VIRGIDEMIAE: BOOK 4: SATIRE: 1 by JOSEPH HALL

VVho dares vpbraid these open rimes of mine
With blindfold @3Aquines,@1 or darke @3Venusine?@1
Or rough-hew'ne @3Teretismes@1 writ in th'antique vain
Like an old @3Satyre,@1 and new @3Flaccian?@1
Which who reads thrise, & rubs his rugged brow,
And deepe intendeth euery doubtfull row,
Scoring the margent with his blazing stars
And hundreth crooked interlinears,
(Like to a Merchants debt-role new defac't
When some crack'd @3Manour@1 crost his book at last)
Should all in rage the Curse-beat Page out-riue,
And in ech dust-heape bury mee aliue
Stamping like @3Bucephall,@1 whose slackned raines,
And bloody fet-lockes fry with seuen mens braines;
More cruell than the crauon @3Satyres@1 Ghost,
That bound dead-bones vnto a burning post,
Or some more strait-lac'd Iuror of the rest,
Impannel'd of an Holy-Fax inquest;
Yet wel bethought stoops downe, and reads a new:
The best lies low, and loathes the shallow view,
Quoth old @3Eudemon,@1 when his gout-swolne fist
Gropes for his double Ducates in his chist:
Then buckle close his carelesse lyds once more,
To pose the pore-blinde snake of @3Epidaore.@1
That @3Lyncius@1 may be match't with @3Gaulards@1 sight,
That sees not @3Paris@1 for the houses height;
Or wilie @3Cyppus,@1 that can winke and snort
Whiles his wife dallies on @3Maecenas@1 skort;
Yet when hee hath my crabbed Pamphlet red
As oftentimes as @3PHILLIP@1 hath beene dead,
Bids all the Furies haunt each peeuish line
That thus haue rackt their friendly readers eyne;
Worse than the @3Logogryphes@1 of later times,
Or @3Hundreth Riddles@1 shak't to sleeue-lesse rimes;
Should I endure these curses and dispight
While no mans eare should glow at what I write?
@3Labeo@1 is whip't, and laughs mee in the face:
Why? for I smite and hide the galled place.
Gird but the @3Cynicks@1 Helmet on his head,
Cares hee for @3Talus,@1 or his flayle of lead?
Long as the craftie @3Cuttle@1 lieth sure
In the blacke @3Cloude@1 of his thicke vomiture;
Who list complaine of wronged faith or fame
When hee may shift it to anothers name?
@3Caluus@1 can scratch his elbow, and can smile,
That thrift-lesse @3Pontice@1 bites his lip the while.
Yet I intended in that selfe deuise,
To checke the churle for his knowne couetise.
Ech points his straight fore-finger to his friend,
Like the blind Diall on the Belfrey end:
Who turnes it homeward to say, this is I,
As bolder @3Socrates@1 in the Comedy?
But single out, and say once plat and plaine
That coy @3Matrona@1 is a Curtizan,
Or thou false @3Cryspus@1 chokd'st thy wealthie guest
Whiles hee lay snoring at his midnight rest,
And in thy dung-cart did'st the carkasse shrine
And deepe intombe it in @3Port-esquiline.@1
Proud @3Trebius@1 liu's for all his princely gate
On third-hand suits, and scrapings of the plate.
@3Titius@1 knew not where to shroude his head
Vntill hee did a dying widow wed
Whiles she lay doting on her deathes bed,
And now hath purchas'd lands with one nights paine
And on the morrow woes and weds againe.
Now see I fire-flakes sparkle from his eyes
Like a @3Comets@1 tayle in th'angry skies,
His pouting cheeks puffe vp aboue his brow
Like a swolne Toad touch't with the Spyders blow;
His mouth shrinks sideward like a scornefull @3Playse@1
To take his tired Eares ingratefull place:
His Eares hang lauing like a new-lug'd swine
To take some counsell of his grieued eyne.
Now laugh I loud, and breake my splene to see
This pleasing pastime of my poesie,
Much better than a Paris-garden Beare,
Or prating puppet on a Theatere,
Or @3Mimoes@1 whistling to his tabouret
Selling a laughter for a cold meales meate.
Go to then ye my sacred @3Semones,@1
And please me more, the more ye do displease;
Care we for all those bugs of ydle feare?
For @3Tigels@1 grinning on the Theater,
Or scar-babe threatnings of the rascal crue,
Or wind-spent verdicts of each Ale-knights view?
What euer brest doth freeze for such false dread,
Beshrow his base white liuer for his meede.
Fond were that pitie, and that feare were sin,
To spare wast leaues that so deserued bin.
Those toothlesse @3Toyes@1 that dropt out by mis-hap,
Bee but as lightning to a thunder-clap:
Shall then that foule infamous @3Cyneds@1 hide
Laugh at the purple wales of others side?
Not, if hee were as neere, as by report,
The stewes had wont to be to the Tenis-court,
Hee that while thousands enuie at his bed,
Neighs after Bridals, and fresh-mayden heade:
While slauish @3Iuno@1 dares not looke awry
To frowne at such imperious riualrye,
Not tho shee sees her wedding Iewels drest
To make new Bracelets for a strumpets wrest,
Or like some strange disguised @3Messaline,@1
Hires a nights lodging of his concubine;
Whether his twilight-torch of loue do call
To reuils of vncleanly Musicall,
Or midnight plaies, or Tauerns of new wine,
Hy ye white Aprons to your Land-Lords signe;
When all, saue tooth-lesse age or infancie,
Are summon'd to the Court of Venerie.
Who list excuse? when chaister dames can hyre,
Some snout-faire stripling to their Apple-squire:
Whom staked vp like to some stallion-steede
They keepe with Egs and Oysters for the breede.
O @3Lucine!@1 barren @3Caia@1 hath an heire
After her husband's dozen yeares despaire.
And now the bribed Mid-wife sweares apace,
The bastard babe doth beare his fathers face.
But hath not @3Lelia@1 past hir virgine yeares?
For modest shame (God wot) or penall feares.
He tels a Merchant tidings of a prise,
That tels @3Cynedo@1 of such nouelties,
Worth little lesse than landing of a Whale,
Or @3Gades@1 spoyles, or a churles funerale:
Go bid the baines and point the bridall day,
His broking Baud hath got a noble prey,
A vacant tenement, an honest dowre
Can fit his pander for her paramoure,
That hee, base wretch, may clog his wit-old head
And giue him hansell of his Hymen-bed.
Ho! all ye Females that would liue vnshent
Fly from the reach of @3Cyneds@1 regiment.
If Trent be drawne to dregs, and @3Low@1 refuse,
Hence ye hot lechour, to the steaming stewes.
@3Tyber@1 the famous sinke of Christendome
Turn thou to @3Thames, & Thames@1 runn towards @3Rome:@1
What euer damned streame but thine were meete
To quench his lusting liuers boyling heate?
Thy double draught may quench his dog-daies rage
With some stale @3Bacchis,@1 or obsequious page,
When writhen @3Lena@1 makes her sale-set showes
Of wooden @3Venus@1 with faire limned browes;
Or like him more some vailed @3Matrons@1 face,
Or trained prentise trading in the place:
The close adultresse, where her name is red
Coms crauling from her husbands lukewarme bed,
Her carrion skin bedaub'd with odours sweete,
Groping the postern with her bared feet.
Now play the @3Satyre@1 who so list for mee,
@3Valentine@1 selfe, or some as chast as hee.
In vaine she wisheth long @3Alchmaenaes@1 night,
Cursing the hasty dawning of the light,
And with her cruell Ladie-starre vprose
Shee seekes hir third roust on her silent toes,
Besmeared all with loathsome smoke of lust
Like @3Acherons@1 steemes, or smoldring sulphur dust:
Yet all day sits shee simpring in her mew
Like some chast dame, or shrined saynct in shew,
Whiles hee lies wallowing with a westie hed
And palish carkasse, on his Brothel-bed,
Till his salt bowels boyle with poysonous fire,
Right @3Hercules@1 with his second @3Deianire.@1
O @3Esculape!@1 how rife is Phisicke made,
When ech Brasse-basen can professe the trade
Of ridding pockie wretches from their paine,
And doe the beastly cure for ten-groats gaine?
Al these & more, deserue some blood-drawne lines:
But my sixe Cords beene of too loose a twine.
Stay till my beard shall sweepe myne aged brest,
Then shall I seeme an awfull @3Satyrist:@1
While now my rimes relish of the Ferule still,
Some nose-wise @3Pedant@1 saith; whose deepe-sene skil
Hath three times construed either @3Flaccus@1 ore,
And thrise rehears'd them in his Triuiall floare,
So let them taxe mee for my hote-bloodes rage,
Rather than say I doted in my age.

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!

Other Poems of Interest...