To the Kings most Excellent MAIESTIE. A SATYRE.

WHat once the Poet said, I may auow,
'Tis a hard thing not to write Satyrs, now,
Since, what we speake (abuse raigns so in all)
Spight of our hearts, will be Satyricall.
Let it not therefore now be deemed strange,
My vnsmooth'd lines their rudenesse do not change;
Nor be distastefull to my gracious King,
That in the Cage, my old harsh notes I sing:
And rudely, make a Satyre here vnfold,
What others would in neater tearmes haue told.
And why? my friends and meanes in Court are scant,
Knowledge of curious phrase, and forme I want.
I cannot bear't to runne my selfe in debt,
To hire the Groome, to bid the Page entreat,
Some fauourd Follower to vouchsafe his word
To get me a cold comfort from his Lord.
I cannot sooth, (though it my life might saue,)
Each Fauourite, nor crouch to eu'ry Knaue.
I cannot brooke delayes as some men do,
With scoffes, and scornes, and tak't in kindnesse to.
For ere I'de binde my selfe for some slight grace,
To one that hath no more worth then his place.
Or, by a base meane free my selfe from trouble,
I rather would endure my penance double:
Cause to be forc'd to what my mind disdaines,
Is worse to me then tortures, rackes, and chaines.
And therefore vnto thee I onely flye,
To whom there needs no meane but Honesty.
To thee, that lou'st nor Parasite or Minion,
Should ere I speake possesse thee with opinion.
To thee, that do'st what thou wilt vndertake,
For loue of Iustice, not the persons sake.
To thee, that know'st how vaine all faire shewes be,
That flow not from the hearts sinceritie;
And canst, though shadowed in the simplest vaile,
Discerne both Loue and Truth, and where they faile.
To thee doe I appeale; in whom Heau'n knowes,
I next to God my confidence repose.
For, can it be thy Grace should euer shine,
And not enlighten such a Cause as mine?
Can my hopes (fixt in thee great King) be dead;
Or thou those Satyrs hate thy Forrests bred?
Where shall my second hopes be founded then,
If euer I haue heart to hope agen?
Can I suppose a fauour may be got
In any place, when thy Court yeelds it not?
Or that I may obtaine it in the land,
When I shall be deni'd it at thy hand?
And if I might, could I delighted be,
To tak't of others, when I mist of thee?
Or if I were, could I haue comfort by it,
When I should thinke my Soueraigne did deny it?
No; were I sure, I to thy hate were borne,
To seeke for others fauours, I would scorne.
For, if the beft-worth-loues I could not gaine,
To labour for the rest I would disdaine.

But why should I thy fauour here distrust,
That haue a cause so knowne, and knowne so iust?
Which not alone my inward comfort doubles,
But all suppose me wrong'd that heare my troubles.
Nay, though my fault were Reall, I beleeue
Thou art so Royall, that thou wouldst forgiue.

For, well I know, thy sacred Maiesty
Hath euer beene admir'd for Clemency,
And at thy gentlenesse the world hath wondred,
For making Sun-shine, where thou mightst haue thundred.
Yea, thou in mercy, life to them didst giue
That could not be content to see thee liue.
And can I thinke that thou wilt make me, then,
The most vnhappy of all other men?
Or let thy loyall Subiect, against reason,
Be punisht more for Loue, then some for Treason?
No, thou didst neuer yet thy glory staine
With an iniustice to the meanest Swaine.
'Tis not thy will I'me wrong'd, nor dost thou know,
If I haue suffred iniuries or no.
For if I haue not heard falfe Rumours flie,
Th'ast grac'st me with the stile of Honesty,
And if it were so (as some thinke it was)
I cannot see how it should come to passe
That thou, from whose free tongue proceedeth nought
Which is not correspondent with thy thought.
Those thoughts to, being fram'd in Reasons mould,
Should speake that once, which should not euer hold.

But passing it as an vncertainety,
I humbly beggethee, by that Maiesty,
Whose sacred Glory strikes a louing-feare
Into the hearts of all, to whom 'tis deare:
To deigne me so much fauour, without merit,
As read this plaint of a distempered spirit:
And thinke, vnlesse I saw some hideous storme,
Too great to be endur'd by such a worme,
I had not thus presum'd vnto a King,
With Aesops Fly, to seeke an Eagles wing:

Know I am he, that entred once the list,
Gainst all the world to play the Satyrist:
T was I, that made my measures rough and rude,
Dance arm'd with whips amidst the multitude,
And vnappalled with my charmed Scrowles,
Teaz'd angry Monsters in their lurking holes.
I'ue plaid with Waspes and Hornets without feares,
Till mad they grew, and swarm'd about my eares.
I'ue done it, and me thinkes tis such braue sport,
I may be stung, but nere be sorry for't.
For, all my griefe is, that I was so sparing,
And had no more in't, worth the name of daring.
He that will taxe these times must be more bitter,
Tart lines of Vinegar and Gall are fitter.
My fingers and my spirits were benum'd,
My inck ran forth too smooth, twas two much gum'd;
I'de haue my Pen so paint it, where it traces,
Each accent, should draw blood into their faces.
And make them, when their Villanies are blazed,
Shudder and startle, as men halfe amazed,
For feare my Verse should make so loud a din,
Heauen hearing might raine vengeance on their sin.
Oh now, for such a straine! would Art could teach it.
Though halfe my spirits I consum'd to reach it.
I de learne my Muse so braue a course to flie,
Men should admire the power of Poosie.
And those that dar'd her greatnesse to resist,
Quake euen at naming of a Satyrist.
But when his scourging numbers flow'd with wonder,
Should cry, God blesse vs, as they did at thunder.

Alas! my lines came from me too-too dully,
They did not fill a Satyrs mouth vp fully.
Hot blood, and youth, enrag'd with passions store,
Taught me to reach a straine nere touch'd before.
But it was coldly done, I throughly … not:
And somewhat there is yet to doe, I did not.
More soundly could my scourge haue yerked many,
Which I omitted not for feare of any.
For want of action, discontentments rage,
Base dis-respect of Vertue (in this age)
With other things which were to Goodnesse wrong,
Made me so fearelesse in my carelesse Song:
That, had not reason within compasse won me,
I had told Truth enough to haue vndone me.
(Nay, haue already, if that her Diuine
And vnseene power, can doe no more then mine.)
For though fore-seeing warinesse was good,
I fram'd my stile vnto a milder mood;
And clogging her high-towring wings with mire,
Made her halfe earth, that was before all fire.
Though (as you saw) in a disguised shew
I brought my Satyres to the open view:
Hoping (their out-sides, being mis-esteem'd)
They might haue passed, but for what they seem'd:
Yet some whose Comments iumpe not with my minde,
In that low phrase, a higher reach would finde,
And out of their deepe iudgements seeme to know,
What 'tis vncertaine if I meant or no:
Ayming thereby, out of some priuate hate,
To worke my shame, or ouer-throw my state.
For, amongst many wrongs my foe doth doe me,
And diuers imputations laide vnto me,
(Deceiued in his ayme) he doth mis-conster
That which I haue enstil'd a Man-like Monster,
To meane some priuate person in the State,
Whose worth I sought to wrong out of my hate;
Vpbraiding me, I from my word doe start,
Either for want of better Ground, or Heart.
Cause from his expectation I did vary
In the denying of his Commentary,
Whereas tis knowne I meant Abuse the while,
Not thinking any one could be so vile
To merit all those Epithites of shame,
How euer many doe deserue much blame.

But say, (I grant) that I had an intent
To haue it so (as he interprets) meant,
And let my gracious Liege suppose there were
One whom the State may haue iust cause to feare;
Or thinke there were a man (and great in Court)
That had more faults then I could well report;
Suppose I knew him, and had gone about
By some particular markes to paint him out,
That he best knowing his owne faults, might see,
He was the Man I would should noted be:
Imagine now such doings in this Age,
And that this man so pointed at, should rage,
Call me in question, and by his much threatning,
By long imprisonment, and ill-intreating
Vrge a Confession, wert not a mad part
For me to tell him, what lay in my heart?
Doe not I know a great mans Power and Might;
In spight of Innocence, can smother Right,
Colour his Villanies, to get esteeme,
And make the honest man the Villaine seeme?
And that the truth I told should in conclusion,
For want of Power and Friends be my confusion?
I know it, and the world doth know tis true,
Yet, I protest, if such a man I knew,
That might my Country preiudice, or Thee,
Were he the greatest or the proudest Hee
That breathes this day: (if so it might be found,
That any good to either might redound.)
So far Ile be (though Fate against me run)
From starting off from that I haue begun,
I vn-appalled dare in such a case
Rip vp his foulest Crimes before his face,
Though for my labour I were sure to drop
Into the mouth of Ruine without hope.

But such strange farre-fetcht meanings they haue sought,
As I was neuer priuie to in thought;
And that vnto particulars would tie
Which I intended vniuersally.
Whereat some with displeasure ouer-gone,
(Those I scarce dream'd of, saw, or thought vpon)
Maugre those caueats on my Satyrs brow,
Their honest and iust passage disallow.
And on their heads so many censures rake,
That spight of me, themselues they'le guilty make.

Nor is't enough, to swage their discontent,
To say I am (or to be) innocent.
For as, when once the Lyon made decree,
No horned beast should nigh his presence be,
That, on whose fore-head onely did appeare
A bunch of flesh, or but some tuft of haire,
Was euen as farre in danger as the rest,
If he but said, it was a horned beast:
So, there be now, who thinke in that their power
Is of much force, or greater farre then our;
It is enough to proue a guilt in me,
Because (mistaking) they so think't to be.

Yet 'tis my comfort, they are not so high,
But they must stoope to Thee and Equitie.
And this I know, though prickt; they storme agen,
The world doth deeme them ne're the better men.
To stirre in filth, makes not the stench the lesse,
Nor doth Truth feare the frowne of Mightinesse.
Because those numbers she doth daigne to grace,
Men may suppresse a while, but ne're deface.

I wonder, and 'tis wondred at by many,
My harmelesse lines should breed distaste in any:
And so, that (whereas most good men approue
My labour to be worthy thankes, and loue)
I as a Villaine, and my Countries foe,
Should be imprison'd, and so strictly to,
That not alone my liberty is barr'd.
But the resort of friends (which is more hard.)
And whilst each wanton, or loose Rimers Pen,
With oyly words, sleekes o're the sinnes of men,
Vayling his wits to euery Puppets becke,
Which ere I'le doe, I'le ioy to breake my necke.
(I say) while such as they in euery place
Can finde protection, patronage and grace;
If any looke on me, 'tis but a skaunce
Or if I get a fauour, 'tis by chance.
I must protect my selfe: poore Truth and I
Can haue scarce one speake for our honesty.
Then whereas they can gold and gifts attaine,
Malitious Hate, and Enuy is my gaine,
And not alone haue here my Freedome lost,
Whereby my best hope's likely to be crost:
But haue beene put to more charge in one day.
Then all my Patrons bounties yet will pay.
What I haue done, was not for thirst of gaine,
Or out of hope preferments to attaine.
Since to contemne them, would more profit me,
Then all the glories in the world that be:
Yet they are helpes to Vertue, vs'd aright,
And when they wanting be, she wants her might.
For Eagles mindes ne're fit a Rauens feather,
To dare, and to be able, sute together.

But what is't I haue done so worthy blame,
That some so eagerly pursue my fame?
Vouchsafe to view't with thine owne eyes, and trie
(Saue want of Art) what fault thou canst espie.
I haue not sought to scandalize the State,
Nor sowne sedition, nor made publike bate:
I haue not aym'd at any good mans fame,
Nor taxt (directly) any one by name.
I am not he that am growne discontent
With the Religion; or the Gouernement.
I meant no Ceremonies to protect,
Nor doe I fauour any new-sprung Sect;
But to my Satyres gaue this onely warrant,
To apprehend and punish Vice apparant.
Who aiming in particular at none,
In generall vpbraided euery one:
That each (vnshamed of himselfe) might view
That in himselfe, which no man dares to shew.

And hath this Age bred vp neat Vice so tenderly,
She cannot brooke it to be touch'd so slenderly?
Will she not bide my gentle Satyres bites?
Harme take her then, what makes she in their sights?
If with impatience she my Whip-cord feele,
How had she raged at my lash of Steele?
But am I call'd in question for her cause?
Is't Vice that these afflictions on me drawes?
And need I now thus to Apologize,
Onely because I scourged Villanies?
Must I be faine to giue a reason why,
And how I dare allow of Honesty?
Whilst that each fleering Parasite is bold
Thy Royall brow vndaunted to hehold:
And euery Temporizer strikes a string,
That's Musicke for the hearing of a King?
Shall not he reach out to obtaine as much,
Who dares more for thee then a hundred such?
Heauen grant her patience, my Muse takes't so badly,
I feare shee'le lose her wits, for she raues madly.
Yet let not my dread Soueraigne too much blame her,
Whose awfull presence, now hath made her tamer.
For if there be no Fly but hath her spleene,
Nor a poore Pismire, but will wreake her teene;
How shall I then, that haue both spleene and gall,
Being vniustly dealt with, beare with all?
I yet with patience take what I haue borne,
And all the worlds ensuing hate can scorne:
But 't were in me as much stupiditie,
Not to haue feeling of an iniurie,
As it were weakenesse not to brooke it well:
What others therefore thinke I cannot tell;
But he that's lesse then mad, is more then Man,
Who sees when he hath done the best he can,
To keepe within the bounds of Innocence:
Sought to discharge his due to God and Prince.
That he, whilst Villanies vnreproued goe,
Scoffing, to see him ouer-taken so,
Should haue his good endeauours misconceiu'd,
Be of his dearest liberty bereau'd;
And which is worse, without reason why,
Be frown'd on by Authorities grim eye.
By that great Power my soule so much doth feare,
She scornes the stearn'st frownes of a mortall Peere,
But that I Vertue loue, for her owne sake,
It were enough to make me vndertake
To speake as much in praise of Vice agen.
And practise some to plague these shames of men.
I meane those my Accusers, who mistaking
My aymes, doe frame conceits of their owne making.
But if I list, I need not buy so deere
The iust reuenge might be inflicted here.
Now could I measures frame in this iust fury,
Should sooner finde some guilty then a Iury:
The words, like swords (temper'd with Art) should pierce
And hang, and draw, and quarter them in verse.
Or I could racke them on the wings of Fame,
(And he's halfe hang'd (they say) hath an ill name)
Yea, l'de goe neere to make those guilty Elues,
Lycambes-like, be glad to hang themselues:
And though this Age will not abide to heare
The faults reprou'd, that Custome hath made deare;
Yet, if I pleased, I could write their crimes,
And pile them vp in wals for after-times:
For they'le be glad (perhaps) that shall ensue,
To see some story of their Fathers true.
Or should I smother'd be in darknesse still,
I might not vse the freedome of a quill:
'T would raise vp brauer spirits then mine owne,
To make my cause, and this their guilt more knowne.
Who by that subiect should get Loue and Fame,
Vnto my foes disgrace, and endlesse shame:
Those I doe meane, whose Comments haue mis-us'd me:
And to those Peeres I honour, haue accus'd me:
Making against my Innocence their batteries,
And wronging them by their base flatteries:
But of reuenge I am not yet so faine,
To put my selfe vnto that needlesse paine:
Because I know a greater Power there is,
That noteth smaller iniuries then this;
And being still as iust as it is strong,
Apportions due reuenge for euery wrong.

But why (some say) should his too fancy Rimes
Thus taxe the wise and great ones of our times?
It suites not with his yeeres to be so bold,
Nor fits it vs by him to be controld.
I must confesse ('tis very true indeed)
Such should not of my censure stand in need.
But blame me not, I saw good Vertue poore,
Desert, among the most, thrust out of doore,
Honestie hated, Curtesie banished,
Rich men excessiue, poore men famished:
Coldnesse in Zeale, in Lawes partialitie,
Friendship but Complement, and vaine Formalitie,
Art I perceiue contem'd, while most aduance
(To offices of worth) Rich Ignorance:
And those that should our Lights and Teachers be
Liue (if not worse) as wantonly as we.
Yea, I saw Nature from her course runne backe,
Disorders grow, Good Orders goe to wracke.
So to encrease what all the rest beganne,
I to this current of confusion ranne.
And seeing Age, left off the place of guiding,
Thus plaid the fancy wagge, and fell to chiding.

Wherein, how euer some (perhaps) may deeme,
I am not so much faulty as I seeme:
For when the Elders wrong'd Susanna's honer,
And none withstood the Shame they laid vpon her;
A Childe rose vp to stand in her defence,
And spight of wrong confirm'd her Innocence:
To shew, those must not, that good vndertake,
Straine curt'sie, who shall do'…, for manners sake.
Nor doe I know, whether to me God gaue
A boldnesse more then many others haue,
That I might shew the world what shamefull blot
Vertue by her lasciurous Elders got.
Nor is't a wonder, as some doe suppose,
My Youth so much corruption can disclose;
Since euery day the Sunne doth light mine eyes,
I am informed of new villanies:
But it is rather to be wondred how
I either can, or dare be honest now.

And though againe there be some others rage
That I should dare (so much aboue mine age)
Thus censure each degree, both young and old,
I see not wherein I am ouer-bold.
For if I haue beene plaine with Vice, I care not,
There's nought that I know good, and can, and dare not.
Onely this one thing doth my minde deterre,
Euen a feare (through ignorance) to erre.

But oh knew I, what thou would'st well approue,
Or might the small'st respect within thee moue;
So in the sight of God it might be good,
And with the quiet of my conscience stood:
(As well I know thy true integrity
Would command nothing against Piety:)
There's nought so dangerous, or full of feare,
That for my Soueraignes sake I would not dare.
Which good beliefe, would it did not possesse thee;
Prouided some iust triall might reblesse me:
Yea, though a while I did endure the gall
Of thy displeasure in this loathsome thrall.
For notwithstanding in this place I lye
By the command of that Authoritie,
Of which I haue so much respectiue care.
That in mine owne (and iust) defence I feare
To vse the free speech that I doe intend,
Lest Ignorance, or Rashnesse should offend.
Yet is my meaning and my thought as free
From wilfull wronging of thy Lawes or Thee,
As he …o whom thy Place and Persons dearest,
Or to himselfe that finds his conscience cle aest.
If there be wrong, 'tis not my making it,
All the offence is some's mistaking it.
And is there any Iustice borne of late,
Makes those faults mine, which others perpetrate?
What man could euer any Age yet finde,
That spent his spirits in this thankelesse kinde,
Shewing his meaning, to such words could tye it,
That none could either wrong, or mis-apply it.

Nay, your owne Lawes, which (as you doe intend)
In plain'st and most effectuall words are penn'd,
Cannot be fram'd so well to your intent,
But some there be will erre from what you meant.
And yet (alas) I must be ty'de vnto
What neuer any man before could doe?
Must all I speake, or write, so well be done
That none may pick more meanings thence then one?
Then all the world (I hope) will leaue dis-vnion,
And euery man become of one opinion.
But since some may, what care soe're we take,
Diuers constructions of our Writings make,
The honest Readers euer will conceaue
The best intention's, and all others leaue:
Chiefly in that, where I fore-hand protest
My meaning euer was the honestest,
And if I say so, what is he may know
So much as to affirme it was not so?
Sit other men so neare my thoughts to show it,
Or is my heart so open that all know it?
Sure if it were, they would no such things see,
As those whereof some haue accused mee.
But I care lesse how it be vnderstood,
Because the heauens know my intent was good.
And if it be so, that my too-free Rimes
Doe much displease the world, and these bad times;
'Tis not my fault, for had I been imploy'd
In something else, all this had now been voyd.
Or if the world would but haue granted me
Wealth, or Affaires, whereon to busie me,
I now vnheard of, peraduenture than,
Had been as mute as some rich Clergie-man.

But they are much deceiu'd that thinke my minde
Will ere be still, while it can doing find;
Or that vnto the world so much it leanes,
As to be curtold for default of meanes.
No, though most be, all Spirits are not earth,
Nor suting with the fortunes of their birth,
My body's subiect vnto many Powers:
But my soule's as free, as is the Emperours:
And though to curbe her in, I oft assay,
She'le breake int' action spite of durt and clay.
And is't not better then to take this course,
Then fall to study mischiefes and doe worse?
I say she must haue action, and she shall:
For if she will, how can I doe withall?
And let those that o're-busie thinke me, know,
He made me, that knew, why he made me so.
And though there's some that say my thoughts doe flie
A pitch beyond my states sufficiency;
My humble minde, I giue my Sauiour thanke
Aspires nought yet, aboue my fortunes ranke.
But say it did, wil't not befit a man
To raise his thoughts as neere Heau'n as he can?
Must the free spirit ty'd and curbed be
According to the bodies pouerty?
Or can it euer be so subiect to
Base Change, to rise, and fall, as fortunes doe?

Men borne to noble meanes, and vulgar mindes
Enioy their wealth; and there's no Law that bindes
Such to abate their substance, though their Pates
Want Braines, and they worth, to possesse such states.
So God to some, doth onely great mindes giue,
And little other meanes, whereon to liue.
What law or conscience then shall make them smother
Their Spirit, which is their life, more then other
To bate their substance? since if 'twere confest,
That a braue minde could euer be supprest,
Were't reason any should himselfe depriue
Of what the whole world hath not power to giue?
For wealth is comon, and fooles get it to,
When to giue spirit's more then Kings can do.

I speake not this, because I thinke there be
More then the ordinarest gifts in me;
But against those, who thinke I doe presume
On more then doth befit me to assume:
Or would haue all, whom Fortune barres from store,
Make themselues wretched, as she makes them poore.
And' cause in other things she is vnkind,
Smother the matchlesse blessings of their minde:
Whereas (although her fauours doe forsake them)
Their minds are richer then the world can make them.
Why should a good attempt disgraced seeme,
Because the person is of meane esteeme?
Vertue's a chaste Queene, and yet doth not scorne
To be embrac'd by him that's meanest borne,
Shee is the prop, that Maiesties support,
Yet one whom Slaues as well as Kings may court.
She loueth all that beare affection to her,
And yeelds to any that hath heart to wooe her.
So Vice, how high so e're she be in place,
Is that which Groomes may spit at in disgrace:
She is a strumpet, and may be abhorr'd,
Yea, spurn'd at in the bosome of a Lord.
Yet had I spoke her faire, I had beene free,
As many others of her Louers be.
If her escapes I had not chanc'd to tell,
I might haue beene a villaine, and done well:
Gotten some speciall fauour, and not sate
As now I doe, shut vp within a grate.
Or if I could haue hap't on some loose straine,
That might haue pleas'd the wanton Readers vaine:
Or but claw'd Pride, I now had been vnblam'd,
(Or else at least there's some would not haue sham'd
To plead my cause:) but see my fatall curse,
Sure I was either mad, or somewhat worse:
For I saw Vices followers brauely kept,
In Silkes they walkt, on beds of Downe they slept,
Richly they fed on dainties euermore,
They had their pleasure, they had all things store,
(Whil'st Vertue begg'd) yea, fauours had so many,
I knew they brook't not to be touch'd of any:
Yet could not I, like other men, be wise,
Nor learne (for all this) how to temporize;
But must (with too much honesty made blind)
Vpbraid this loued darling of mankind:
Whereas I might haue better thriu'd by fayning:
Or if I could not chuse, but be complaining,
More safe I might haue rail'd on Vertue sure,
Because her louers and her friends are fewer.
I might haue brought some other things to passe,
Made Fidlers Songs, or Ballads, like an Asse,
Or any thing almost indeed but this.
Yet since 'tis thus, l'me glad 'tis so amisse;
Because if I am guilty of a crime,
'Tis that, wherein the best of euery time,
Hath beene found faulty (if they faulty be)
That doe reproue Abuse and villany.

For what I'me taxt, I can examples show,
In such old Authors as this State allow:
And I would faine once learne a reason why
They can haue kinder vsage here then I?
I muse men doe not now in question call
Seneca, Horace, Persius, Inuenall,
And such as they? Or why did not that Age
In which they liued, put them in a Cage?
If I should say, that men were iuster then,
I should neere hand be made vnsay't agen:
And therefore sure I thinke I were as good
Leaue it to others to be vnderstood.
Yet I as well may speake, as deeme amisse,
For such this Ages curious cunning is,
I scarcely dare to let mine heart thinke ought,
For there be some will seeme to know my thought,
Who may out-face me that I thinke awry,
When there's no witnesse, but my Conscience by:
And then I likely am as ill to speed,
As if I spake, or did amisse indeed.

Yet lest those who (perhaps) may malice this,
Interpret also these few lines amisse,
Let them that after thee, shall reade or heare,
From a rash censure of my thoughts forbeare.
Let them not mold the sense that this containes
According to the forming of their braines,
Or thinke I dare, or can, here taxe those Peeres,
Whose Worths, their Honours, to my soule endeares,
(Those by whose loued-fear'd Authority)
I am restrained of my liberty:
For lest there yet may be a man so ill,
To haunt my lines with his blacke Coment still,
(In hope my lucke againe may be so good,
To haue my words once rightly vnderstood)
This I protest, that I doe not condemne
Ought as vniust, that hath been done by them;
For though my honest heart not guilty be
Of the least thought, that may disparage me;
Yet when such men as I, shall haue such foes,
Accuse me of such crimes, to such as those,
Till I had meanes my Innocence to show,
Their Iustice could haue done no lesse then so.

Nor haue I such a proud conceited wit,
Or selfe-opinion of my knowledge yet,
To thinke it may not be that I haue run
Vpon some Errors in what I haue done,
Worthy this punishment which I endure;
(I say I cannot so my selfe assure)
For 'tis no wonder if their Wisedomes can
Discouer Imperfections in a man
So weake as I, (more then himselfe doth see)
Since my sight dull with insufficiencie,
In men more graue, and wiser farre then I,
Innumerable Errors doth espye,
Which they with all their knowledge I'le be bold,
Cannot (or will not) in themselues behold.
But ere I will my selfe accuse my Song,
Or keepe a Tongue shall doe my Heart that wrong,
To say I willingly in what I penn'd,
Did ought that might a Goodmans sight offend;
Or with my knowledge did insert one word,
That might disparage a true Honour'd Lord;
Let it be in my mouth a helpelesse sore,
And neuer speake to be beleeued more.

Yet man irresolute is, vnconstant, weake,
And doth his purpose oft through frallty breake,
Lest therefore I by force hereafter may
Be brought from this minde, and these words vnsay,
Here to the World I doe proclaime before,
If e're my resolution be so poore,
T'is not the Right, but Might that makes me doe it;
Yea, nought but fearefull baseuesse brings me to it;
Which if I still hate, as I now detest,
Neuer can come to harbor in my brest.

Thus my fault then (if they a fault imply)
Is not alone an ill vnwillingly,
But also, might I know it, I entend,
Not onely to acknowledge, but amend:
Hoping that thou wilt not be so seuere,
To punish me aboue all other here.
But for m'intents sake, and my loue to Truth,
Impute my Errors to the heate of Youth,
Or rather Ignorance; then to my Will,
Which sure I am was good, what e're be ill,
And like to him now, in whose place thou art,
What e're the residue be, accept the Heart.
But I grow tedious, and my loue abusd,
Disturbs my thoughts, and makes my lines confus'd,
Yet pardon me, and daigne a gracious eye
On this my rude, vnfil'd Apologie.
Let not the bluntnesse of my phrase offend,
Weight but the matter, and not how 'tis penn'd,
By these abrupt lines in my iust defence,
Iudge what I might say for my innocence.
And thinke, I more could speake, that here I spare,
Because my power suites not to what I dare.
My vnaffected stile retaines (you see)
Her old Frize-Cloake of young Rusticitiê:
If others will vse neater tearmes, they may,
Ruder I am, yet loue as well as they:
And (though if I would smooth't I cannot doo't)
My humbel heart I bend beneath thy foot:
While here my Muse her discontent doth sing
To thee her great Apollo, and my King:
Emploring thee by that high sacred Name,
By Iustice, by those Powers that I could name:
By whatsoe're may moue, entreate I thee,
To be what thou art vnto all, to mee;
I feare it not, yet giue me leaue to pray,
I may haue foes, whose power doth beare such sway;
If they but say I'me guilty of offence,
'Twere vaine for me to pleade my innocence.

But as the Name of God thou bear'st, I trust
Thou imitat'st him to, in being iust:
That when the right of Truth thou comm'st to scan,
Thoul't not respect the person of the man:
For if thou doe, then is my hope vndone;
The head-long-way to ruine I must runne.
For whil'st that they haue all the helpes which may
Procure their pleasure with my soone decay:
How is it like that I my peace can win me,
When all the ayde I haue, comes from within me?
Therefore (good King) that makst thy bounty shine
Sometime on those whose worths are small as mine;
Oh saue me now from Enuies dangerous shelfe,
Or make me able, and I'le saue my selfe.
Let not the want of that make me a scorne,
To which there are more Fooles then Wise-men borne.
Let me not for my Meannesse be dispis'd,
Nor others greatnesse make their words more priz'd,
For whatsoe're my outward Fate appeares,
My Soule's as good, my Heart as great as theirs.
My loue vnto my Country and to thee,
As much as his that more would seeme to be.
And would this Age allow but meanes to show it,
Those that misdoubt it, should ere long time know it.

Pitty my youth then, and let me not lie
Wasting my time in fruitlesse miserie.
Though I am meane, I may be borne vnto
That seruice, which another cannot doe.
In vaine the little Mouse the Lyon spar'd not,
She did him pleasure, when a greater dar'd not.
If ought that I haue done, doe thee displease,
Thy misconceiued wrath I will appease,
Or sacrifice my heart; but why should I
Suffer for God knowes whom, I know not why?
If that my words through some mistake offends,
Let them conceiue them right and make amends.
Or were I guilty of offence indeed,
One fault (they say) doth but one pardon need:
Yet one I had, and now I want one more;
For once I stood accus'd for this before.
As I remember I so long agon,
Sung Thame, and Rhynes Epithalamion:
When SHE that from thy Royall selfe deriues
Those gracious vertues that best Title giues:
She that makes Rhine proud of her excellence,
And me oft minde her reuerence;
Daign'd in her great good-nature to encline
Her gentle care to such a cause as mine;
And which is more, vouchsaf'd her word, to cleare
Me from all dangers (if there any were,)
So that I doe not now intreate, or sue
For any great boone, or request that's new:
But onely this (though absent from the Land)
Her former fauour still in force might stand:
And that her word (who present was so deere)
Might be as powerfull, as when she was here.
Which if I finde, and with thy fauour may
Haue leaue to shake my loathed bands away,
(As I doe hope I shall) and be set free
From all the troubles, this hath brought on me,
Ple make her Name giue life vnto a Song,
Whose neuer-dying note shall last as long
As there is either Riuer, Groue or Spring,
Or Downe for Sheepe, or Shepheards Lad to sing.
Yea, I will teach my Muse to touch a straine,
That was ne're reach't to yet by any Swaine.
For though that many deeme my yeeres vnripe,
Yet I haue learn'd to tune an Oaten Pipe,
Whereon I'le try what musicke I can make me,
(Vntill Bellona with her Trumpe awake me.)
And since the world will not haue Vice thus showne,
By blazing Vertue I will make it knowne.
Then if the Court will not my lines approue
I'le goe vnto some Mountaine, or thicke Groue:
There to my fellow Shepheards will I sing,
Tuning my Reede vnto some dancing Spring,
In such a note, that none should dare to trouble it,
Till the Hils answere, and the Woods redouble it.
And peraduenture I may then goe neare
To speake of something thoul't be pleas'd to heare:
And that which those who now my tunes abhorre,
Shall reade, and like, and daigne to loue me for:
But the meane while, oh passe not this suite by,
Let thy free hand signe me my liberty:
And if my loue may moue thee more to do,
Good King consider this my trouble to.
Others haue found thy fauour in distresse,
Whose loue to thee and thine I thinke was lesse.
And I might fitter for thy seruice liue
On what would not be much for thee to giue.

And yet I aske it not for that I feare
The outward meanes of life should faile me here:
For though I want to compasse those good ends
Iaime at for my Countrie and my Friends,
In this poore state I can as well content me,
As if that I had Wealth and Honours lent me,
Nor for my owne sake doe I seeke to shunne
This thraldome, wherein now I seeme vndone:
For though I prize my Freedome more then Gold,
And vse the meanes to free my selfe from hold,
Yet with a minde (I hope) vnchang'd and free,
Here can I liue, and play with miserie:
Yea, in despight of want and slauerie,
Laugh at the world in all her brauerie.
Here haue I learn'd to make my greatest Wrongs
Matter of Mirth, and subiects but for Songs:
Here can I smile to see my selfe neglected,
And how the meane mans suite is dis-respected;
Whil'st those that are more rich, and better friended,
Can haue twice greater faults thrice sooner ended.

All this, yea more, I see and suffer to,
Yet liue content midst discontents I do.
Which whil'st I can, it is all one to me,
Whether in Prison or abroad it be.
For should I still lye here distrest and poore,
It shall not make me breathe a sigh the more;
Since to my selfe it is indifferent,
Where the small remnant of my daies be spent,
But for Thy sake, my Countries, and my Friends,
For whom, more then my selfe, God this life lends,
I would not, could I helpe it, be a scorne,
But (if I might) liue free, as I was borne:
Or rather for my Mistris vertues sake,
Faire Vertue, of whom most account I make,
If I can chuse, I will not be debas'd
In this last action, lest She be disgrac'd:
For 'twas the loue of her that brought me to,
What Spleene nor Enuie could not make me do.
And if her seruants be no more regarded;
If enemies of Vice be thus rewarded,
And I should also Vertues wrongs conceale,
And if none liu'd to whom she dar'd appeale:
Will they that doe not yet her worth approue,
Be euer drawne to entertaine her loue,
When they shall see him plagu'd as an Offender,
Who for the loue he beares her, doth commend her?

This may to others more offensiue be,
Then preiudiciall any way to me:
For who will his endeauours euer bend
To follow her, whom there is none will friend?
Some I doe hope there be that nothing may
From loue of Truth and Honesty dismay.
But who will (that shall see my euill Fortune)
The remedy of Times Abuse importune?
Who will againe, when they haue smother'd me,
Dare to oppose the face of Villany?
Whereas he must be faine to vndertake
A Combat with a second Lernean Snake;
Whose euer-growing heads when as he crops,
Not onely two springs, for each one he lops,
But also he shall see in midst of dangers,
Those he thought friends turne foes, at least-wise stranger:

More I could speake, but sure if this doe faile me,
I neuer shall doe ought that will auaile me;
Nor care to speake againe, vnlesse it be
To him that knowes how heart and tongue agree;
No, nor to liue, when none dares vndertake
To speake one word for honest Vertues sake.
But let his will be done, that best knowes what
Will be my future good, and what will not.
Hap well or ill, my spotlesse meaning's faire,
And for thee, this shall euer be my prayer,
That thou maist here enioy a long-blest Raigne,
And dying, be in Heauen re-crown'd againe.

SO now, if thou hast daign'd my Lines to heare,
There's nothing can befall me that I feare:
For if thou hast compassion on my trouble,
The Ioy I shall receiue will be made double;
And if I fall, it may some Glory be,
That none but IOVE himselfe did ruine me.