Classic Poem

Si r :
I've read of Ilands floating, and remov'd,
In Ovids time, but never heard it prov'd
Till now: that Fable, by the Prince and you ,
By your transporting England , is made true.
Wee are not where wee were; the Dog-starr raignes
No cooler in our Climate, then in Spaines ;
The selfe same breath, same ayre, same heate, same burning
Is here, as there; will be, till your returning:
Come, e're the Card be alter'd, lest perhaps
Your stay may make an Errour in our mapps;
Lest England should be found, when you shall passe,
A thousand miles more Southward then it was.
Oh that you were (my Lord), oh that you were
Now in Blackfryers in a disguis'd haire;
That you were Smith againe, two houres to bee
In Paules next Sunday, at full Sea at three:
There you should heare the Legend of each day,
The perills of your Inne, and of your way;
Your enterprises, accidents, untill
You did arrive at Court, and reach Madrill.
There you should heare, how the State-Grandees flout you,
With their twice-double diligence about you;
How our environ'd Prince walkes with a guard
Of Spanish Spies, and his owne Servants barr'd;
How not a Chaplaine of his owne may stay,
When hee would heare a Sermon preach'd, or pray.
You would be hungry, having din'd, to heare
The price of victuailes, and the scarcity, there:
As if the Prince had ventur'd there his life
To make a famine , not to fetch a wife .
Your eggs (which might be addle too) are deare
As English Capons; Capons as Sheepe, here.
No grasse, neither, for Cattle; for they say
It is not cutt and made, grasse there growes Hay:
That 'tis soe seething hott in Spaine, they sweare,
They never heard of a raw oyster there.
Your cold meate comes in reaking; and your wine
Is all burnt -sack, the fire was in the Vine.
Item , your Pullets are distinguish't there
Into foure quarters , as wee carve the yeare,
And are a weeke awasting: Munday noone
A wing; at supper something with a spoone;
Tuesday a legg, and soe forth: Sunday more;
The Liver and a Gizard betweene foure.
And for your mutton, in the best houshoulder
Tis felony to cheapen a whole shoulder.
Lord! how our stomackes come to us againe,
When wee conceive what snatching is in Spaine ;
I, whilst I write, and doe the newes repeate,
Am forc't to call for breakfast in; and eate.
And doe you wonder at the dearth the while?
The Flouds, that make it, run in th'middle Ile,
Poets of Paules , those of Duke Humfryes messe,
That feede on nought but graves, and emptinesse.
But heark you ( noble Sir ), in one crosse weeke
My Lord hath lost a thowsand pound at gleeke.
And though they doe allow but Little meate,
They are content your losses should be great .
False, on my Deanery ! falser then your fare is;
Or then your difference with Cond' de Olivares ;
Which was reported strongly for one tyde,
But, after six houres floating, ebb'd, and dyde.
If God would not this great designe should be
Perfect, and round, without some knavery;
Nor that our Prince should end this Enterprize,
But for soe many miles, soe many lyes;
If, for a good event, the Heav'ns doe please
Mens tongues should become rougher then the Seas;
And that th'expence of Paper shall be such;
First written , then translated out of Dutch :
Corantoes, Diets, Packets, Newes, more Newes,
Which soe much innocent whitenesse doth abuse;
If first the Belgicke Pismire must be seene,
Before the Spanish Lady be our Queene ;
With such successe, and such an end at last,
All's wellcome, pleasant, gratefull, that is past.
And such an end wee pray that you should see,
A Type of that, which mother Zebedee .
Wisht for her sonnes in heav'n; The Prince and You
At either hand of Iames , (You need not sue)
Hee on the right, you on the left, the King
Safe in the mid'st, you both invironing.
Then shall I tell my Lord, his word, and band
Are forfeit, till I kisse the Princes hand;
Then shall I tell the Duke, Your Royall Friend
Gave all the other Honours, this You earn'd ;
This you have wrought for, this you hammer'd out
Like a strong Smith , good workman, and a stout.
In this I have a part, In this I see
Some new addition smiling upon mee:
Who, in an humble distance, claime a share
In all your greatnesse; what soe ere you are.