more parts, than the world; than the world doth, nay, than the world is. And if those pieces were extended, and stretched out in man as they are in the world, man would be the giant, and the world the dwarf; the world but the map, and the man the world. If all the veins in our bodies were extended to rivers, and all the sinews to veins of mines, and all the muscles that lie upon one another, to hills, and all the bones to quarries of stones, and all the other pieces to the proportion of those which correspond to them in the world, the air would be too little for this orb of man to move in, the firmament would be but enough for this star; for, as the whole world hath nothing, to which something in man doth not answer, so hath man many pieces of which the whole world hath no representation. Enlarge this meditation upon this great world, man, so far as to consider the immensity of the creatures this world produces; our creatures are our thoughts, creatures that are born giants; that reach from east to west, from earth to heaven; that do not only bestride all the sea and land, but span the sun and firmament at once; my thoughts reach all, comprehend all. Inexplicable mystery; I their creator am in a close prison, in a sick bed, any where, and any one of my creatures, my thoughts, is with the sun, and beyond the sun, overtakes the sun, and overgoes the sun in one pace, one step, everywhere. And then, as the other world produces serpents and vipers, malignant and venomous creatures, and worms and caterpillars, that endeavour to devour that world which produces them, and monsters compiled and complicated of divers parents and kinds; so this world, ourselves, produces all these in us, in producing diseases, and sicknesses of all those sorts: venomous and infectious diseases, feeding and consuming diseases, and manifold and entangled diseases made up of many several ones. And can the other world name so many venomous, so many consuming, so many monstrous creatures, as we can diseases of all these kinds? O miserable abundance, O beggarly riches! how much do we lack of having remedies for every disease, when as yet we have not names for them? But we have a Hercules against these giants, these monsters; that is, the physician; he musters up all the forces of the other world to succour this, all nature to relieve man. We have the physician, but we are not the physician. Here we shrink in our proportion, sink in our dignity, in respect of very mean creatures, who are physicians to themselves. The hart that is pursued and wounded, they say, knows an herb, which being eaten throws off the arrow: a strange kind of vomit. The dog that pursues it, though he be subject to sickness, even proverbially, knows his grass that recovers him. And it may be true, that the drugger is as near to man as to other creatures; it may be that obvious and present simples, easy to be had, would cure him; but the apothecary is not so near him, nor the physician so near him, as they two are to other creatures; man hath not that innate instinct, to apply those natural medicines to his present danger, as those inferior creatures have; he is not his own apothecary, his own physician, as they are. Call back therefore thy meditation again, and bring it down: what's become of man's great extent and proportion, when himself shrinks himself and consumes himself to a handful of dust; what's become of his soaring thoughts, his compassing thoughts, when himself brings himself to the ignorance, to the thoughtlessness, of the grave? His diseases are his own, but the physician is not; he hath them at home, but he must send for the physician.

[Mr. Somalia]

V. MEDITATION.

 

AS sickness is the greatest misery, so the greatest misery of sickness is solitude; when the infectiousness of the disease deters them who should assist from coming; even the physician dares scarce come. Solitude is a torment which is not threatened in hell itself. Mere vacuity, the first agent, God, the first instrument of God, nature, will not admit; nothing can be utterly empty, but so near a degree towards vacuity as solitude, to be but one, they love not. When I am dead, and my body might infect, they have a remedy, they may bury me; but when I am but sick, and might infect, they have no remedy but their absence, and my solitude. It is an excuse to them that are great, and pretend, and yet are loath to come; it is an inhibition to those who would truly come, because they may be made instruments, and pestiducts, to the infection of others, by their coming. And it is an outlawry, an excommunication upon the patient, and separates him from all offices, not only of civility but of working charity. A long sickness will weary friends at last, but a pestilential sickness averts them from the beginning. God himself would admit a figure of society, as there is a plurality of persons in God, though there be but one God; and all his external actions testify a love of society, and communion. In heaven there are orders of angels, and armies of martyrs, and in that house many mansions; in earth, families, cities, churches, colleges, all plural things; and lest either of these should not be company enough alone, there is an association of both, a communion of saints which makes the militant and triumphant church one parish; so that Christ was not out of his diocess when he was upon the earth, nor out of his temple when he was in our flesh. God, who saw that all that he made was good, came not so near seeing a defect in any of his works, as when he saw that it was not good for man to be alone, therefore he made him a helper; and one that should help him so as to increase the number, and give him her own, and more society. Angels, who do not propagate nor multiply, were made at first in an abundant number, and so were stars; but for the things of this world, their blessing was, Increase; for I think, I need not ask leave to think, that there is no phoenix; nothing singular, nothing alone. Men that inhere upon nature only, are so far from thinking that there is any thing singular in this world, as that they will scarce think that this world itself is singular, but that every planet, and every star, is another world like this; they find reason to conceive not only a plurality in every species in the world, but a plurality of worlds; so that the abhorrers of solitude are not solitary, for God, and Nature, and Reason concur against it. Now a man may counterfeit the plague in a vow, and mistake a disease for religion, by such a retiring and recluding of himself from all men as to do good to no man, to converse with no man. God hath two testaments, two wills; but this is a schedule, and not of his, a codicil, and not of his, not in the body of his testaments, but interlined and postscribed by others, that the way to the communion of saints should be by such a solitude as excludes all doing of good here. That is a disease of the mind, as the height of an infectious disease of the body is solitude, to be left alone: for this makes an infectious bed equal, nay, worse than a grave, that though in both I be equally alone, in my bed I know it, and feel it, and shall not in my grave: and this too, that in my bed my soul is still in an infectious body, and shall not in my grave be so.

[UZTAAD]

what is this stuff mr somalia

[Mr. Somalia]

^^^

 

Nothing too special bro, except for the dazzling wordplay and subtle arguments...

[Mr. Somalia]

Satire 1

 

Away thou fondling motley humorist,

Leave mee, and in this standing wooden chest,

Consorted with these few bookes, let me lye

In prison, and here be coffin'd, when I dye;

Here are Gods conduits, grave Divines; and here

Natures Secretary, the Philosopher;

And jolly Statesmen, which teach how to tie

The sinewes of a cities mistique bodie;

Here gathering Chroniclers, and by them stand

Giddie fantastique Poets of each land.

Shall I leave all this constant company,

And follow headlong, wild uncertaine thee?

First sweare by thy best love in earnest

(If thou which lov'st all, canst love any best)

Thou wilt not leave mee in the middle street

Though some more spruce companion thou dost meet,

Not though a Captaine do come in thy way

Bright parcell gilt, with forty dead mens pay,

Nor though a briske perfum'd piert Courtier

Deigne with a nod, thy courtesie to answer,

Nor come a velvet Justice with a long

Great traine of blew coats, twelve, or fourteen strong,

Wilt thou grin or fawne on him, or prepare

A speech to court his beautious sonne and heire.

For better or worse take mee, or leave mee:

To take, and leave mee is adultery.

Oh monstrous, superstitious puritan,

Of refin'd manners, yet ceremoniall man,

That when thou meet'st one, with enquiring eyes

Dost search, and like a needy broker prize

The silke, and gold he weares, and to that rate

So high or low, dost raise thy formall hat:

That wilt consort none, untill thou have knowne

What lands hee hath in hope, or of his owne,

As though all thy companions should make thee

Jointures, and marry thy deare company.

Why should'st thou (that dost not onely approve,

But in ranke itchie lust, desire, and love

The nakednesse and barenesse to enjoy,

Of thy plumpe muddy whore, or prostitute boy)

Hate vertue, though shee be naked, and bare?

At birth, and death, our bodies naked are;

And till our Soules be unapparrelled

Of bodies, they from blisse are banished.

Mans first blest state was naked, when by sinne

Hee lost that, yet hee'was cloath'd but in beasts skin,

And in this course attire, which I now weare,

With God, and with the Muses I conferre.

But since thou like a contrite penitent,

Charitably warn'd of thy sinnes, dost repent

These vanities, and giddinesses, loe

I shut my chamber doore, and 'Come, lets goe.'

But sooner may a cheape whore, that hath beene

Worne by as many severall men in sinne,

As are black feathers, or musk-colour hose,

Name her childs right true father, 'mongst all those:

Sooner may one guesse, who shall beare away

Th'Infant of London, Heire to'an India:

And sooner may a gulling weather-Spie

By drawing forth heavens Scheame tell certainly

What fashion'd hats, or ruffles, or suits next yeare

Our subtile-witted antique youths will weare;

Then thou, when thou depart'st from mee, canst show

Whither, why, when, or with whom thou wouldst go.

But how shall I be pardon'd my offence

That thus have sinn'd against my conscience?

Now we are in the street; He first of all

Improvidently proud, creepes to the wall,

And so imprison'd, and hem'd in by mee

Sells for a little state his libertie;

Yet though he cannot skip forth now to greet

Every fine silken painted foole we meet,

He them to him with amorous smiles allures,

And grins, smacks, shrugs, and such an itch endures,

As prentises, or schoole-boyes which doe know

Of some gay sport abroad, yet dare not goe.

And as fidlers stop low'st, at highest sound,

So to the most brave, stoops hee nigh'st the ground.

But to a grave man, he doth move no more

Then the wise politique horse would heretofore,

Or thou O Elephant or Ape wilt doe,

When any names the King of Spaine to you.

Now leaps he upright, joggs me,'and cryes, 'Do'you see

Yonder well favour'd youth?' 'Which?' 'Oh, 'tis hee

That dances so divinely.' 'Oh,' said I,

'Stand still, must you dance here for company?'

Hee droopt, wee went, till one (which did excell

Th'Indians, in drinking his Tobacco well)

Met us; they talk'd; I whisper'd, 'Let us goe,

'T may be you smell him not, truely I doe.'

He heares not mee, but, on the other side

A many-colour'd Peacock having spide,

Leaves him and mee; I for my lost sheep stay;

He followes, overtakes, goes on the way,

Saying, 'Him whom I last left, all repute

For his device, in hansoming a sute,

To judge of lace, pinke, panes, print, cut and plight,

Of all the Court, to have the best conceit.'

'Our dull Comedians want him, let him goe;

But Oh, God strengthen thee, why stoop'st thou so?'

'Why? he hath travail'd.' 'Long?' 'No, but to me'

(Which understand none,) 'he doth seeme to be

Perfect French, and Italian.' I reply'd,

'So is the Poxe.' He answer'd not, but spy'd

More men of sort, of parts, and qualities;

At last his Love he in a windowe spies,

And like light dew exhal'd, he flings from mee

Violently ravish'd to his lechery.

Many were there, he could command no more;

He quarrell'd, fought, bled; and turn'd out of dore

Directly came to mee hanging the head,

And constantly a while must keepe his bed.

[Mr. Somalia]

Satire 2

 

Sir; though (I thanke God for it) I do hate

Perfectly all this towne, yet there's one state

In all ill things so excellently best,

That hate, towards them, breeds pitty towards the rest.

Though Poetry indeed be such a sinne

As I thinke that brings dearths, and Spaniards in,

Though like the Pestilence and old fashion'd love,

Ridlingly it catch men; and doth remove

Never, till it be sterv'd out; yet their state

Is poore, disarm'd, like Papists, not worth hate.

One,(like a wretch, which at Barre judg'd as dead,

Yet prompts him which stands next, and cannot reade,

And saves his life)gives ideot actors meanes

(Starving himselfe)to live by'his labor'd sceanes;

As in some Organ, Puppits dance above

And bellows pant below, which them do move.

One would move Love by rimes; but witchcrafts charms

Bring not now their old feares, nor their old harmes:

Rammes, and slings now are seely battery,

Pistolets are the best Artillerie.

And they who write to Lords, rewards to get,

Are they not like singers at doores for meat?

And they who write, because all write, have still

That excuse for writing, and for writing ill.

But hee is worst, who (beggarly) doth chaw

Others wits fruits, and in his ravenous maw

Rankly digested, doth those things out-spue,

As his owne things; 'and they are his owne, 'tis true,

For if one eate my meate, though it be knowne

The meate was mine, th'excrement is his owne.

But these do mee no harme, nor they which use

To out-doe Dildoes, and out-usure Jewes;

To'out-drinke the sea, to'out-sweare the Letanie;

Who with sinnes all kindes as familiar bee

As Confessors; and for whose sinfull sake

Schoolemen new tenements in hell must make:

Whose strange sinnes, Canonists could hardly tell

In which Commandements large receit they dwell.

But these punish themselves; the insolence

Of Coscus onely breeds my just offence,

Whom time (which rots all, and makes botches poxe,

And plodding on, must make a calfe an oxe)

Hath made a Lawyer, which was (alas) of late

But a scarce Poet; jollier of this state,

Then are new benefic'd ministers, he throwes

Like nets, or lime-twigs, wheresoere he goes,

His title'of Barrister, on every wench,

And wooes in language of the Pleas, and Bench:

'A motion, Lady.' 'Speake Coscus.' 'I'have beene

In love, ever since tricesimo' of the Queene,

Continuall claimes I'have made, injunctions got

To stay my rivals suit, that hee should not

Proceed.' 'Spare mee.' 'In Hillary terme I went,

You said, If I returne next size in Lent,

I should be in remitter of your grace;

In th'interim my letters should take place

Of affidavits--': words, words, which would teare

The tender labyrinth of a soft maids eare,

More, more, then ten Sclavonians scolding, more

Then when winds in our ruin'd Abbeyes rore.

When sicke with Poetrie,'and possest with muse

Thou wast, and mad, I hop'd; but men which chuse

Law practise for meere gaine, bold soule, repute

Worse then imbrothel'd strumpets prostitute.

Now like an owlelike watchman, hee must walke

His hand still at a bill, now he must talke

Idly, like prisoners, which whole months will sweare

That onely suretiship hath brought them there,

And to'every suitor lye in every thing,

Like a Kings favorite, yea like a King;

Like a wedge in a blocke, wring to the barre,

Bearing like Asses, and more shameless farre

Then carted whores, lye, to the grave Judge; for

*******y'abounds not in Kings titles, nor

Symonie'and Sodomy in Churchmens lives,

As these things do in him; by these he thrives.

Shortly ('as the sea) hee'will compasse all our land;

From Scots, to Wight; from Mount, to Dover strand.

And spying heires melting with luxurie,

Satan will not joy at their sinnes, as hee.

For as a thrifty wench scrapes kitching-stuffe,

And barrelling the droppings, and the snuffe,

Of wasting candles, which in thirty yeare

(Relique-like kept) perchance buyes wedding geare;

Peecemeale he gets lands, and spends as much time

Wringing each Acre, as men pulling prime.

In parchments then, large as his fields, hee drawes

Assurances, bigge, as gloss'd civill lawes,

So huge, that men (in our times forwardnesse)

Are Fathers of the Church for writing lesse.

These hee writes not; nor for these written payes,

Therefore spares no length; as in those first dayes

When Luther was profest, he did desire

Short Pater nosters, saying as a Fryer

Each day his beads, but having left those lawes,

Addes to Christs prayer, the Power and glory clause.

But when he sells or changes land, he'impaires

His writings, and (unwatch'd) leaves out, ses heires,

As slily'as any Commenter goes by

Hard words, or sense; or in Divinity

As controverters, in vouch'd texts, leave out

Shrewd words, which might against them cleare the doubt.

Where are those spred woods which cloth'd heretofore

Those bought lands? not built, not burnt within dore.

Where's th'old landlords troops, and almes? In great hals

Carthusian fasts, and fulsome Bachanalls

Equally'I hate; meanes blesse; in rich mens homes

I bid kill some beasts, but no Hecatombs,

None starve, none surfet so; But (Oh) we'allow

Good workes as good, but out of fashion now,

Like old rich wardrops; but my words none drawes

Within the vast reach of th'huge statute lawes.

[Mr. Somalia]

Satire 3

 

Kind pity chokes my spleen; brave scorn forbids

Those tears to issue which swell my eyelids;

I must not laugh, nor weep sins and be wise;

Can railing, then, cure these worn maladies?

Is not our mistress, fair Religion,

As worthy of all our souls' devotion

As virtue was in the first blinded age?

Are not heaven's joys as valiant to assuage

Lusts, as earth's honour was to them? Alas,

As we do them in means, shall they surpass

Us in the end? and shall thy father's spirit

Meet blind philosophers in heaven, whose merit

Of strict life may be imputed faith, and hear

Thee, whom he taught so easy ways and near

To follow, damn'd? Oh, if thou dar'st, fear this;

This fear great courage and high valour is.

Dar'st thou aid mutinous Dutch, and dar'st thou lay

Thee in ships' wooden sepulchres, a prey

To leaders' rage, to storms, to shot, to dearth?

Dar'st thou dive seas, and dungeons of the earth?

Hast thou courageous fire to thaw the ice

Of frozen North discoveries? and thrice

Colder than salamanders, like divine

Children in th' oven, fires of Spain and the Line,

Whose countries limbecs to our bodies be,

Canst thou for gain bear? and must every he

Which cries not, "Goddess," to thy mistress, draw

Or eat thy poisonous words? Courage of straw!

O desperate coward, wilt thou seem bold, and

To thy foes and his, who made thee to stand

Sentinel in his world's garrison, thus yield,

And for forbidden wars leave th' appointed field?

Know thy foes: the foul devil, whom thou

Strivest to please, for hate, not love, would allow

Thee fain his whole realm to be quit; and as

The world's all parts wither away and pass,

So the world's self, thy other lov'd foe, is

In her decrepit wane, and thou loving this,

Dost love a wither'd and worn strumpet; last,

Flesh (itself's death) and joys which flesh can taste,

Thou lovest, and thy fair goodly soul, which doth

Give this flesh power to taste joy, thou dost loathe.

Seek true religion. O where? Mirreus,

Thinking her unhous'd here, and fled from us,

Seeks her at Rome; there, because he doth know

That she was there a thousand years ago,

He loves her rags so, as we here obey

The statecloth where the prince sate yesterday.

Crantz to such brave loves will not be enthrall'd,

But loves her only, who at Geneva is call'd

Religion, plain, simple, sullen, young,

Contemptuous, yet unhandsome; as among

Lecherous humours, there is one that judges

No wenches wholesome, but coarse country drudges.

Graius stays still at home here, and because

Some preachers, vile ambitious bawds, and laws,

Still new like fashions, bid him think that she

Which dwells with us is only perfect, he

Embraceth her whom his godfathers will

Tender to him, being tender, as wards still

Take such wives as their guardians offer, or

Pay values. Careless Phrygius doth abhor

All, because all cannot be good, as one

Knowing some women whores, dares marry none.

Graccus loves all as one, and thinks that so

As women do in divers countries go

In divers habits, yet are still one kind,

So doth, so is Religion; and this blind-

ness too much light breeds; but unmoved, thou

Of force must one, and forc'd, but one allow,

And the right; ask thy father which is she,

Let him ask his; though truth and falsehood be

Near twins, yet truth a little elder is;

Be busy to seek her; believe me this,

He's not of none, nor worst, that seeks the best.

To adore, or scorn an image, or protest,

May all be bad; doubt wisely; in strange way

To stand inquiring right, is not to stray;

To sleep, or run wrong, is. On a huge hill,

Cragged and steep, Truth stands, and he that will

Reach her, about must and about must go,

And what the hill's suddenness resists, win so.

Yet strive so that before age, death's twilight,

Thy soul rest, for none can work in that night.

To will implies delay, therefore now do;

Hard deeds, the body's pains; hard knowledge too

The mind's endeavours reach, and mysteries

Are like the sun, dazzling, yet plain to all eyes.

Keep the truth which thou hast found; men do not stand

In so ill case, that God hath with his hand

Sign'd kings' blank charters to kill whom they hate;

Nor are they vicars, but hangmen to fate.

Fool and wretch, wilt thou let thy soul be tied

To man's laws, by which she shall not be tried

At the last day? Oh, will it then boot thee

To say a Philip, or a Gregory,

A Harry, or a Martin, taught thee this?

Is not this excuse for mere contraries

Equally strong? Cannot both sides say so?

That thou mayest rightly obey power, her bounds know;

Those past, her nature and name is chang'd; to be

Then humble to her is idolatry.

As streams are, power is; those blest flowers that dwell

At the rough stream's calm head, thrive and do well,

But having left their roots, and themselves given

To the stream's tyrannous rage, alas, are driven

Through mills, and rocks, and woods, and at last, almost

Consum'd in going, in the sea are lost.

So perish souls, which more choose men's unjust

Power from God claim'd, than God himself to trust.

[Mr. Somalia]

Satire 4

 

Well; I may now receive, and die; My sinne

Indeed is great, but I have beene in

A Purgatorie, such as fear'd hell is

A recreation to,'and scant map of this.

My minde, neither with prides itch, nor yet hath been

Poyson'd with love to see, or to bee seene,

I had no suit there, nor new suite to shew,

Yet went to Court; But as Glaze which did goe

To'a Masse in jest, catch'd, was faine to disburse

The hundred markes, which is the Statutes curse,

Before he scapt, So'it pleas'd my destinie

(Guilty'of my sin of going,) to thinke me

As prone to'all ill, and of good as forget-

full, as proud, as lustfull, and as much in debt,

As vaine, as witlesse, and as false as they

Which dwell at Court, for once going that way.

Therefore I suffer'd this; Towards me did runne

A thing more strange, then on Niles slime, the Sunne

E'r bred; or all which into Noahs Arke came;

A thing, which would have pos'd Adam to name;

Stranger then seaven Antiquaries studies,

Then Africks Monsters, Guianaes rarities.

Stranger then strangers; One, who for a Dane,

In the Danes Massacre had sure beene slaine,

If he had liv'd then; And without helpe dies,

When next the Prentises 'gainst Strangers rise.

One, whom the watch at noone lets scarce goe by,

One, to'whom th'examining Justice sure would cry,

'Sir, by your priesthood tell me what you are.'

His cloths were strange, though coarse; and black, though bare;

Sleevelesse his jerkin was, and it had beene

Velvet, but 'twas now (so much ground was seene)

Become Tufftaffatie; and our children shall

See it plaine Rashe awhile, then nought at all.

This thing hath travail'd, and saith, speakes all tongues,

And only know'th what to all States belongs;

Made of th'Accents, and best phrase of all these,

He speakes one language; If strange meats displease,

Art can deceive, or hunger force my tast,

But Pedants motley tongue, souldiers bumbast,

Mountebankes drugtongue, nor the termes of law

Are strong enough preparatives, to draw

Me to beare this: yet I must be content

With his tongue, in his tongue, call'd complement:

In which he can win widdowes, and pay scores,

Make men speake treason, cosen subtlest whores,

Out-flatter favorites, or outlie either

Jovius, or Surius, or both together.

He names mee,'and comes to mee; I whisper, 'God!

How have I sinn'd, that thy wraths furious rod,

This fellow chuseth me?' He saith, 'Sir,

I love your judgement; Whom doe you prefer,

For the best linguist?' And I seelily

Said, that I thought Calepines Dictionarie;

'Nay, but of men, most sweet Sir?' Beza then,

Some Jesuites, and two reverend men

Of our two Academies, I nam'd; There

He stopt mee,'and said, 'Nay, your Apostles were

Good pretty linguists, and so Panurge was;

Yet a poore gentleman, all these may passe

By travaile.' Then, as if he would have sold

His tongue, he prais'd it, and such wonders told

That I was faine to say, 'If you'had liv'd, Sir,

Time enough to have beene Interpreter

To Babells bricklayers, sure the Tower had stood.'

He adds, 'If of court life you knew the good,

You would leave lonenesse.' I said, 'Not alone

My lonenesse is. But Spartanes fashion,

To teach by painting drunkards, doth not tast

Now; Aretines pictures have made few chast;

No more can Princes courts, though there be few

Better pictures of vice, teach me vertue.'

He, like to'a high stretcht lute string squeakt, 'O Sir,

'Tis sweet to talke of Kings.' 'At Westminster,'

Said I, 'The man that keepes the Abbey tombes,

And for his price doth with who ever comes,

Of all our Harries, and our Edwards talke,

From King to King and all their kin can walke:

Your eares shall heare nought, but Kings; your eyes meet

Kings only; The way to it, is Kingstreet.'

He smack'd, and cry'd, 'He's base, Mechanique, coarse,

So'are all your Englishmen in their discourse.

Are not your Frenchmen neate?' 'Mine? as you see,

I'have but one Frenchman, looke, hee followes mee.'

'Certes they'are neatly cloth'd; I,'of this minde am,

Your only wearing is your Grogaram.'

'Not so Sir, I have more.' Under this pitch

He would not flie; I chaff'd him; But as Itch

Scratch'd into smart, and as blunt iron ground

Into an edge, hurts worse: So, I (foole) found,

Crossing hurt mee; To fit my sullennesse,

He to another key, his stile doth addresse,

And askes, 'What newes?' I tell him of new playes.

He takes my hand, and as a Still, which staies

A Sembriefe, 'twixt each drop, he nigardly,

As loth to'enrich mee, so tells many'a lie.

More then ten Hollensheads, or Halls, or Stowes,

Of triviall houshold trash he knowes; He knowes

When the Queene frown'd, or smil'd, and he knowes what

A subtle States-man may gather of that;

He knowes who loves; whom; and who by poyson

Hasts to an Offices reversion;

He knowes who'hath sold his land, and now doth beg

A licence, old iron, bootes, shooes, and egge-

shels to transport; Shortly boyes shall not play

At span-counter, or blow-point, but they pay

Toll to some Courtier;'And wiser then all us,

He knowes what Ladie is not painted; Thus

He with home-meats tries me; I belch, spue, spit,

Looke pale, and sickly, like a Patient; Yet

He thrusts me more; And as if he'undertooke

To say Gallo-Belgicus without booke

Speakes of all States, and deeds, that have been since

The Spaniards came, to the losse of Amyens.

Like a bigge wife, at sight of loathed meat,

Readie to travaile: So I sigh, and sweat

To heare this Makeron talke: In vaine; for yet,

Either my humour, or his owne to fit,

He like a priviledg'd spie, whom nothing can

Discredit, Libells now 'gainst each great man.

He names a price for every office paid;

He saith, our warres thrive ill, because delai'd;

That offices are entail'd, and that there are

Perpetuities of them, lasting as farre

As the last day; And that great officers,

Doe with the Pirates share, and Dunkirkers.

Who wasts in meat, in clothes, in horse, he notes;

Who loves Whores, who boyes, and who goats.

I more amas'd then Circes prisoners, when

They felt themselves turne beasts, felt my selfe then

Becomming Traytor, and mee thought I saw

One of our Giant Statutes ope his jaw

To sucke me in; for hearing him, I found

That as burnt venom'd Leachers doe grow sound

By giving others their soares, I might growe

Guilty, and he free: Therefore I did shew

All signes of loathing; But since I am in,

I must pay mine, and my forefathers sinne

To the last farthing; Therefore to my power

Toughly'and stubbornly'I beare this crosse; But the'houre

Of mercy now was come; He tries to bring

Me to pay'a fine to scape his torturing,

And saies, 'Sir, can you spare me?' I said, 'Willingly.'

'Nay, Sir, can you spare me'a crown?' Thankfully I

Gave it, as Ransome; But as fidlers, still,

Though they be paid to be gone, yet needs will

Thrust one more jigge upon you: so did hee

With his long complementall thankes vexe me.

But he is gone, thankes to his needy want,

And the prerogative of my Crowne: Scant

His thankes were ended, when I, (which did see

All the court fill'd with more strange things then hee)

Ran from thence with such or more hast, then one

Who feares more actions, doth make from prison.

At home in wholesome solitarinesse

My precious soule began, the wretchednesse

Of suiters at court to mourne, and a trance

Like his, who dreamt he saw hell, did advance

It selfe on mee; Such men as he saw there,

I saw at court, and worse, and more; Low feare

Becomes the guiltie, not th'accuser; Then,

Shall I, nones slave, of high borne, or rais'd men

Feare frownes? And, my Mistresse Truth, betray thee

To th'huffing braggart, puft Nobility?

No, no, Thou which since yesterday hast beene

Almost about the whole world, hast thou seene,

O Sunne, in all thy journey, Vanitie,

Such as swells the bladder of our court? I

Thinke he which made your waxen garden, and

Transported it from Italy to stand

With us, at London, flouts our Presence, for

Just such gay painted things, which no sappe, nor

Tast have in them, ours are; And naturall

Some of the stocks are, their fruits, ******* all.

'Tis ten a clock and past; All whom the Mues,

Baloune, Tennis, Dyet, or the stewes,

Had all the morning held, now the second

Time made ready, that day, in flocks, are found

In the Presence, and I, (God pardon mee.)

As fresh, and sweet their Apparrells be, as bee

The fields they sold to buy them;'For a King

Those hose are,'cry the flatterers; And bring

Them next weeke to the Theatre to sell;

Wants reach all states; Me seemes they doe as well

At stage, as court; All are players; who e'r lookes

(For themselves dare not goe) o'r Cheapside books,

Shall finde their wardrops Inventory. Now,

The Ladies come; As Pirats, which doe know

That there came weak ships fraught with Cutchannel,

The men board them; and praise, as they thinke, well,

Their beauties; they the mens wits; Both are bought.

Why good wits ne'r weare scarlet gownes, I thought

This cause, These men, mens wits for speeches buy,

And women buy all reds which scarlets die.

He call'd her beauty limetwigs, her haire net;

She feares her drugs ill laid, her haire loose set.

Would not Heraclitus laugh to see Macrine,

From hat, to shooe, himselfe at doore refine,

As if the Presence were a Moschite,'and lift

His skirts and hose, and call his clothes to shrift,

Making them confesse not only mortall

Great staines and holes in them; but veniall

Feathers and dust, wherewith they fornicate;

And then by Durers rules survay the state

Of his each limbe, and with strings the odds tries

Of his neck to his legge, and wast to thighes.

So in immaculate clothes, and Symetrie

Perfect as circles, with such nicetie

As a young Preacher at his first time goes

To preach, he enters, and a Lady which owes

Him not so much as good will, he arrests,

And unto her protests protests protests

So much as at Rome would serve to have throwne

Ten Cardinalls into th'Inquisition;

And whisperd 'by Jesu',so'often,that A

Pursevant would have ravish'd him away

For saying of our Ladies psalter; But 'tis fit

That they each other plague, they merit it.

But here comes Glorius that will plague them both,

Who, in the other extreme, only doth

Call a rough carelessnesse, good fashion;

Whose cloak his spurres teare; whom he spits on

He cares not; His ill words doe no harme

To him; he rusheth in, as if 'Arme, arme,'

He meant to crie; And though his face be'as ill

As theirs which in old hangings whip Christ, yet still

He strives to looke worse, he keepes all in awe;

Jeasts like a licenc'd foole, commands like law.

Tyr'd, now I leave this place, and but pleas'd so

As men which from gaoles to'execution goe,

Goe through the great chamber (why is it hung

With the seaven deadly sinnes?); Being among

Those Askaparts, men big enough to throw

Charing Crosse for a barre, men that doe know

No token of worth, but 'Queenes man', and fine

Living, barrells of beefe, flaggons of wine;

I shooke like a spyed Spie. Preachers which are

Seas of Wit and Arts, you can, then dare,

Drowne the sinnes of this place, for, for mee

Which am but a scarce brooke, it enough shall bee

To wash the staines away; Though I yet

With Macchabees modestie, the knowne merit

Of my worke lessen: yet some wise man shall,

I hope, esteeme my writs Canonicall.

[Mr. Somalia]

Satire 5

 

Thou shalt not laugh in this leafe, Muse, nor they

Whom any pity warmes; He which did lay

Rules to make Courtiers, (hee being understood

May make good Courtiers, but who Courtiers good?)

Frees from the sting of jests all who'in extreme

Are wrech'd or wicked: of these two a theame

Charity and liberty give me. What is hee

Who Officers rage, and Suiters misery

Can write, and jest? If all things be in all,

As I thinke, since all, which were, are, and shall

Bee, be made of the same elements:

Each thing, each thing implyes or represents.

Then man is a world; in which, Officers

Are the vast ravishing seas; and Suiters,

Springs; now full, now shallow, now drye; which, to

That which drownes them, run: These selfe reasons do

Prove the world a man, in which, officers

Are the devouring stomacke, and Suiters

Th'excrements, which they voyd. All men are dust;

How much worse are Suiters, who to mens lust

Are made preyes? O worse then dust, or wormes meat,

For they do'eate you now, whose selves wormes shall eate.

They are the mills which grinde you, yet you are

The winde which drives them; and a wastfull warre

Is fought against you, and you fight it; they

Adulterate lawe, and you prepare their way

Like wittals; th'issue your owne ruine is.

Greatest and fairest Empresse, know you this?

Alas, no more then Thames calme head doth know

Whose meades her armes drowne, or whose corne o'rflow:

You Sir, whose righteousnes she loves, whom I

By having leave to serve, am most richly

For service paid, authoriz'd, now beginne

To know and weed out this enormous sinne.

O Age of rusty iron! some better wit

Call it some worse name, if ought equall it;

Th'iron Age _that_ was, when justice was sold; now

Injustice is sold dearer farre. Allow

All demands, fees, and duties; gamsters, anon

The mony which you sweat, and sweare for, is gon

Into'other hands: So controverted lands

Scape, like Angelica, the strivers hands.

If Law be in the Judges heart, and hee

Have no heart to resist letter, or fee,

Where wilt thou'appeale? Powre of the Courts below

Flow from the first maine head, and these can throw

Thee, if they sucke thee in, to misery,

To fetters, halters; But if th'injury

Steele thee to dare complaine, Alas, thou go'st

Against the stream, when upwards: when thou'art most

Heavy'and most faint; and in these labours they,

'Gainst whom thou should'st complaine, will in the way

Become great seas, o'r which, when thou shalt bee

Forc'd to make golden bridges, thou shalt see

That all thy gold was drown'd in them before;

All things follow their like, only who have may'have more.

Judges are Gods; he who made and said them so,

Meant not that men should be forc'd to them to goe,

By meanes of Angels; When supplications

We send to God, to Dominations,

Powers, Cherubins, and all heavens Courts, if wee

Should pay fees as here, daily bread would be

Scarce to Kings; so 'tis. Would it not anger

A Stoicke, a coward, yea a Martyr,

To see a Pursivant come in, and call

All his cloathes, Copes; Bookes, Primers; and all

His Plate, Challices; and mistake them away,

And aske a fee for comming? Oh, ne'r may

Faire lawes white reverend name be strumpeted,

To warrant thefts: she is established

Recorder to Destiny, on earth, and shee

Speakes Fates words, and but tells us who must bee

Rich, who poore, who in chaires, who in jayles:

Shee is all faire, but yet hath foule long nailes,

With which she scracheth Suiters; In bodies

Of men, so'in law, nailes are th'extremities,

So Officers stretch to more then Law can doe,

As our nailes reach what no else part comes to.

Why bar'st thou to yon Officer? Foole, Hath hee

Got those goods, for which erst men bar'd to thee?

Foole, twice, thrice, thou'hast bought wrong,'and now hungerly

Beg'st right; But that dole comes not till these dye.

Thou'had'st much, and lawes Urim and Thummim trie

Thou wouldst for more; and for all hast paper

Enough to cloath all the great Carricks Pepper.

Sell that, and by that thou much more shalt leese,

Then Haman, when he sold his Antiquities.

[Paragon]

Well thanks, Mr. Somalia. Been reading this secretly lately instead of going off to other parts of SOL.

 

Solitude is a torment which is not threatened in hell itself.