Epistles 1.7 (Creech): Quinque Dies Tibi Pollicitus

IN five days time I promis'd You, My Lord,
To be in Town—
And yet all August past have broak my word;
But, Sir, if you design that I should live,
Whilst now I fear I shall be sickly, give
That pardon to me which you would allow,
Suppose, My Lord, I were already so:
Whilst Autumn burns, and Dog-stars beams do rage,
Whilst all Diseases that attend on Age
Are waiting now upon the Aged year,
Whilst frequent Mourners in sad Pomp appear,
And careful Parents for their Children fear.
When each Officious Visit surely kills,
It raiseth Feavers and unseals our Wills;
If Winter's sharp, and spreads the fields with Snows
Down to the warm Sea side thy Poet goes,
There study little, and take soft repose.
And then when Spring returns, and Swallows come,
I'le see you, if you please, My Lord, at Rome:

Your kindness makes me rich, unlike to theirs
Who thus invite their Guests to Eat their Pears.
Come, pray Sir eat: Sir I'me content with these;
Then pray, Sir, take as many as you please:
Your little Boys will eat them tho but small,
Thanks, Sir, as much as if I took them All:
Then pray, Sir, take them, yet as you think fit,
But all the Pears you leave my Hogs must eat:
Fools only give what they do scorn and hate,
This Seed still hath, and still will bear ingrate:
But when the Wife Men and the good bestow,
Tho They true worth, from bare pretences know,
They tell you, you deserv'd it long ago.
If you would have me still attend you train,
Restore my Vigour and my Youth again:
My curl'd black Locks spread o're my narrow face,
Restore my merry talk, and smiling grace;
And make me fit again for Loves design,
And t'mourn coy Cynera o're a glass of Wine.
A hungry Fox when pincht for want of Meat
Crept thro a little hole to heaps of Wheat,
And there well fill'd he would return again
Thro the same chink; He strove, but strove in vain:

When lo the Weesel cry'd, absur'd design,
Fox, you were thin and lean when you got in,
And if you would get out be quite as thin.
Is this apply'd to me? I now restore
The Gifts that came from You, and ask no more.
The common People's sleep I do not praise,
Cause full my self and sure of happy Days.
Nor would I sell my freedom and my Ease,
For rich Arabia, or the richer Seas.
My Lord Mecoenas, you do oft admire
And praise the Modesty of my desire,
You King and Father I do oft confess,
When present, and when absent speak no less:
Now try if I can quietly resign
What e're I have, be poor, and not repine:
Telemachus said well, a barren place
I rule, unfit for Horse, it yields no grass;
Nor is it spread into a spacious Plain.
Atrides take your Presents back again:
Mean Things do suit mean Men. Unmov'd I see
Rome's Pomp and State, they are no Charms to Me.
But unfrequented Tybur's quiet ease,
The shady Plains, and soft Tarentum please.
Philip the famous Lawyer coming home,
(And as He walk't the tedious streets of Rome;
Now old, complaining from his House to Court
Did seem a tedious way, tho once but short)
He saw a spruce neat fellow of the Town
Paring his Nails hard by, and all alone.
Demetrius (he then waited on his Lord)
Go quickly, run, enquire and bring me word,
Who that Man is, what Trade, and what Estate,
Who is his Patron, go, and tell me straight.
He runs, comes back, and says; the Man by Name,
Vulteius Menas, spotless in his Fame,
By Trade a Cryer, his Estate but small,
Enough for Nature's Wants, and that's his All.
Now takes his Ease, and now his Game pursues,
Knows how to get him Wealth, and how to use
His Friends, his Equals, and his House his own;
And when his Bus'ness and his Cares are gone,
He freely takes the pleasures of the Town.
Well, I must talk with him, go streight invite,
Go tell him He must Sup with me to night.
He went, but Mena scarce believes the Boy,
Silently wondering betwixt Fear and Joy:
At last pleads business: What am I deny'd?
Yes he denys you out of Fear, or Pride:
Next Morning early Philip chanc't to meet
Ulteius, selling Toys about the Street.
He comes up to him there, and kindly said,
Good-morrow, first. Mena excus'd his Trade,
The Clog that hindred that he did not wait
This Morning early at his Worship's Gate;
And lastly that He had not seen him first.
Says Philip, If you'l Sup with me to night,
I will forgive you: Sir, what you think fit:
I'le wait on you; Then come at Three, he said;
Besure you come, now go, and mind your Trade.
He came and Sup'd, and talk't, and well content,
He thankt his Worship, and away he went.
When after this he was observ'd to wait,
And often come to tast the Treacherous Bait.
Each Morn a Client, and a Guest at Noon;
One Feast when no Court business could be done;
His Patron ask't him to ride out a Town.
He yields, and mounted on a stately Horse,
He entertains him with a long discourse;
The Sabine healthy Air, and fruitful Field
He praiseth; Philip saw his drift and smil'd,
And so to end the talk, and make more sport,
He gives him, (and to cut the Story short)
Lends him two hundred pounds; and then persuades
To buy a Farm, and leave his former Trades;
He takes the Counsel, buys, and leaves the Town,
Puts off the modish Spark, and turns a Clown:
Talks nothing but of Furrows and of Vines,
Improvement of his Land, and such designs:
He minds his Trees, and takes a World of Pain,
Grows Grey upon his Cares, and thoughts of Gain;
But when his Sheep were lost he knew not how,
His Goats Diseas'd, his Corn refus'd to grow,
And labouring Oxen dy'd beneath the Plough:
Vex't at the various loss, away He goes,
At midnight in a rage to Philip's House;
When Philip saw him hastily appear,
Deform'd and rough his Face, untrim'd his Hair;
Mena, says he, You spend Your self with Care.
Good Patron, He cry'd out in wild affright,
Pray call me Wretch, if you would call me right;
By Thee, by all that's good, and all that's dear,
By all you Love, My Lord, and all you fear,
I beg your pitty; ease my vexing Pain,
And turn me to my former Life again:
He that hath once perceiv'd the treacherous Bait,
And how his first excells his present State,
Let Him return unto his former Care,
And follow what He left; 'tis just and fair,
By our own foot to measure what we are.