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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE LAST INSTRUCTIONS TO A PAINTER by ANDREW MARVELL

Poet Analysis

First Line: AFTER TWO SITTINGS, NOW, OUR LADY STATE
Last Line: GIVE US THIS COURT AND RULE WITHOUT A GUARD.
Subject(s): CHARLES II, KING OF ENGLAND (1630-1685); PAINTINGS AND PAINTERS;
After two sittings, now, our Lady State,
To end her Picture, does the third time waite.
But ere thou falst to worke, first, @3Painter@1, see
It be'nt too slight grown or too hard for thee.
Canst thou paint without colors? Then 'tis right:
For so wee too without a Fleet can fight.
Or canst thou dawb a sign-post, and that ill?
'Twill suit our great debauch and little skill.
Or hast thou mark'd how antique Masters limn
The Aly roof with Snuffe of Candle dimme,
Sketching in shady smoke prodigious tooles?
'Twill serve this race of Drunkards, Pimps, and Fooles.
But if to match our crimes thy skill presumes,
As @3th' Indians@1, draw our Luxury in Plumes;
Or if to score out our compendious Fame,
With @3Hooke@1, then, through the @3Microscope@1 take aim,
Where, like the new @3Controller@1, all men laugh
To see a tall Lowse brandish the white staffe.
Else shalt thou oft thy guiltlesse Pencill curse,
Stamp on thy Pallat, nor perhaps the worse.
The Painter so, long having vext his cloth,
Of his Hound's mouth to feign the raging froth,
His desp'rate Pencill at the work did dart:
His Anger reacht that rage which past his Art;
Chance finisht that which Art could but begin,
And he sat smiling how his Dog did grin.
So mayst thou perfect, by a lucky blow,
What all thy softest touches can not do.
Paint then @3St. Albans@1, full of soup and gold,
The new @3Court's@1 patern, Stallion of the old.
Him neither Wit nor Courage did exalt,
But Fortune chose him for her pleasure Salt.
Paint him with Dray-man's shoulders, Butcher's Mien,
Member'd like Mules, with elephantine Chine.
Well he the title of @3St. Albans@1 bore,
For @3Bacon@1 never study'd Nature more.
But Age, allaying now that youthful heat,
Fits him in @3France@1 to play at Cards and treat.
Draw no Commission, lest the @3Court@1 should lie,
That disavowing Treaty asks supply.
He needs no Seale, but to @3St. James's@1 Lease,
Whose briches wear the Instrument of Peace;
Who, if the @3French@1 dispute his Pow'r, from thence
Can streight produce them a Plenipotence.
Nor fears he @3The most Christian@1 should trepan
Two Saints at once, @3St. Germain, St. Alban@1,
But thought the golden Age was now restor'd,
When Men and Women took each others Word.
Paint then again @3Her Highnesse@1 to the life,
Philosopher beyond @3Newcastle's@1 Wife.
She, nak'd, can @3Archimedes@1 self put down,
For an experiment upon the Crown.
She perfected that Engine, oft assayd,
How after childbirth to renew a Maid,
And found how Royall Heirs might be matur'd
In fewer Months than Mothers once indur'd.
Hence @3Crowder@1 made the rare Inventresse free
Of's @3Highnesse's@1 Royall Society:
Happy'st of Women, if she were but able
To make her glassen @3Dukes@1 once malleable!
Paint her with Oyster lip, and Breath of Fame,
Wide Mouth, that Sparagus may well proclaime:
With @3Chanc'lors@1 Belly, and so large a Rump
There, not behind the Coach, her Pages jump.
Expresse her studying now, if @3China@1 clay
Can without breaking venom'd Juice convay,
Or how a mortall Poyson she may draw
Out of the cordiall meale of the Cacao.
Witnesse, ye starrs of Night, and thou the pale
Moon, that or'ecome with the sick steam didst faile;
Ye neighbring Elms, that your green leavs did shed,
And Fawns, that from the Wombe abortive fled!
Not unprovok'd, she trys forbidden Arts,
But in her soft Breast Love's hid Cancer smarts,
While she revolves at once @3Sidney's@1 disgrace
And her self scorn'd for emulous @3Denham's@1 Face.
And nightly hears the hated Guards away
Galloping with the @3Duke@1 to other Prey.
Paint @3Castlemain@1 in Colors that will hold
(Her, not her Picture, for she now grows old).
She through her Lackyes drawers, as he ran,
Discern'd Love's cause, and a new Flame began.
Her wonted Joys, thenceforth, and @3Court@1 she shuns,
And still within her Mind the Footman runs:
His brazen Calves, his brawny Thighs (the Face
She slights), his Feet shap'd for a smoother race.
Poring within her Glasse she readjusts
Her Lookes and oft-try'd Beauty now distrusts;
Fears lest he scorn a Woman once assayd,
And now first wisht she e'er had been a Maid.
Great Love, how dost thou triumph, and how reigne,
That to a Groom couldst humble her disdaine!
Stript to her Skin, see how shee stooping stands,
Nor scorns to rub him down with those faire Hands,
And washing (lest the Scent her Crime disclose)
His sweaty Hooves, tickles him 'twixt the Toes.
But envious Fame, too soon, begun to note
More gold in's fob, more lace upon his coat:
And he unwary, and of Tongue too fleet,
No longer could conceale his Fortune sweet.
Justly the Rogue was whipt in Porters Den,
And @3Jermin@1 streight has leave to come agen.
Ah, @3Painter@1, now could @3Alexander@1 live,
And this @3Campaspe@1 thee, @3Apelles@1, give!
Draw next a Paire of Tables op'ning, then
The @3House of Commons@1 clat'ring like the Men.
Describe the @3Court@1 and @3Country@1, both set right,
On opposite points, the black against the white:
Those having lost the Nation at Trick-track,
These now advent'ring how to win it back.
The Dice betwixt them must the Fate divide
(As Chance doth still in Multitudes decide).
But here the @3Court@1 does its advantage know,
For the Cheat @3Turner@1 for them both must throw.
As some from Boxes, he so from the Chaire
Can strike the Die and still with them goes share.
Here, @3Painter@1, rest a little, and survey
With what small Arts the publick game they play.
For so too @3Rubens@1 with affaires of State
His lab'ring Pencill oft would recreate.
The close @3Caball@1 markt how the Navy eats
And thought all lost that goes not to the cheats;
So therefore secretly for Peace decrees,
Yet as for Warre the @3Parlament@1 would squeeze,
And fix to the Revenue such a summe
Should @3Goodrick@1 silence, and strike @3Paston@1 dumbe,
Should pay land Armyes, should dissolve the vain
@3Commons@1, and ever such a @3Court@1 maintaine;
@3Hide's@1 Avarice, @3Bennet's@1 Luxury should suffice:
And what can these defray but the @3Excise?@1
@3Excise@1, a Monster worse than ere before
Frighted the Midwife and the Mother tore,
A thousand Hands she has, and thousand Eyes:
Breks into shops and into Cellars pryes,
With hundred rows of teeth the Sharke exceeds,
And on all trade like Casawar shee feeds:
Chops off the piece wheres'ere she close the Jaw,
Else swallows all down her indented maw.
She stalks all day in Streets conceal'd from sight
And flyes like Batts with leathern wings by night,
She wastes the Country and on Cityes preys:
Her, of a female @3Harpy@1, in Dog-dayes,
Black @3Birch@1, of all the earthborn race most hot
And most rapacious, like himself begot,
And, of his Bratt inamour'd, as't increast,
Bougred in incest with the mungrell Beast.
Say, @3Muse@1, for nothing can escape thy Sight
(And, @3Painter@1, wanting other, draw this Fight)
Who in an @3English Senate@1 fierce debate
Could raise so long for this new whore of State.
Of early Wittalls first the Troop march'd in,
For Diligence renown'd and Discipline:
In loyall haste they left young Wives in Bed,
And @3Denham@1 these by one consent did head.
Of the old Courtiers next a Squadron came,
That sold their @3Master@1, led by @3Ashburnham@1.
To them succeeds a despicable Rout,
But know the Word, and well could face about:
Expectants pale, with hopes of Spoyle allur'd,
Though yet but Pioneers, and led by @3Stew'rd@1.
Then damning Cowards rang'd the vocall Plain:
Wood these commands, Knight of the Horn and Cane.
Still his hook-shoulder seems the blow to dread,
And under's Armpit he defends his Head.
The posture strange men laught at of his Poll,
Hid with his Elbow like the Spice he stole.
Headlesse @3St. Dennis@1 so his Head does beare,
And both of them alike @3French Martyrs@1 were.
Court Officers, as us'd, the next place tooke
And follow'd @3Fox@1, but with disdainfull looke.
His Birth, his Youth, his Brokage all dispraise,
In vain, for always he commands that payes.
Then the Procurers under @3Prodgers@1 fil'd,
Gentlest of men, and his Lieutenant mild,
@3Bronkard@1, Love's squire; through all the field array'd
No Troop was better clad, nor so well pay'd.
Then marcht the Troop of @3Clarindon@1, all full,
Haters of Fowle, to teale preferring Bull:
Grosse Bodyes, grosser Minds, and grossest cheats,
And bloated @3Wrenn@1 conducts them to their seats.
@3Charlton@1 advances next, whose coife does aw
The @3Miter Troop@1, and with his looks gives Law.
He marcht with beaver cockt of Bishop's brimme
And hid much Fraud under an aspect grimme.
Next th' Lawyers mercenary band appeare,
@3Finch@1 in the Front, and @3Thurland@1 in the reare.
The Troop of Privilege, a Rabble bare
Of Debtors deep, fell to @3Trelawny's@1 care.
Their Fortunes error they supply'd in Rage,
Nor any further would than these ingage.
Then march't the Troop whose valiant Acts before
(Their publick Acts) oblig'd them still to more.
For Chimney's sake they all @3Sir Poole@1 obey'd,
Or in his absence him that first it lay'd.
Then comes the thrifty Troop of Privateers,
Whose Horses each with other interferes:
Before them @3Higgons@1 rides with brow compact,
Mourning his @3Countesse@1, anxious for his @3Act@1.
@3Sir Frederick@1 and @3Sir Salomon@1 draw Lotts
For the command of Politicks or Sotts;
Thence fell to words, but, quarrell to adjourn,
Their friends agreed they should command by turn.
@3Cart'ret@1 the rich did the Accountants guide,
And in ill @3English@1 all the World defy'd.
The @3Papists@1, but of these the @3House@1 had none;
Else @3Talbot@1 offer'd to have led them on.
Bold @3Duncom@1 next, of the Projectors chief:
And old @3Fitzharding@1 of the @3Eaters Beef@1.
Late and disorder'd out the Drinkers drew;
Scarce them their Leaders, they their Leaders knew.
Before them enter'd, equall in Command,
@3Apsly@1 and @3Brothrick@1, marching hand in hand.
Last then but one @3Powell@1, that could not ride,
Led the @3French@1 Standard, weltring in his stride.
He to excuse his slownesse, truth confest
That 'twas so long before he could be drest.
The Lords' Sons, last, all these did reinforce:
@3Cornb'ry@1 before them manag'd Hobby-horse.
Never, before nor since, a Host so steel'd
Troopt on to muster in the @3Tuttle-field@1.
Not the first cock-horse that with cork were shod
To rescue @3Albermarle@1 from the Sea-Cod:
Nor the late Feather-men, whom @3Tomkins@1 fierce
Shall with one Breath, like thistle-down disperse.
All the two @3Coventrys@1 their Gen'ralls chose,
For One had much, the other nought to lose;
Nor better choice all accidents could hit,
While @3Hector Harry@1 steers by @3Will the Witt@1.
They both accept the Charge with merry glee
To fight a Battell from all Gun-shot free.
Pleas'd with their numbers, yet in Valor wise,
They feigne a Parly better to surprize:
They, that ere long shall the rude @3Dutch@1 upbraid,
Who in a time of Treaty durst invade.
Thick was the Morning, and the @3House@1 was thin,
The @3Speaker@1 early, when they all fell in.
Propitious @3Heavens@1, had not you them crost,
@3Excise@1 had got the Day, and all been lost!
For th' other Side all in loose Quarters lay,
Without Intelligence, Command, or Pay:
A scatter'd Body, which the Foe ne'r try'd,
But oftner did among themselves divide,
And some ran ore each night while others sleep
And undescry'd return'd ere Morning peep.
But @3Strangeways@1, that all night still walkt the round
(For vigilance and Courage both renown'd)
First spy'd the Enemy and gave th' Alarme:
Fighting it single till the rest might arm.
Such @3Roman Cocles@1 strid: before, the Foe;
The falling Bridge behind, the Stream below,
Each ran, as Chance him guides, to sev'rall Post,
And all to patern his Example boast.
Their former Trophies they recall to mind,
And to new edge their angry Courage grind.
First enter'd forward @3Temple@1, Conqueror
Of @3Irish@1 Cattell and @3Sollicitor@1;
Then daring @3Seymor@1, that with Spear and Shield
Had stretcht the monster @3Patent@1 on the field;
Keen @3Whorwood@1 next, in aid of Damsell fraile,
That pierc't the Gyant @3Mordant@1 through his Maile,
And surly @3Williams@1, the Accountants bane,
And @3Lovelace@1 young, of Chimney men the Cane.
Old @3Waller@1, Trumpet-gen'rall, swore he'd write
This Combat truer than the navall Fight.
Of Birth, State, Wit, Strength, Courage, @3How'rd@1 presumes
And in his Breast wears many @3Montezumes@1.
These and some more with single Valor stay
The adverse troops and hold them all at bay.
Each thinks his person represents the whole,
And with that thought does multiply his Soule,
Believes himself an Army, theirs one Man,
As eas'ly conquer'd, and believing, can;
With Heart of Bees so full, and Head of Mites,
That each, though duelling, a Battell fights.
Such once @3Orlando@1, famous in Romance,
Broach't whole Brigades like Larks upon his Lance.
But strength at last still under Number bows,
And the faint sweat trickled down @3Temple's@1 Brows.
Ev'n iron @3Strangeways@1, chafing yet gave back,
Spent with Fatigue, to breath a while Toback.
When, marching in, a seas'nable Recruit
Of Citizens and Merchants held dispute;
And, charging all their pikes, a sullen Band
Of @3Presbyterian Switzers@1 made a Stand.
Nor could all these the Field have long maintain'd
But for th' unknown Reserve that still remain'd:
A grosse of @3English@1 Gentry, nobly born,
Of clear Estates, and to no Faction sworn;
Dear Lovers of their @3King@1, and Death to meet
For Countryes Cause that glorious think and sweet;
To speak not forward, but in Action brave,
In giving gen'rous, but in Counsell grave;
Candidly credulous for once, nay twice,
But sure the @3Devill@1 can not cheat them thrice.
The Van and Battell, though retiring, falls
Without disorder in their Intervalls,
Then, closing all in equall Front, fall on,
Led by great @3Garway@1 and great @3Littleton.
Lee@1, ready to obey or to command,
Adjutant-Generall was still at hand.
The martiall standard, @3Sands@1 displaying, shows
@3St. Dunstan@1 in it tweaking @3Satan's@1 Nose.
See sudden chance of Warre! To paint or write
Is longer Work and harder than to fight.
At the first Charge the Enemy give out
And the @3Excise@1 receives a totall Rout.
Broken in Courage, yet the Men the same,
Resolve henceforth upon their other Game:
Where force had fail'd, with Stratagem to play,
And what Haste lost recover by Delay.
@3St. Albans@1 streight is sent to, to forbeare,
Lest the sure Peace forsooth too soon appear.
The Seamen's clamour to three ends they use:
To cheat their Pay, feigne want, the @3House@1 accuse.
Each day they bring the Tale, and that too true,
How strong the @3Dutch@1 their Equipage renew.
Mean time through all the Yards their Orders run
To lay the Ships up, cease the keels begun.
The Timber rots, and uselesse Ax doth rust,
Th' unpractis'd Saw lyes bury'd in its Dust;
The busy Hammer sleeps, the Ropes untwine;
The Stores and Wages all are Mine and Thine.
Along the Coast and Harbors they take care
That Money lack, nor Forts be in repaire.
Long thus they could against the @3House@1 conspire,
Load them with Envy, and with Sitting tire:
And the lov'd @3King@1, and never yet deny'd,
Is brought to beg in publick and to chide.
But when this fail'd, and Months enow were spent,
They with the first dayes proffer seem content:
And to Land-tax from the @3Excise@1 turn round,
Bought off with Eighteen-hundred-thousand pound.
Thus like faire Thieves, the @3Commons@1 purse they share,
But all the Members' Lives consulting spare.
Blither than Hare that hath escap'd the hounds,
The @3House@1 prorogu'd, the @3Chancellor@1 rebounds.
Not so decrepit AEson, hasht and stew'd
With bitter Herbs, rose from the Pot renew'd,
And with fresh Age felt his glad limms unite.
His Gout (yet still he curst) had left him quite.
What Frosts to Fruit, what Ars'nick to the Rat,
What to faire @3Denham@1 mortall Chocolat,
What an Account to @3Cart'ret@1, that, and more,
A @3Parliament@1 is to the @3Chancellor@1.
So the sad tree shrinks from the Morning's Eye,
But blooms all night and shoots its branches high.
So, at the Sun's recesse, againe returns
The Comet dread, and Earth and Heaven burns.
Now @3Mordant@1 may within his Castle tow'r
Imprison Parents, and the Child deflowre.
The @3Irish@1 herd is now let loose, and comes
By millions over, not by @3hecatombs@1.
And now, now, the @3Canary Patent@1 may
Be broacht againe for the great Holy-Day.
See how he reigns in her new Palace culminant,
And sits in state divine like @3Jove@1 the fulminant!
First @3Buckingham@1, that durst to him rebell,
Blasted with Lightning, struck with Thunder fell.
Next the twelve @3Commons@1 are condemn'd to grone,
And roule in vain at @3Sisyphus's@1 Stone.
But still he car'd, while in Revenge he brav'd,
That Peace secur'd and Money might be sav'd;
Gain and Revenge, Revenge and Gain are sweet:
United most, else when by turns they meet.
@3France@1 had @3St. Albans@1 promis'd (so they sing),
@3St. Albans@1 promis'd him, and he the @3King@1.
The Count forthwith is order'd all to close,
To play for @3Flanders@1 and the stake to lose,
While, chain'd together, two Ambassadors
Like Slaves shall beg for Peace at @3Holland's@1 doores.
This done, among his @3Cyclopes@1 he retires
To forge new Thunder and inspect their Fires.
The @3Court@1, as once of War, now fond of Peace,
All to new sports their wanton fears release.
From @3Greenwich@1 (where Intelligence they hold)
Comes News of pastime martiall and old:
A Punishment invented first to aw
Masculine Wives, transgressing Natures Law,
Where, when the brawny Female disobeys,
And beats the Husband till for peace he prays,
No concern'd Jury for him damage finds,
Nor partiall Justice her Behaviour binds,
But the just Street does the next House invade,
Mounting the neighbor Couple on lean Jade;
The Distaffe knocks, the grains from Kettle fly,
And Boys and Girls in Troops run hooting by.
Prudent Antiquity, that knew by Shame,
Better than Law, domestick Crimes to tame,
And taught Youth by Spectacle innocent!
So thou and I, Dear @3Painter@1, represent,
In quick effigie, others faults, and feigne,
By making them redic'lous, to restraine.
With homely sight, they chose thus to relax
The joys of State for the new Peace and Tax.
So @3Holland@1 with us had the Mast'ry try'd,
And our next neighbors, @3France@1 and @3Flanders@1, ride.
But a fresh News, the great designment nips:
Off at the @3Isle of Candy, Dutch@1 and Ships!
@3Bab May@1 and @3Arlington@1 did wisely scoffe,
And thought all safe if they were so far off:
Modern Geographers, 'twas there, they thought,
Where @3Venice@1 twenty years the @3Turk@1 had fought;
While the first Year our Navy is but shown,
The next divided, and the third we've none.
They, by the Name, mistook it for that Isle
Where @3Pilgrim Palmer@1 travel'd in exile,
With the Bulls horn to measure his own head,
And on @3Pasiphae's@1 Tombe to drop a Bead.
But @3Morrice@1 learn'd demonstrates, by the Post,
This @3Isle of Candy@1 was on @3Essex@1 Coast.
Fresh Messengers still the sad News assure,
More tim'rous now we are, than first secure.
False terrors our believing Fears devise:
And the @3French@1 Army one from @3Calais@1 spyes.
@3Bennet@1 and @3May@1 and those of shorter reach
Change all for Guinnies, and a Crown for each;
But wiser Men, and well foreseen in chance,
In @3Holland@1 theirs had lodg'd before, and @3France.
Whitehall's@1 unsafe, the @3Court@1 all meditates
To fly to @3Windsor@1, and mure up the Gates.
Each does the other blame, and all distrust;
But @3Mordant@1, new oblig'd, would sure be just.
Not such a fatall stupefaction reign'd
At @3Londons@1 Flame, nor so the @3Court@1 complain'd.
The @3Bloodworth-Chanc'lor@1 gives, then does recall,
Orders; amaz'd at last gives none at all.
@3St. Alban's@1 writ to that he may bewaile
To @3Master Lewis@1, and tell coward tale,
How yet the @3Hollanders@1 do make a noise,
Threaten to beat us, and are naughty Boyes.
Now @3Doleman's@1 disobedient, and they still
Uncivill; his unkindnesse would us kill.
Tell him our Ships unrigg'd, our Forts unman'd,
Our Money spent; else 'twere at his command.
Summon him therefore of his Word, and prove
To move him out of Pity, if not Love.
Pray him to make @3De Witte@1 and @3Ruyter@1 cease,
And whip the @3Dutch@1 unlesse they'll hold their peace.
But @3Lewis@1 was of memory but dull,
And to @3St. Albans@1 too undutyfull;
Nor Word nor near relation did revere:
But askt him bluntly for his Character.
The Gravell'd @3Count@1 did with the Answer faint
(His Character was that which thou didst paint)
And so inforc'd, like Enemy or Spy,
Trusses his bagage, and the Camp does fly.
Yet @3Lewis@1 writes, and lest our hearts should break,
Consoles us morally out of @3Seneque@1.
Two letters next unto @3Breda@1 are sent,
In cipher one to @3Harry Excellent@1.
The first instructs our (verse the Name abhors)
@3Plenipotentiary Ambassadors@1
To prove by Scripture, Treaty does imply
Cessation, as the Look Adultery;
And that, by Law of Arms, in martiall strife,
Who yields his Sword has title to his life.
@3Presbyter Hollis@1 the first point should cleare;
The second @3Coventry@1 the @3Cavalier@1.
But would they not be argu'd back from Sea,
Then to return home straight @3infecta re@1.
But @3Harry's@1 order'd if they won't recall
Their Fleet, to threaten, we will grant them all.
@3Hide's@1 flippant Stile there pleasantly curvets;
Still his sharp Witt on States and Princes whets
(So @3Spain@1 could not escape his Laughter's spleen:
None but himself must choose the King a Queen),
But, when he came the odious clause to pen
That summons up the @3Parliament@1 agen,
His Writing Master many a time he bann'd,
And wisht himself the Gout to seise his Hand.
Never old Leacher more repugnance felt,
Consenting, for his Rupture, to be gelt;
But still in hope he solac't, ere they come,
To work the Peace and so to send them home,
Or in their hasty Fall to find a flaw,
Their Acts to vitiate, and them overaw;
But most rely'd, upon this @3Dutch@1 pretense,
To raise a two edg'd Army for's defense.
First then he marcht our whole Militia's force
(As if indeed we Ships or @3Dutch@1 had Horse),
Then from the usuall commonplace he blames
These, and in standing Army's praise declames,
And the wise @3Court@1, that always lov'd it deare,
Now thinks all but too little for their Feare.
@3Hide@1 stamps, and streight upon the ground the swarms
Of currant @3Myrmidons@1 appear in Arms,
And for their Pay he writes, as from the @3King@1,
With that curs't quill pluckt from a Vultur's wing,
Of the whole @3Nation@1 now to ask a Loan
(The eighteen-hundred-thousand pound was gone).
This done, he pens a Proclamation stout
In rescue of the @3Banquiers Banquerouts@1,
His minion Imps, that, in his secret part,
Ly nuzling at the sacramentall wart;
Horse-leeches circling at the hem'royd veine:
He sucks the @3King@1, they him, he them againe.
The Kingdomes Farm he lets to them bid least:
Greater the Bribe, and that's at interest.
Here Men, induc'd by safety, gain, and ease,
Their Money lodge, confiscate when he please.
These can at need, at instant, with a scrip,
(This lik'd him best) his Cash beyond Sea whip.
When @3Dutch@1 invade, when @3Parliament@1 prepare,
How can he Engines so convenient spare?
Let no Man touch them or demand his own,
Pain of displeasure of great @3Clarindon@1.
The State affaires thus marshal'd, for the rest,
@3Monk@1 in his shirt against the @3Dutch@1 is prest.
Often, dear @3Painter@1, have I sat and mus'd
Why he should still be on all adventures us'd:
If they for nothing ill, like ashen wood,
Or think him, like herbe John, for nothing good?
Whether his Valor they so much admire,
Or that for Cowardise they all retire,
As @3Heav'n@1 in Storms, they call, in gusts of State,
On @3Monk@1 and @3Parliament@1, yet both do hate.
All Causes sure concurre, but most they think
Under @3Herculean@1 Labors he may sink.
Soon then the independent Troops would close,
And @3Hide's@1 last project would his Place dispose.
@3Ruyter@1 the while, that had our Ocean curb'd,
Sail'd now among our Rivers undisturb'd:
Survey'd their chrystall Streams and Banks so green
And Beauties ere this never naked seen.
Through the vain Sedge, the bashfull Nymphs he eyd
Bosomes and all which from themselves they hide.
The Sun much brighter, and the Skyes more clear,
He finds the Aire and all things sweeter here.
The sudden change and such a tempting Sight
Swells his old Veins with fresh Blood, fresh Delight.
Like am'rous Victors he begins to shave,
And his new Face looks in the @3English@1 wave.
His sporting Navy all about him swim.
And witness their complacence in their Trimme:
Their streaming Silks play through the weather fair
And with inveigling colors court the Aire,
While the red Flaggs breathe on their Top-masts high
Terror and War, but want an Enemy.
Among the Shrowds the Seamen sit and sing,
And wanton Boyes on evry Rope do cling.
Old @3Neptune@1 springs the Tides and water lent
(The Gods themselves do help the provident),
And, where the deep keel on the shallow cleaves,
With Trident's leaver and great shoulder heaves.
@3AEolus@1 their sailes inspires with Eastern wind,
Puffs them along, and breathes upon them kind.
With pearly Shell the @3Tritons@1 all the while
Sound the Sea-march, and guide to @3Sheppy Isle@1.
So have I seen, in Aprill's Bud, arise
A Fleet of clouds sailing along the skyes,
The liquid Region with their squadrons fill'd,
Their airy Sterns the Sun behind does guild,
And gentle gales them steere, and @3Heaven@1 drives,
When, all on sudden, their calm bosom rives
With Thund'r and Lightning from each armed Clowd:
Shepheards themselves in vain in bushes shrowd;
Such up the Stream the @3Belgick@1 Navy glides,
And at @3Sheernesse@1 unloads its stormy sides.
@3Sprag@1 there, though practis'd in the Sea-command,
With panting Heart lay like a Fish on Land
And quickly judg'd the Fort was not tenable,
Which, if a House, yet were not tenantable.
No man can sit there safe: the Canon pours
Thorow the Walls untight and Bullets show'rs,
The neighb'rhood ill, and an unwholsome Seat,
So at the first Salute resolves Retreat
And swore that he would never more dwell there
Untill the @3City@1 put it in repaire;
So he in front, his Garrison in reare,
March streight to @3Chatham@1 to increase the feare.
There our sick Ships unrigg'd in Summer lay,
Like molting Fowle, a weak and easy Prey.
For whose strong bulk Earth scarce could Timber finde,
The Ocean water, or the Heavens wind
Those Oaken Gyants of the ancient race,
That rul'd all Seas and did our @3Chanell@1 grace.
The conscious Stag, so, once the Forrest's dread,
Flyes to the Wood, and hides his armlesse Head.
@3Ruyter@1 forthwith a Squadron does untack:
They saile securely through the River's track.
An @3English@1 Pilot too, (O shame, O Sin!)
Cheated of Pay, was he that show'd them in.
Our wretched Ships, within, their Fate attend,
And all our hopes now on fraile Chain depend:
Engine so slight to guard us from the Sea,
It fitter seem'd to captivate a Flea.
A Skipper rude shocks it without respect,
Filling his Sailes, more force to recollect.
Th' @3English@1 from Shore the Iron deaf invoke
For its last aid: "Hold Chain, or we are broke!"
But with her sailing weight the @3Holland@1 keele,
Snapping the brittle links, does thorough reele
And to the rest the open'd passage shew.
@3Monke@1 from the bank the dismall Sight does view.
Our feather'd Gallants, which came down that day
To be spectators safe of the new Play,
Leave him alone when first they hear the Gun
(@3Cornb'ry@1 the fleetest) and to @3London@1 run.
Our Seamen, whom no Danger's shape could fright,
Unpaid refuse to mount our Ships for spight,
Or to their fellows swim on board the @3Dutch@1,
Which show the tempting metall in their clutch.
Oft had he sent of @3Duncome@1 and of @3Legg@1
Canon and Powder, but in vain, to beg:
And @3Upnor-Castle's@1 ill-defended Wall,
Now needfull, does for ammunition call.
He finds, wheres'ere he Succor might expect,
Confusion, Folly, Treach'ry, Feare, Neglect.
But when the @3Royal Charles@1 (what rage, what grief!)
He saw seis'd, and could give her no releif --
That sacred Keele, which had, as he, restor'd
His exil'd @3Soveraign@1 on its happy board,
And thence the @3Brittish Admirall@1 became,
Crown'd for that merit with their @3Master's@1 Name,
That Pleasure-boat of War, in whose dear Side
Secure so oft he had his Foe defy'd,
Now a cheap spoyle and the mean Victor's slave,
Taught the @3Dutch@1 Colors from its Top to wave --
Of former gloryes the reproachfull thought,
With present shame compar'd, his Mind distraught.
Such, from @3Euphrates@1 bank, a Tygresse fell
After the robber for her Whelps doth Yell;
But sees inrag'd the River flow between;
Frustrate Revenge, and Love, by losse more keen,
At her own Breast her uselesse claws does arme:
She tears her self since him she can not harme.
The Guards, plac'd for the Chain's and Fleet's defence.
Long since were fled on many a feign'd pretense.
@3Daniel@1 had there adventur'd, Man of might;
Sweet @3Painter@1, draw his Picture while I write.
Paint him of Person tall, and big of bone,
Large limms, like Ox not to be kill'd but shown.
Scarse can burnt Iv'ry feigne an hair so black,
Or face so red, thine Oker and thy Lack.
Mix a vain terror in his martiall looke,
And all those lines by which men are mistooke;
But when, by Shame constrain'd to goe on board,
He heard how the wild Canon nearer roar'd,
And saw himself confin'd like sheep in pen,
@3Daniel@1 then thought he was in Lion's den;
And when the frightfull fire-ships he saw,
Pregnant with Sulphur, to him nearer draw;
Captain, Lieutenant, Ensigne, all make haste
Ere in the Firy Furnace they be cast:
Three Children tall, unsing'd, away they row
Like @3Shadrack, Mesheck@1, and @3Abednego@1.
Not so brave @3Douglas@1, on whose lovely chin
The early Down but newly did begin,
And modest Beauty yet his Sex did veile,
While envious Virgins hope he is a Male.
His yellow Locks curle back themselves to seek,
Nor other Courtship knew but to his Cheek.
Oft as he in chill @3Eske@1 or @3Seine@1 by night
Harden'd and cool'd his limms, so soft, so white,
Among the reeds, to be espy'd by him
The Nymphs would rustle, he would forward swim.
They sigh'd and said, "Fond Boy, why so untame,
That fly'st Loves fires, reserv'd for other Flame?"
Fix'd on his Ship, he fac'd that horrid Day,
And wonder'd much at those that run away;
Nor other Fear himself could comprehend
Than lest @3Heav'n@1 fall ere thither he ascend,
But intertains the while his Time too short
With birding at the @3Dutch@1 as if in sport,
Or waves his Sword, and could he then conjure
Within its circle, knows himself secure.
The fatall Bark him boards with grappling fire,
And safely through its Port the @3Dutch@1 retire:
That precious Life he yet disdains to save,
Or with known Art to try the gentle wave.
Much him the Honors of his ancient Race
Inspire, nor would he his own Deeds deface,
And secret Joy in his calm Soule does rise
That @3Monk@1 looks on to see how @3Douglas@1 dyes.
Like a glad Lover the fierce Flames he meets,
And tryes his first embraces in their Sheets.
His shape exact, which the bright Flames infold,
Like the Sun's Statue stands of burnisht Gold.
Round the transparent Fire about him glows,
As the clear Ambar on the Bee does close;
And as on Angell's heads their Gloryes shine,
His burning Locks adorn his Face divine.
But when in his immortall Mind he felt
His alt'ring Form and soder'd limms to melt,
Down on the Deck he lay'd himself and dy'd,
With his dear Sword reposing by his Side
And, on the flaming plank, so rests his Head
As one that's warm'd himself and gon to bed.
His Ship burns down and with his Reliques sinks,
And the sad stream beneath his Ashes drinks.
Fortunate Boy! If either Pencills fame,
Or if my Verse can propagate thy Name,
When @3CEta@1 and @3Alcides@1 are forgot,
Our @3English@1 youth shall sing the valiant @3Scott@1.
Each Dolefull Day still with fresh losse returns:
The @3Loyall London@1 now a third time burns,
And the true @3Royall Oake@1 and @3Royall James@1,
Ally'd in Fate, increase with theirs her Flames.
Of all our Navy none should now survive,
But that the Ships themselves were taught to dive,
And the Kind River in its creek them hides,
Fraughting their pierced Keels with oozy tides.
Up to the @3Bridge@1 contagious Terror strook:
The @3Tow'r@1 it self with the near Danger shook,
And were not @3Ruyter's@1 maw with ravage cloy'd,
Ev'n @3London's@1 ashes had been then destroy'd.
Officious Fear, however, to prevent
Our losse does so much more our losse augment:
The @3Dutch@1 had robb'd those jewells of the @3Crowne@1;
Our Merchant-men, lest they be burnt, we drown.
So when the Fire did not enough devoure,
The Houses were demolish't near the @3Tow'r@1.
Those Ships that yearly from their teeming Howle
Unloaded here the Birth of either Pole --
Furrs from the North, and silver from the West,
Wines from the South, and spices from the East,
From @3Gambo@1 Gold, and from the @3Ganges@1 Gemms --
Take a short voyadge underneath the @3Thames@1,
Once a deep River, now with Timber floor'd,
And shrunk, least navigable, to a Ford.
Now (nothing more at @3Chatham@1 left to burn)
The @3Holland@1 squadron leisurely return,
And, spight of @3Ruperts@1 and of @3Albermarles@1,
To @3Ruyter's@1 Triumph lead the captive @3Charles@1.
The pleasing Sight he often does prolong:
Her Masts erect, tough Chordage, Timbers strong,
Her moving Shapes, all these he does survey,
And all admires, but most his easy Prey.
The Seamen search her all within, without:
Viewing her strength, they yet their conquest doubt;
Then with rude shouts, secure, the Aire they vex,
With gamesome Joy insulting on her Decks.
Such the fear'd @3Hebrew@1, captive, blinded, shorn,
Was led about in sport, the publick scorn.
Black Day accurst! on thee let no man hale
Out of the Port, or dare to hoise a saile,
Nor row a boat in thy unlucky houre.
Thee, the years monster, let thy Dam devoure:
And constant Time, to keep his course yet right,
Fill up thy space with a redoubled Night.
When aged @3Thames@1 was bound with fetters base,
And Medway chast ravisht before his Face,
And their dear offspring murder'd in their Sight,
Thou and thy fellows held'st the odious Light.
Sad change since first that happy pair was wed,
When all the Rivers grac'd their nuptiall Bed,
And @3Father Neptune@1 promis'd to resigne
His Empire old to their immortall Line!
Now with vain grief their vainer hopes they rue,
Themselves dishonor'd, and the Gods untrue,
And to each other, helplesse couple, mone,
As the sad Tortoyse for the Sea does groan.
But most they for their darling @3Charles@1 complain,
And, were it burnt, yet lesse would be their pain.
To see that fatall pledge of Sea-command
Now in the Ravisher @3De-Ruyter's@1 hand,
The @3Thames@1 roar'd, swooning @3Medway@1 turn'd her tide,
And, were they mortall, both for grief had dy'd.
The @3Court@1 in farthing yet it self does please,
And female @3Stuart@1, there, rules the foure Seas,
But Fate does still accumulate our Woes,
And @3Richmond@1 her commands, as @3Ruyter@1 those.
After this Losse, to rellish discontent,
Someone must be accus'd by Punishment.
All our miscarriages on @3Pett@1 must fall:
His Name alone seems fit to answer all.
Whose Counsell first did this mad War beget?
Who all Commands sold through the Navy? @3Pett@1.
Who would not follow when the @3Dutch@1 were bet?
Who treated out the time at @3Bergen? Pett@1.
Who the @3Dutch Fleet@1 with Storms disabled met?
And, rifling Prizes, them neglected? @3Pett@1.
Who with false news prevented the @3Gazette@1,
The Fleet divided, writ for @3Rupert? Pett@1.
Who all our Seamen cheated of their Debt,
And all our Prizes who did swallow? @3Pett@1.
Who did advise no Navy out to set,
And who the Forts left unrepaired? @3Pett@1.
Who to supply with Powder did forget
@3Languard, Sheernesse, Graves-end@1, and @3Upnor? Pett@1.
Who all our Ships expos'd in @3Chatham's@1 Net?
Who should it be but the @3Fanatick Pett@1.
@3Pett@1, the Sea Architect, in making Ships,
Was the first cause of all these Navall slips:
Had he not built, none of these Faults had bin;
If no Creation, there had been no Sin.
But, his great Crime, one Boat away he sent:
That lost our Fleet, and did our Flight prevent.
Then, that Reward might in its turn take place,
And march with Punishment in equall pace:
@3Southampton@1 dead, much of the @3Treasure's@1 Care,
And place in Counsell fell to @3Duncome's@1 share.
All men admir'd he to that pitch could fly:
Powder ne'r blew man up so soon so high,
But sure his late good husbandry in Petre
Show'd him to manage the @3Exchequer@1 meeter;
And who the Forts would not vouchsafe a corn,
To lavish the @3King's@1 Money more would scorn.
Who hath no Chimneys, to give all is best;
And ablest Speaker, who of Law has least;
Who lesse Estate, for Treasurer most fit,
And for a Couns'lor, he that has least Wit.
But the true Cause was, that, in's Brother @3May@1,
@3Th'Exchequer@1 might the Privy-purse obey.
But now draws near the @3Parliament's@1 return:
@3Hide@1 and the @3Court@1 again begin to mourn;
Frequent in Counsell, earnest in Debate,
All Arts they try how to prolong its Date.
Grave Primate @3Shelden@1 (much in preaching there)
Blames the last Session and this more does fear:
With @3Boynton@1 or with @3Middleton@1 'twere sweet,
But with a @3Parliament@1 abhors to meet
And thinks 'twill ne'r be well within this Nation
Till it be govern'd by a @3Convocation@1.
But in the @3Thames's@1 mouth still @3Ruyter@1 laid;
The Peace not sure, new Army must be paid.
@3Hide@1 saith he hourly waits for a dispatch;
@3Harry@1 came post just as he shew'd his Watch,
All to agree the Articles were clear,
The @3Holland@1 Fleet and @3Parliament@1 so near;
Yet, @3Harry@1 must jobb back, and all mature,
Binding, ere th' @3Houses@1 meet, the @3Treaty@1 sure.
And 'twixt Necessity and Spight, till then,
Let them come up so to goe down agen.
Up ambles Country Justice on his Pad,
And Vest bespeaks to be more seemly clad.
Plain Gentlemen in Stage-Coach are ore thrown,
And Deputy-Lieutenants in their own.
The portly Burgesse, through the Weather hot,
Does for his Corporation sweat and trott;
And all with Sun and Choler come adust
And threaten @3Hide@1 to raise a greater Dust.
But, fresh as from the Mint, the Courtiers fine
Salute them, smiling at their vain designe,
And @3Turner@1 gay up to his Pearch does march
With Face new bleach't, smoothen'd and stiffe with starche;
Tells them he at @3Whitehall@1 had took a turn,
And for three Dayes thence moves them to adjourn.
"Not so!" quoth @3Tomkins@1, and straight drew his Tongue.
Trusty as steele, that always ready hung;
And so, proceeding in his motion warm,
Th' Army soon rais'd he doth as soon disarme.
True Trojan! While this Town can girles afford,
And long as Cider lasts in @3Hereford@1,
The Girles shall always kisse thee though grown old,
And in eternall Healths thy Name be troll'd.
Meanwhile the certain News of Peace arrives
At @3Court@1, and so reprieves their guilty Lives.
@3Hide@1 orders @3Turner@1 that he should come late,
Lest some new @3Tomkins@1 spring a fresh Debate.
The @3King@1 that day rais'd early from his rest,
Expects, as at a Play, till @3Turner's@1 drest.
At last, together @3Eaton@1 come and he:
No Diall more could with the Sun agree.
The @3Speaker@1, summon'd, to the @3Lords@1 repairs,
Nor gave the @3Commons@1 leave to say their pray'rs,
But like his Pris'ners to the Bar them led,
Where mute they stand to hear their sentence read:
Trembling with Joy and Fear, @3Hide@1 them prorogues,
And had almost mistook and call'd them Rogues.
Dear @3Painter@1, draw this @3Speaker@1 to the foot:
Where Pencill can not there my Pen shall do't;
That may his Body, this his Mind explain,
Paint him in Golden Gown, with Mace's Brain,
Bright Hair, fair Face, obscure and dull of Head,
Like Knife with Iv'ry haft and edge of Lead.
At Pray'rs, his Eyes turn up the pious white,
But all the while His Private-Bill's in sight.
In Chair, he smoking sits like Master-Cook,
And a Poll-Bill does like his Apron look.
Well was he skill'd to season any question,
And made a sawce fit for @3Whitehall's@1 digestion;
Whence ev'ry day, the Palat more to tickle,
Court-mushrumps ready are, sent in in pickle.
When Grievance urg'd, he swells like squatted Toad,
Frisks, like a Frog, to croak a Taxes load;
His patient Pisse he could hold longer then
An Urinall, and sit like any Hen;
At Table jolly as a Country-Host
And soaks his Sack with @3Norfolk@1 like a Toast:
At Night than @3Chanticleer@1 more brisk and hot,
And @3Sergeant's@1 Wife serves him for @3Pertelott@1.
Paint last the @3King@1 and a dead shade of Night
Only dispers'd by a weak Taper's light,
And those bright gleams that dart along and glare
From his clear Eyes (yet these too dark with Care).
There, as in the calm horror all alone
He wakes and muses of th' uneasy Throne,
Raise up a sudden shape with Virgin's Face:
(Though ill agree her posture, hour, or place)
Naked as born, and her round Arms behind
With her own Tresses interwove and twin'd;
Her Mouth lockt up, a blind before her Eyes;
Yet from beneath the Veile her blushes rise,
And silent Tears her secret anguish speak;
Her Heart throbbs and with very shame would break.
The Object strange in him no terror mov'd;
He wonder'd first, then pity'd, then he loved,
And with kind hand does the coy Vision presse,
Whose Beauty greater seem'd by her distresse,
But soon shrunk back, chill'd with her touch so cold,
And th' airy Picture vanish't from his hold.
In his deep thoughts the wonder did increase;
And he divin'd, 'twas @3England@1 or the @3Peace@1.
Expresse him startling next with listning eare,
As one that some unusuall noyse does hear:
With Canon, Trumpets, Drums, his door surround,
But let some other Painter draw the sound.
Thrice did he rise, thrice the vain Tumult fled,
But again thunders when he lyes in Bed.
His mind secure does the known stroke repeat
And finds the Drums @3Lewis's@1 March did beat.
Shake then the room and all his curtains tear
And with blew streaks infect the Taper clear,
While the pale Ghosts his Eye does fixt admire
Of Grandsire @3Harry@1 and of @3Charles@1 his Sire.
@3Harry@1 sits down, and in his open Side
The grisly Wound reveals of which he dy'd;
And ghastly @3Charles@1, turning his collar low,
The purple thread about his Neck does show,
Then, whisp'ring to his Son in words unheard,
Through the lockt door both of them disappear'd.
The wondrous Night the pensive @3King@1 revolves,
And rising straight on @3Hide's@1 Disgrace resolves.
At his first step, he @3Castlemain@1 does find,
@3Bennet@1 and @3Coventry@1, as 'twere design'd.
And they, not knowing, the same thing propose
Which his hid Mind did in its depths inclose.
Through their feign'd speech their secret Hearts he knew:
To her own Husband, @3Castlemain@1 untrue;
False to his Master @3Bristoll, Arlington;@1
And @3Coventry@1, falser than any one,
Who to the Brother, Brother would betray,
Nor therefore trusts himself to such as they.
His Father's Ghost too whisper'd him one note,
That who does cut his purse will cut his throat,
But in wise anger he their crimes forbears,
As Thiev's repriev'd for Executioners;
While @3Hide@1, provok't, his foaming tusk does whet
To prove them Traytors, and himself the @3Pett@1.
@3Painter@1, adieu, how well our Arts agree!
Poetique Picture, painted Poetry!
But this great Worke is for our @3Monarch@1 fit,
And henceforth @3Charles@1 only to @3Charles@1 shall sit.
His master-hand the Ancients shall outdo
Himself the @3Painter@1 and the @3Poet@1 too.

@3To the King@1
So his bold Tube Man to the Sun apply'd
And spots unknown to the bright Star descry'd:
Show'd they obscure him while too near they prease,
And seem his Courtiers, are but his disease.
Through optick Trunk the Planet seem'd to hear
And hurles them off e'er since in his Careere.
And you, @3Great Sir@1, that with him Empire share,
Sun of our World, as he the @3Charles@1 is There:
Blame not the Muse that brought those spots to sight
Which, in your Splendor hid, corrode your Light.
(Kings in the Country oft have gone astray,
Nor of a Peasant scorn'd to learn the Way).
Would She the unattended Throne reduce,
Banishing Love, Trust, Ornament, and Use,
Better it were to live in Cloyster's lock,
Or in faire Fields to rule the easy Flock.
She blames them only who the @3Court@1 restraine,
And, where all @3England@1 serves, themselves would reigne.
Bold and accurst are they that all this while
Have strove to isle our @3Monarch@1 from his @3Isle@1,
And to improve themselves, on false pretense,
About the @3Common-Prince@1 have rais'd a Fense;
The @3Kingdom@1 from the @3Crown@1 distinct would see
And peele the Barke to burn at last the Tree.
(But @3Ceres@1 Corn, and @3Flora@1 is the Spring,
@3Bachus@1 is Wine, the @3Country@1 is the @3King@1).
Not so does Rust insinuating weare,
Nor Powder so the vaulted Bastion teare,
Nor Earthquake so an hollow Isle o'erwhelm,
As scratching Courtiers undermine a Realme
And through the Palace's Foundations bore,
Burr'wing themselves to hoord their guilty store.
The smallest Vermine make the greatest Waste,
And a poor Warren once a City ras'd.
But they whom, born to Virtue and to Wealth,
Nor Guilt to Flatt'ry binds, nor Want to Stealth;
Whose gen'rous Conscience and whose Courage high
Does with clear Counsells their Large Soules supply;
That serve the @3King@1 with their Estates and Care,
And as in Love on @3Parliments@1 can stare,
(Where few the Number, Choice is there lesse hard):
Give us this @3Court@1 and rule without a Guard.



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