Certaine Select Epigrams

O Age what art thou made of? sure thou art,
Compos'd of other mettall then thou wert,
Once was thy glory by thy vertues showen,
But now alas thy vertues are vnknowen.
For who should show worth but great men? yet each day
Shews by experience, None more ill then they,
Where Honour on a foote-cloth's wont to passe,
Like Appians Land Lord on his trapped Asse.
'Lasse I haue seen what I haue grieu'd to see,
Honour with vertue nere keepe companie.
But if they doe (as some obseruance make)
It's not for Conscience, but for fashion sake.
O then how vaine is time, to showre down good,
On such as are but great, only by blood;
Not true demerits which makes me contemne,
The idle passions of phantasticke men,
Which think't sufficient to be great in state,
Without least vertue fit to imitate:
This makes me hence conclude: vice puts on honour:
"For vertue, there is none will looke vpon her.

I in my time haue seene an vpstart Lord,
Raised to sudden honour like a Gourd,
Whom in as small time I may chance to see,
As Ionah's gourd, so withered he may be,
And what's the cause? because its not demerit
Or true descent, by which he doth inherit,
Such new stolne honors: for then might his name
Freely such estimation seeme to claime:
But an insinuating humour drawen,
"From that same sorce of vice, that lothsome spawne
Of all distempered passions, which can be
Mark't with no better name then flatterie
And is this way to purchase honour trewly?
Can such a man be sayd to merit dewly?
When hows'ere we admire him for his seate.
"It was not worth, but basenesse made him great.
O Time, how strangely art thou varied,
From what thou once appear'd; how art thou led
By euery fashion-monger that doth stand
More on the egge fying of his band
His peak't munchattoes, his Venetian hose.
His Buskin-pace, how Gorgon-like he goes,
His crispled haire, his fixing of his eye,
His ceruss-cheeke, and such effemnacie:
"Then on tru-man-like Vertues: for its common,
Women are liker men, men liker women;
Sith I no other difference can make,
'Twixt man and woman saue the outward shape
Their mind's all one: nor doth their shape appeare
Much different: since women th'breeches weare:
Which fashion now to th'Countrey makes resort,
In imitation of their weare at Court;
Where it is sayd to shun the meanes of sinnen,
Came that vse vp to weare their breekes of linnen;
And can we see this and not pittie it
When men that haue more complement then wit,
Shine in the eye of popular respect,
And others of more worth droope in neglect?
We cannot: yet must we admire them still,
(That worthlesse are) though't be against our will,
What remedy? Ile tell thee, though thou dare not,
But congy when thou meets them: laugh & spare not
So 't be in priuate, burst thy sides with laughter,
And whilest th'art laughing, Ile come lashing after:
Mean time (with silence) I would haue thee hear me,
That haue compos'd these Epigrams to cheere thee.
Take them how ere they be: if owre in taste,
Reforme thy errors which are former past:
If sweet, let th'relish of my poems moue
That loue in thee, to thanke me for my loue: