Classic Poem

SAT. VII.

Seest thou how gayly my young maister goes,
Vaunting himselfe vpon his rising toes,
And pranks his hand vpon his dagger-side,
And picks his glutted teeth since late Noon-tide?
T's Ruffio : Trow'st thou where he dind to day:
In sooth I sawe him sit with Duke Humfray .
Many good welcoms, and much Gratis cheere,
Keepes he for euery stragling Caualeere :
An open house haunted with great resort,
Long seruice mixt with Musicall disport.
Many a fayre yonker with a fether'd crest,
Chooses much rather be his shot free guest,
To fare so freely with so little cost,
Then stake his Twelue-pence to a meaner host.
Hadst thou not tould me, I should surely say,
He touch't no meat of all this liue-long day.
For sure methought, yet that was but a ghesse,
His eyes seeme sunke for very hollownesse.
But could he haue (as I did it mistake)
So little in his purse, so much vpon 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 heauie Iron makes girdles slip,
Yet for all that, how stifly strits he by,
All trapped in the new-found brauery.
The Nuns of new-woon Cales his bonnet lent,
In lieu of their so kinde a Conquerment.
What neded he fetch that from farthest Spaine ,
His Grandame could haue lent with lesser paine?
Tho he perhaps neuer past the English shore;
Yet faine would counted be a Conquerour.
His haire French-like ; stares on his frighted head,
One locke Amazon-like disheueled:
As if he ment to weare a natiue cord,
If chance his Fates should him that bane afforde.
All Brittish bare vpon the bristled skin,
Close notched is his beard both lip and chin.
His linnen coller Labyrinthian -set,
Whose thousand double turnes neuer met:
His sleeues halfe hid with elbow- Pineonings ,
As if he ment to flye with linnen wings.
But when I looke and cast mine eyes below,
What monster meets mine eyes in humane show?
So slender wast with such an Abbots loyne,
Did neuer sober nature sure conioyne:
Lik'st a strawne scar-crow in the new-sowne field,
Reard on some sticke, the tender corne to shield:
Or if that semblance sute not euery deale,
Like a broad shak-forke with a slender steale.
Despised Nature suit them once aright,
Their body to their cote: both now mis-dight:
Their body to their clothes might shapen bee,
That nill their clothes be shap'd to their body.
Meane while I wonder at so proud a backe,
Whiles th' emptie guts loud rumblen for long lacke.
The belly enuieth the backs bright glee,
And murmurs at such inequalitie.
The backe appeales vnto the partiall eyne,
The plaintiue belly pleades they bribed beene:
And he for want of better Aduocate,
Doth to the eare his iniurie relate.
The backe insulting ore the bellies need,
Saies: thou thy selfe, I others eyes must feede.
The maw, the guts, all inward parts complaine
The backs great pride, and their owne secret paine.
Ye witlesse gallants, I beshrew your hearts,
That set such discord twixt agreeing parts,
Which neuer can be set at onement more,
Vntill the mawes wide mouth be stopt with store.