17

SATIRE III.

THE curteous citizen bad me to his feast,
With hollow words, and overly" request:
"Come, will ye dine with me this holyday?"
I yeelded; tho' he hop'd I would say Nay:
For had I mayden'd it, as many use;
Loath for to graunt, but loather to refuse;
"Alacke, Sir, I were loath; another day,-

"I should but trouble you;-pardon me, if you may:"
No pardon should I need; for, to depart
He gives me leave, and thanks too, in his heart.
Two words for money, Darbishirian wise",
(That's one too many) is a naughtie guise.
Who lookes for double biddings to a feast,
May dine at home for an importune guest".
I went then saw, and found the great expence ;
The fare and fashions of our citizens.

Oh, Cleopatricall"! what wanteth there

For curious cost, and wondrous choise of cheare?
Beefe, that earst Hercules held for finest fare;
Porke, for the fat Boeotian; or the hare,
For Martiall; fish, for the Venetian;
Goose-liver, for the likorous Romane;

Th' Athenian's goate; quaile, Iolan's cheere;
The hen, for Esculape; and the Parthian deere ;
Grapes, for Arcesilas; figs, for Platoe's mouth;
And chesnuts faire, for Amarillis' tooth".

Hadst thou such cheer? wert thou ever ther before?
Never. I thought so: nor come there no more.
Come there no more; for so ment all that cost:
Never hence take me for thy second host.

For whom he meanes to make an often guest,

One dish shall serve; and welcome make the rest.

overly-slight.

18 For had I mayden'd it

i. e. Acted the modest maiden.

19 Two words for money, DARBISHIRIAN WISE.

Qu. Is this a satire against the men of Derbyshire, or against some known character of our author's time?

20

for an importune guest.

i. e. One who will not become a guest without much importunity.

Oh, Cleopatricall!-luxurious as Cleopatra.

"And chesnuts faire, for Amarillis' tooth.

By the name of Amarillis, Spenser, in "Colin Clout's come home again," distinguishes Lady Strange: to whom also he dedicates "The Teares of the Muses." See Todd's Life of Spenser, p. 76.

SATIRE IV.

WERE yesterday Polemon's Natals kept,
That so his threshold is all freshly steept
With new-shed bloud? Could hee not sacrifice
Some sorry morkin" that unbidden dies,
Or meager heifer, or some rotten ewe,

But he must needes his posts with blood embrew;
And on his way-doore fixe the horned head,
With flowers and with ribbands garnished?
Now shall the passenger deeme the man devout.
What boots it be so, but the world must know't?
O the fond boastings of vaine glorious men!
Does he the best, that may the best be seene?
Who ever gives a paire of velvet shooes
To th' Holy Rood, or liberally allowes
But a new rope to ring the Couvre-feu Bell,
But he desires that his great deed may dwell,
Or graven in the chancel-window-glasse,
Or in his lasting tombe of plated brasse".
For he, that doth so few deserving deeds,
"Twere sure his best sue for such larger meeds.
Who would inglorious live, inglorious die,
And might eternize his name's memorie ?
And he, that cannot brag of greater store,
Must make his somewhat much, and little more.
Nor can good Myson weare on his left hond,
A signet ring of Bristol-diamond,

But he must cut his glove to shew his pride,
That his trim jewel might be better spide;

And, that men mought some Burgesse him repute,
With satten sleeves hath grac'd his sackcloth sute.

23

SATIRE V.

FIE on all curtesie, and unruly winds,

Two onely foes that faire disguisement finds.

morkin-a beast that dies by accident or sickness.

24 Who ever gives a pair of velvet shooes

To th' Holy Rood

The velvet shoes were for the feet of Christ on the Cross, or of one of the attendant figures.

W.

25 Or in HIS lasting tombe of plated brasse.

The edition of 1602, followed by the Oxford, reads the: but his is the reading the first edition.

26

Strange curse! but fit for such a fickle age,
When Scalpes are subject to such vassalage.
Late travailing along in London
way,
Mee met, as seem'd by his disguis'd aray,
A lustie courtier; whose curled head
With abron 26 locks was fairely furnished.
I him saluted in our lavish wise:

He answers my untimely curtesies.

His bonnet vail'd", ere ever he could thinke,
Th' unruly winde blowes off his periwinke 28.
He lights, and runs, and quickly hath him sped,
To overtake his overrunning head.

The sportfull wind, to mocke the Headlesse man,
Tosses apace his pitch'd Rogerian":

And straight it to a deeper ditch hath blowne;
There must my yonker fetch his waxen crowne
I lookt, and laught; whiles, in his raging minde,
He curst all courtesie, and unruly winde.

I lookt, and laught; and much I marvailed,
To see so large a Caus-way in his head.

And me bethought, that when it first begon,

30

'Twas some shroud Autumne that so bar'd the bone 31.

Is't not sweete pride, when men their crownes must shade,
With that which jerks the hams of every jade,

Or floor-strowd locks from off the barber's sheares?
But waxen crowns well gree" with borrow'd haires.

abron-Qu. auburn ?

27 His bonnet vail'd

i. e. pulled off. See Reed's Shakespeare, Vol. VII. p. 235.

28

periwinke—i, e. periwig: about this time first become an article of dress. In Book IV. Sat. 6. it is made one of the characteristics of a fop

And weare curl'd periwigs.

" Tosses apace his pitch'd ROGERIAN.

It seems to have been a favourite practice of periwig makers, ever since the introduction of this excrementitious ornament of the head, to distinguish its various forms by different proper names. The Tituses, and Brutuses, and Georges of the present day form the last of this noble race!

30 There must my YONKER fetch his waxen crowne.

Yonker means a novice; a lusty young man; or a young, inexperienced man, easily deceived. See Reed's Shakespeare, Vol. II. p. 358.

31 'Twas some SHROUD autumne that so bar'd the bone. Shroud, for shrewd; bitter, severe. So Shakespeare

That have endur'd SHREWD days and nights with us.

gree-for agree.

AS YOU LIKE IT. Act V. Sc. 4.

SATIRE VI

WHEN Gullion di'd (who knows not Gullion ?)
And his dry soule ariv'd at Acheron,
He faire besought the feryman of hell,
That he might drinke to dead Pantagruel.
Charon was afraid least thirstie Gullion,
Would have drunke drie the river Acheron.
Yet last" consented for a little hyre,

And downe he dips his chops deepe in the myre,
And drinks, and drinks, and swallows in the streeme,
Untill the shallow shores all naked seeme.
Yet still he drinks, nor can the Boteman's cries,
Nor crabbed ores, nor praiers make him rise.
So long he drinks, till the blacke Caravell "
Stands still fast gravel'd on the mud of hell.
There stand they still, nor can go, nor retyre,
Tho' greedie ghosts quicke passage did require.
Yet stand they still, as tho' they lay at rode,
Till Gullion his bladder would unlode.

They stand, and wait, and pray for that good houre;
Which, when it came, they sailed to the shore.
But never since dareth the Feryman,

Once intertaine the ghost of Gullian..

Drinke on drie soule, and pledge sir Gullion:

Drinke to all healths, but drinke not to thine owne.

Desunt nonnulla.

33

35

36

SATIRE VII.

SEEST thou how gayly my yong maister goes,
Vaunting himselfe upon his rising toes;
And pranks his hand upon his dagger's side;
And picks his glutted teeth since late noon-tide?
'Tis Ruffio. Trow'st thou where he din'd to day?
In sooth I saw him sit with Duke Humfray 37.

caravell-boat, a small vessel.

praiers-as two syllables.

pranks-adjusts. See Todd's Spenser, Vol. II. p.117.

"In sooth I saw him sit with Duke Humfray, &c. &c.

Mr. Steevens says that he never yet met with a satisfactory explanation of the cant phrase of dining with Duke Humphrey. "It appears, however," he adds, "from a satirical pamphlet called The Gul's Horn-booke, 1609, written by T. Deckar, that, in the ancient church of St. Paul, one of the aisles was called Duke Humphrey's Walk; in which those, who had no means of procuring a dinner, affected

Many good welcoms, and much Gratis cheere,
Keepes he for everie stragling Cavaliere.
An open house, haunted with great resort;
Long service mixt with musicall disport.
Many a faire yonker 38 with a fether'd crest,
Chooses much rather be his shot-free guest,
To fare so freely with so little cost,

Than stake his twelve-pence to a meaner host.
Hadst thou not told me, I should surely say
He touch't no meat of all this live-long day.
For sure me thought, yet that was but a ghesse,
His eyes seeme sunke for verie hollownesse:
But could he have (as I did it mistake)
So little in his purse, so much upon his backe?
So nothing in his maw? yet seemeth by his belt,
That his gaunt gut no too much stuffing felt.
Seest thou how side it hangs beneath his hip?
Hunger and heavy Iron makes girdles slip.
Yet for all that, how stifly strits he by ",
All trapped in the new-found braverie.
The Nuns of new-woon Cales his bonnet lent,
In lieu of their so kind a conquerment".
What needed he fetch that from farthest Spaine,
His Grandame could have lent with lesser paine?
Tho' he perhaps never past the English shore,
Yet faine would counted be a conquerour.
His haire, French like, stares on his frighted hed,
One locke Amazon-like" disheveled,

As if he ment to weare a native cord,

If chaunce his Fates should him that bane afford.
All Brittish bare upon the bristled skin,

Close noched is his beard both lip and chin;

to loiter. Deckar concludes his fourth chapter thus: "By this, I imagine, you have walked your bellyful, and thereupon being weary (which is rather, I believe) being most gentleman-like hungry, it is fit that as I brought you unto the duke, so (because he followes the fashion of great men in keeping no house, and that therefore you must go seeke your dinner,) suffer me to take you by the hand and leade you into an ordinary.' The title of this chapter is, 'How a gallant should behave himself in Powles Walkes'." Mr. Steevens then quotes this passage of Hall as confirming the interpretation here given. See his Note on Richard III. Act iv. Scene 4.

He pretends to have been at the conquest of Cales, where the nuns had worked his bonnet. W.

Amazon-Accented on the second syllable. E.