Classic Poem

To Hearsay , enter Slicer and Credulous .

Hear. Sir let me tell you this is not the least
Of things wherein your wisedome shewes it self,
In that you 've plac'd your Son in this good sort.
Cred. Nay nay, let me alone to give him breeding;
I did not hold the University
Fit for the training up of such a Spirit.
Slic. The University ? 't had been the only way
T' have took him off his courage, and his mettal,
He had return'd as Slaves doe from the Gallies,
A naked shorn thing with a thin dockt top,
Learnedly cut into a Logick mode.
Hear. A private Oath given him at first Entrance
Had sworn him Pilgrim unto Conventicles;
Engag'd him to the hate of all, but what
Pleaseth the stubborn froward Elect.
Slic. But we
Following another Modell doe allow
Freedome and courage, cherish and maintaine
High noble thoughts — —
Hear. Set nature free, and are
Chymists of manners — —
Sli. Do instruct of States — —
Hear. And Wars: there's one, look on him — —
Slic. Doe but view
That searching Head — —
Hear. The very soule of Battell,
True steele.
Slic. H' hath been an Agent some few years
(A score or so) for Princes, and as yet
Doth not write forty.
Hear. I confesse I can
Discover th' Entrailes of a State perhaps,
Lay open a Kingdoms Paunches, shew the bowels
And inwards of a Seigniory or two;
But for your deeds of Valour, there is one,
Although I speak it to his face, that can
Write a Geography by his own Conquests.
H' hath fought o'r Strabo, Ptolomy and Stafford;
Travell'd as far in arms, as Lithgoe naked.
Born weapons whither Cortat durst not
Carry a shirt or shooes. Jack Mandevil
Ne'r saild so far as he hath steerd by Land;
Using his Colours both for mast and saile.
Cred. I'd thought h' had been Lieutenant.
Hear. That's all one.
Slic. I've worn some Leather out abroad; let out
A heathen Soul or two; fed this good sword
With the black bloud of Pagan Christians;
Converted a few Infidels with it.
But let that passe. That man of peace there hath
Been trusted with Kings Breasts — —
Hear. His name is heard
Like Thunder, and that meer word, Slicer , hath
Sufficed unto victory.
Slic. He's close,
Reserv'd, lock'd up. The secrets of the King
Or Tartary , of China , and some other
Counsels of moment have been so long kept
In's body without vent, that every morning
Before he covers them with some warme thing
Or other you may smell 'em very strongly;
Distinguish each of them by severall sents — —
Hear. A grove of Pikes are rushes to him, hail
More frights you, than a shower of Bullets him — —
Slic. The Dutch come up like broken beer; the Irish
Savour of Usquebaugh; the Spanish they
Smell like unto perfume at first, but then
After a while end in a fatall steame — —
Hear. One Drum's his Table, the other is his Musick.
His Sword's his Knife, his Colours are his Napkins,
Carves nourishing Horse, as he is us'd to do
The hostile Pagan, or we venison: Eates
Gunpowder with his meat instead of Pepper,
Then drinks o'r all his Bandeleers, and fights — —
Slic. Secrets are rank'd and order'd in his belly,
Just like Tobacco leaves laid in a sweat.
Here lies a row of Indian secrets, then
Something of's own on them; on that another
Of China Counsels, cover'd with a lidd
Of New-found-land discoveries; next, a bed
Of Russia Policies, on them a lay
Of Prester-Johnion whispers — —
Hear. Slights a tempest;
Counts lightning but a giving fire, and thunder
The loud report when heaven hath discharg'd.
H'hath with his breadth supplyd a breach.
When he's once fixt no Engine can remove him.
Slic. 'Twould be a Policy worth hatching, to
Have him dissected, if 'twere not too cruell.
All states would lye as open as his bowels.
Turkey in 's bloudy Liver; Italy
Be found in's reines; Spaine busie in his Stomack;
Venice would float in's Bladder; Holland saile
Up and down all his veines; Bavaria lie
Close in some little gut, and Ragioni
Di Stato generally reek in all.
Cred. I see my Son's too happy; he is born
To be some man of Action, some Engine
For th' overthrow of Kingdomes.
Hear. Troth he may
Divert the Torrent of the Turkish rule
Into some other Tract; damme up the streame
Of that vast headlong Monarchy, if that
He want not meanes to compasse his intents.
Cred. The Turkish Monarchy's a thing too big
For him to mannage; he may make perhaps
The Governour of some new little Island,
And there plant Faith and Zeale: But for the present
M' ambition's only to contrive a Match
Between Sir Thomas Bite-figg's only Daughter,
And (if I may so call him now) my Son;
'Twill raise his Fortunes somewhat.
Slic. We have got
One that will doe more good with's tongue that way
Than that uxorious showre that came from Heaven.
But you must oyle it first.
Cred. I understand you.
Greaze him i'th' fist you meane: there's just ten Peeces,
'Tis but an earnest: If he bring 't about,
I'le make those ten a hundred.
Hear. Thinke it done.