Epigram
At ten a Clock, when I the Fire rake,
I then a Verse of twice ten words do make;
And in the Morning, when for Coals I look,
One of twice nine I in the Ashes hook.
Turn but five Leaves, and there you'll surely find
Some of the first, and some of th'other kind.
He certainly is in the Right
Who mingles Profit with Delight .
Men of Learning, Sense, and Reason
Have to ev'ry thing a Season;
As the Summer serves the Mason,
And the Winter time the Thrasher,
Market-days the Haberdasher,
Sun-shine Hay-harvest and the Washer.
Dear Children! Come and look
Often in your Father's book;
Not only look, but understand,
For Learning's more than house and land.
A house may burn, the land be spent,
True Learning never has an end:
True Learning is most excellent.
From Poetry Poverty in all ages arose;
Therefore, my Children, content you with Prose.
Cowslips never hurted none;
But let Girls' Lips alone:
Thereby many were undone.
If Patience in the heart be planted,
It may be found as soon as wanted;
But this Per Force ought to be granted,
That that kind, which our garden breeds,
Is often over run by Weeds.
Then men must do what they must needs.
Whatever in my garden grows ,
God's Goodness, Might, and Wisdom shows;
This threefold Attribute I see
In ev'ry Herb, Flow'r, Shrub and Tree:
Each Tree, Shrub, Herb, and Flower cries,
He's bounteous, powerful and wise.
My hopes and hops do grow together,
And both exceeding brave.
However, if God change the weather,
For Ought I nought may have.
These Garden-Tricks , how men may render
Their Pompions thick, their Salads tender,
Their Turnips large, their Vines to teem,
To Madcaps do like Witchcraft seem.
My garden's fruitful womb is always breeding ,
When one thing dies, another is succeeding;
It's never barren, but sends ever forth
Flow'rs, herbs and Roots, admir'd for their Worth.
The English can eat flesh both without herbs and bread,
Flesh without herbs and bread to Germans is black Lead.
The more men tread on Chamomil ,
The quicklier it revives;
The sorer they of Truth speak ill,
The better it still thrives.
Tho' Thorns be prickly, and Nettles sore burning,
Hair brained men ticklish, fool hardy ones spurning,
Yet none of all these so much given
To Secret Sins and Inward Evil,
As Counterfeited Friends, who're driven
By a hypocritical Devil.
Let Kings and Princes keep the wide Earth-Ball,
I would not change my Garden with them all.
Men and their Garden- mould are of the selfsame stuff,
What reason have they then to hector and to huff?
As if their bodily terrestrial Descent
Of high-breath'd AEther were, that purest Element;
Whenas Experience does Convince them, that they must
Revolve back whence they came, and so resolve to Dust.
My Jolly Columbines: some white, some red, some blue,
Are Emblems of Man's Age, significant and true;
For Childhood favours milk, Youth's fiery, tough as glue,
Decrepits, old and cold, are of a with'red hue.
A man us'd to the Spade, or such like Instrument,
Oft to the Purpose speaks Things very congruent;
But Doctors frequently do miss, and cannot hit
The Nail upon the head: are talking more than 't's fit.
The Lust of Flesh and Eyes, The Pride of Life,
Are three most noisome weeds, which rankly thrive
In Rich men's well dung'd grounds; mine being poor,
Thanks be to God, they are kept out of door.
The hours for Sleep I thus prefix:
To Students five; to Merchants six,
To Gentlemen I do grant seven,
To Sluggards eight, to Fools eleven.
Hans Sachs and David Lindsay write,
And all is Verse what they indite,
But Verse per verse, which Modern's loath.
Pray! tell me WHO is best of both?
The German doubtless will say Sachs,
The English of his Lindsay cracks.
White Lillies yield the sweetest Smell
When Virgin like they stand;
I mean, when (understand me well)
Untouched by humane hand.
So is the Sacred Writ of old
Without the Newish Gloss,
Of Glossers, and of Glossers bold,
Away with all their Dross!
IF ev'ry man, or reasonable Creature,
Would only use what's requisite by Nature,
They all might feed on Wheaten Flow'r most fine,
Drink Beer and Ale, yea nothing else than Wine;
BUT, a great BUT! the richest and the greatest
Amongst mankind do prove Degeneratest,
Misspend and waste their Liquor and their Food:
What's left for us? Scarce any thing that's good.
Brass almost looks like Gold , and still it is but Brass,
So English Pewter may with Fools for Silver pass:
Oh! hoh! what Diff'rence between Ox and Ass!
I then a Verse of twice ten words do make;
And in the Morning, when for Coals I look,
One of twice nine I in the Ashes hook.
Turn but five Leaves, and there you'll surely find
Some of the first, and some of th'other kind.
He certainly is in the Right
Who mingles Profit with Delight .
Men of Learning, Sense, and Reason
Have to ev'ry thing a Season;
As the Summer serves the Mason,
And the Winter time the Thrasher,
Market-days the Haberdasher,
Sun-shine Hay-harvest and the Washer.
Dear Children! Come and look
Often in your Father's book;
Not only look, but understand,
For Learning's more than house and land.
A house may burn, the land be spent,
True Learning never has an end:
True Learning is most excellent.
From Poetry Poverty in all ages arose;
Therefore, my Children, content you with Prose.
Cowslips never hurted none;
But let Girls' Lips alone:
Thereby many were undone.
If Patience in the heart be planted,
It may be found as soon as wanted;
But this Per Force ought to be granted,
That that kind, which our garden breeds,
Is often over run by Weeds.
Then men must do what they must needs.
Whatever in my garden grows ,
God's Goodness, Might, and Wisdom shows;
This threefold Attribute I see
In ev'ry Herb, Flow'r, Shrub and Tree:
Each Tree, Shrub, Herb, and Flower cries,
He's bounteous, powerful and wise.
My hopes and hops do grow together,
And both exceeding brave.
However, if God change the weather,
For Ought I nought may have.
These Garden-Tricks , how men may render
Their Pompions thick, their Salads tender,
Their Turnips large, their Vines to teem,
To Madcaps do like Witchcraft seem.
My garden's fruitful womb is always breeding ,
When one thing dies, another is succeeding;
It's never barren, but sends ever forth
Flow'rs, herbs and Roots, admir'd for their Worth.
The English can eat flesh both without herbs and bread,
Flesh without herbs and bread to Germans is black Lead.
The more men tread on Chamomil ,
The quicklier it revives;
The sorer they of Truth speak ill,
The better it still thrives.
Tho' Thorns be prickly, and Nettles sore burning,
Hair brained men ticklish, fool hardy ones spurning,
Yet none of all these so much given
To Secret Sins and Inward Evil,
As Counterfeited Friends, who're driven
By a hypocritical Devil.
Let Kings and Princes keep the wide Earth-Ball,
I would not change my Garden with them all.
Men and their Garden- mould are of the selfsame stuff,
What reason have they then to hector and to huff?
As if their bodily terrestrial Descent
Of high-breath'd AEther were, that purest Element;
Whenas Experience does Convince them, that they must
Revolve back whence they came, and so resolve to Dust.
My Jolly Columbines: some white, some red, some blue,
Are Emblems of Man's Age, significant and true;
For Childhood favours milk, Youth's fiery, tough as glue,
Decrepits, old and cold, are of a with'red hue.
A man us'd to the Spade, or such like Instrument,
Oft to the Purpose speaks Things very congruent;
But Doctors frequently do miss, and cannot hit
The Nail upon the head: are talking more than 't's fit.
The Lust of Flesh and Eyes, The Pride of Life,
Are three most noisome weeds, which rankly thrive
In Rich men's well dung'd grounds; mine being poor,
Thanks be to God, they are kept out of door.
The hours for Sleep I thus prefix:
To Students five; to Merchants six,
To Gentlemen I do grant seven,
To Sluggards eight, to Fools eleven.
Hans Sachs and David Lindsay write,
And all is Verse what they indite,
But Verse per verse, which Modern's loath.
Pray! tell me WHO is best of both?
The German doubtless will say Sachs,
The English of his Lindsay cracks.
White Lillies yield the sweetest Smell
When Virgin like they stand;
I mean, when (understand me well)
Untouched by humane hand.
So is the Sacred Writ of old
Without the Newish Gloss,
Of Glossers, and of Glossers bold,
Away with all their Dross!
IF ev'ry man, or reasonable Creature,
Would only use what's requisite by Nature,
They all might feed on Wheaten Flow'r most fine,
Drink Beer and Ale, yea nothing else than Wine;
BUT, a great BUT! the richest and the greatest
Amongst mankind do prove Degeneratest,
Misspend and waste their Liquor and their Food:
What's left for us? Scarce any thing that's good.
Brass almost looks like Gold , and still it is but Brass,
So English Pewter may with Fools for Silver pass:
Oh! hoh! what Diff'rence between Ox and Ass!
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