To heate his blood and quicken luxury;
Which by his billing female was imbrac’d,
Clasping her wings about his wanton waste.
O God, thought I, what’s here by light within, 375
Where some in darkenesse should have fear’d to sin?
The Cormorant set closely to devise,
How he might compasse strange monopolies.
The gawdie Gold-Finch and his courtly mate,
My madame Bunting powerfull in the state, 380
Quickly agreed, and but at little sticke,
To share a thousand for a bishopricke,
And scramble up some feathers from the Larke,
What though a pastor and a learned clarke?
And for his reverence, though he weare a cowle, 385
Yet at his entrance he must pay them tole.
I saw a Buzzard scorning of the blacke,
That but of late did clothe his needy backe,
With Ostridge feathers had trict up his crest,
As he were bred a Falcon at the least. 390
Thus strouts he daily in his borrowed plume,
And but for shame he boldly durst presume,
With princely Eaglets to compare his sight:
Not the proud Iris in her colours dight,
Could with this base Kyte equally compare. 395
What fowle before him stood not humbly bare?
No lesse then lords attending every becke,
At his command his betters brooke his checke.
But, O my liege, the birds of noble race
Know whence he is, and who affords him grace, 400
And inly grieve to see a servile mate,
Crept up by favour, to out-brave a state.
The poore implumed birds that by offence,
Or some disgrace have lost pre-eminence,
Can point and say, this feather once was mine: 405
Some winke, some would, some grieve, and some repine.
Besides all this, I saw a bird did scowre
A serpents teeth, that daily did devoure
Widdowes and orphanes, yet th’Egyptian sawes
Commend this bird for clensing serpents jawes. 410
For the base Trochyle thinketh it no payne,
To scowre vile carion for a savoury gayne.
When soone I saw about the serpents nest,
Whil’st this base slave his nastie grinders drest,
A thousand thousand silly little birds, 415
Covering the fields, as doe the summers herds;
A thousand larger fowles, that strangely carpe,
Did curse the beake that made his goomes so sharpe,
Yet in this base bird I might well descry,
The prosperous fruit of thriving policy. 420
Casting mine eye, and looking through a glasse,
I saw a Gos-Hawke (that in state did passe)
That by faire shewes did mens affections feele,
Gold (his attendant) alwayes at his heele.
Whole mannors did him reverence as he staid, 425
Whose name (if written) could possession plead
In any Lordship that adjoyned his:
Law was his vassall, he and purchase kisse.
Zeale was his foole, and learning was his jester,
Yet pride his page, and gluttony his taster. 430
A thousand suiters wayted at his hand,
Some call’d his honour patrone of the land;
The sole commander of the common-weale,
And unto him they humbly all appeale.
When in a closet strangely I beheld, 435
That was adjoyning to a pleasant field,
How every suiter, when he was retyr’d,
Bought out his peace, or his promotion hyr’d;
Yet what he won with curses was rewarded,
When the poore birds, for bribes alone regarded. 440
To th’secret of all secrets when I came,
Having mine eyes glew’d up with griefe and shame:
I tell not how the Vulture sate apart,
Spending the blood and marrow of his heart,
And by all meanes his faculties t’apply, 445
To taynt the Phoenix by his surquedry,
That of her kind had shee beene more then one,
(Parent and infant to her selfe alone)
This heavenly bird (in touching their defame)
Had had her purple soyled with their shame. 450
And for the Turtle would not be unchaste,
Her did they banish to the barren waste.
I dare not say how every sort were search’d,
Nor dare I tell how avarice was perch’d
Under the pillow of the gravest head, 455
(That freedome with the golden world is dead)
How age had cast off a religious life,
Humour of late become opinions wife.
Counsaile secure, nor compani’d with care,
The wit that woundeth zeale, accounted rare. 460
But whither wandreth my high-ravisht muse?
O, pardon liege, the fierce exclaimes I use;
And let my barque (by gales of your good grace
Through these rough seas) beare sayle a little space.
Scarce had these words found uttrance through my lips, 465
But therewithall a prattling Parrot skips
About the private lodging of his peeres:
His eyes were watchfull, open were his eares:
He had a tongue for every language fit,
A cheverell conscience, and a searching wit, 470
Comming in haste as he had crost the mayne,
And brought some strange intelligence from Spaine:
Yet even at mid-night (for the rogue was poore)
I found him knocking at a great mans doore;
And where of course the wise were turn’d away, 475
His errand brook’d no dilatorie stay,
But presently conducted (by a light)
Into a chamber very richly dight,
Where sat the Vulture with a dreadfull frowne,
Proud and ambitious, gaping for renowne: 480
His tallons red with bloud of murth’red fowles,
His full eye quickly every way he rowles.
Whom when this Parrot stedfastly beheld,
His feathers brisled and his stomake sweld;
And to the Vulture openeth where he sat, 485
(Whose eares attentive listned still thereat)
The state and haviour of each private man,
Laid out for searching avarice to scan.
Where by strict rule and subtilties in art,
Such traps were set, as not a man could start. 490
And where th’offenders maintenance was great,
Their working heads they busily did beat,
By some strange quiddit or some wrested clause,
To find him guiltie of the breach of lawes,
That he this present injurie to shift, 495
To buy his owne, accounts a princely gift:
And for a cloke to their corrupt decrees,
The Vulture with this subtill bird agrees,
That they which thus convicted are apart,
Shall be surpriz’d by policy and art. 500
Then picke they forth such theeves as hate the light,
The blacke-ey’d Bat (the watch-man of the night)
That to each private family can pry,
And the least slip can easily descry;
And since his conscience is both loose and large, 505
Is onely set to under-goe this charge;
Addrest to drinke of every private cup,
And not a word slips but he takes it up,
To minister occasion of discourse, 509
And therewithall, some dangerous theame inforce,
To urge a doubtfull speech up to the worst,
To broach new treasons, and disclose them first,
Whereby himseif
e he cleeres, and un-awares
Intraps the fowle, unskilfull of these snares.
And (against law) he beares his lords protection, 515
As a fit meane, and by the states direction.
O worthy bird, prevent this ill in time,
And suffer not this ravenous Bat to climbe,
That is occasion of the bests offence,
The brat of ryot and of indigence, 520
The moth and canker of the common-weale,
Bred by corruption to disquiet zeale.
Holla! thou wandring infant of my brayne,
Whither thus fling’st thou? yet divert thy strayne,
Returne we back unto our former gate, 525
From which a little we digrest of late,
And leave this monster beating of his head,
And honest Owle hath quickly strooke him dead.
And forth againe the Parrot let us find,
That winning credit so the worlddoth blind, 530
Under protection of so dread a hand,
Spoyles families, and ransacketh thy land.
The Pellicane that by his fathers teaching,
Hath with devout zeal follow’d wholesome preaching,
That rent his bosome, and inforc’d his tongue, 535
To teach his tender and beloved young:
When now these fauters of all vile abuse,
Have found a stand where they may note his use,
How father-like he gives affliction bread,
Converting soules, by blind-fold error led? 540
The naked orphane in his bosome wraps,
With the poore widdow doth bewaile her haps;
And never reapes his plentious field so cleane,
But leaves his harvest that the poore may gleane;
Steps in this false spie, this promoting wretch, 545
Closely betrayes him that he gives to each:
And for his deeds of charitie and grace,
Roots up his godly hospitable place.
Most like to that sharpe-sighted Alcatras,
That beates the aire above the liquid glasse: 550
The new-worlds bird, that proud imperious fowle,
Whose dreadfull presence frights the harmelesse Owle:
That on the land not onely works his wish,
But on the ocean kills the flying fish.
Which, since the Owle hath truely done his arrant:
O, princely Eagle, looke unto this tyrant. 556
But if my words thou wilfully impung,
Thy peaceful empire that hath flourish’d long,
Headlong at length shall to confusion run,
As was this great globe ere the world begun, 560
When in an huge heape and unweldy masse,
This All was shut and Nature smothered was:
And in this lumpe and chaos out of frame,
The contraries convers’d and one became,
Strictly together th’elements were clasp’d, 565
And in their rough hands one the other grasp’d:
That each did others qualitie deface,
Beautie was buried, light could find no place.
But when th’all-seeing soveraigne did disperse,
Each to his place upon the Universe, 570
To his owne region and his contrarie,
Envy’d his place, impung’d his qualitie.
Fire, ayre, earth, water, in their mansion sate,
By that great God to them appropriate.
All was compos’d within this goodly roome, 575
A perfect shape this embrion was become;
Which thus dissever’d by their friendly jarres,
Contrive the worlds continuance by their warres.
So in confusion members are inclos’d:
To frame a state, if orderly dispos’d: 580
For to the proud malevolent aspect
Of angry Saturne that would all direct,
The long exiled, but imperious Jove,
When for his regall soveraigntie he strove,
With god-like state and presence of a king, 585
Calmes Saturnes rage, his fury limiting.
But leave we those unto their owne decay,
Other occasions hasten us away:
Let Princes view what their poore subjects try;
‘Blind is that sight, that’s with anothers eye; 590
It is full time that we should get us hence,
O mightie soveraigne, oceans of offence,
Stand here opposed in my passing by,
When in a chamber neere thy majestie,
A jetting Jay accomplished and brave, 595
That well could speake, well could himselfe behave;
His congies courtly, his demeanour rare,
And strangely fashion’d as the clothes he ware;
Which could each man with complement salute,
Hee to the Wood-Cocke fram’d a speciall suite: 600
Who him imbracing like a brainelesse foole,
Desir’d him sit, commanding him a stoole.
The jolly Jay thus graced by a peere,
Plucks up his spirits, and with a formall cheere
Breaks therewithall into most strange reports, 605
Of Flemmish newes, surprising townes and forts;
Of troubles rays’d in France against the King,
Spanish Armado’s and embattayling,
Protesting method in intelligence,
To be a thing of mightie consequence; 610
And pawnes his soule, he can devise a way,
Which put in act, the leaguers lose the day,
To frame a bridge of bow-string o’r the Rhine,
Supplant the Alpes, and lay them smooth and plaine,
And that if the great Princes of the north, 615
Will with an armie royall set him forth,
Before the yeere expir’d that is to come,
He will with Burbon new beleaguer Rome.
Then of his knowledge in the Cabalist,
And what pertayneth to an exorcist: 620
As of philacters what their uses bee,
Homers Nepenthe how in each degree;
Each severall use in practique what it is;
How much he wants that doth these secrets misse,
To give some window or some chimney grace,
He to proportion presently doth runne,
And talkes of the Colossus of the sunne;
Of columnes the diameters doth tell,
Even from the base, up to the capitell. 630
And to the roofe he something doth allude,
And doth demonstrate of the magnitude.
And what is all this from his addle pate,
But like a Starling, that is taught to prate?
And with a lisping garbe (this most rare man) 635
Speakes French, Dutch, Spanish, and Italian.
No day doth passe, he doth his compasse misse,
To send to that lord, or to visit this,
And kissing of his claw, his cox-combe bare,
Is come to see how their good graces fare. 640
And presently he to their face reports,
Their rare perfections wondred at in courts;
Scratching the ideot by his itching eares;
Heaven spit downe vengeance, or dissolve in teares,
And send the Ibis to repulse our shame, 645
To drive these locusts to whence first they came.
Woe to these slaves whose shape the devill tooke,
To tempt the holy Esay at his booke.
O morall Mantuan, live thy verses long,
Honour attend thee, and thy reverend song! 650
Who seekes for truth (say’st thou) must tread the path
Of the sweet private life, which envies wrath,
Which pois’ned tongues, with vaine affected praise,
Cannot by scorne suppresse, by flatterie raise.
For adulation
, but if search be made 655
His daily mansion, his most usuall trade,
Is in the monarchs court, in princes hals,
Where godly zeale he by contempt inthrals.
There calls he evill good, the good termes evill,
And makes a saint of an incarnate devill. 660
These boldly censure, and dare set at nought
The noblest wit, the most heroike thought.
This carion Jay, approching to the spring,
Where the sweet Muses wont to sit and sing,
With filthy ordure so the same defil’d, 665
As they from thence are utterly exil’d.
Banisht their issue, from whose sacred rage,
Flowes the full glorie of each plenteous age,
Still with the prophets challenging their parts,
The sweet companions of the lib’ral arts. 670
Those rare Promethii, fetching fire from heaven;
To whom the functions of the gods are given,
Raising fraile dust with their redoubled flame,
Mounted with hymnes upon the wings of fame;
Ordain’d by nature (truch-men for the great) 675
To fire their noble hearts with glorious heat.
You sun-bred ayerie, whose immortall birth,
Beares you aloft beyond the sight of earth,
The heaven-tuch’d feathers of whose sprightly wings,
Strikes (from above) the palaces of kings. 680
By how much neerer you ascend the skye,
Doe lessen still to every mortall eye;
Who in this time contemptfull greatnesse late
Scornd and disgrac’d, which earst renown’d her state.
O bastard mindes unto this vilenesse brought, 685
To loath the meanes which first your honours wrought!
But who their great profession can protect,
That rob themselves of their owne due respect?
For they whose minds should be exhal’d and hie,
As free and noble as cleere poesie, 690
In the slight favour of some lord to come,
Basely doe crouch to his attending groome.
Immortall gift that art not bought with gold,
That thou to peasants should be basely sold!
Hence as I went, I chanc’d to looke aside, 695
And neere at hand I happily espide
The Hedge-Sparrow, and her compeere the Wren,
(Which simple people call our Ladies-Hen)
Out of the way, i’th’ bottome of a ditch,
Which though the place poore, yet the feeding rich, 700
For neere at hand grew the brown Winter-cherrie,
The Hip, the Haw, the Slow, the Bramble-berrie;
And as together calmely they were set,
(Where oft before I might perceive they met)
Quoth the Wren, gossip, be you rul’d by me, 705
And though men say, the weaker sex we be,