Satyre 1. Cur eget indignus quisquam, te diuite. (Book 1)
TIme was, when down declining toothlesse age,
Was of a holy and diuine presage:
Diuining prudent and foretelling truth,
In sacred points, instructing wandring youth.
But oh detraction of our latter daies,
How much from veritie this age estraies?
description
Page [unnumbered]
Raunging the bryerie desarts of blacke sin,
Seeking a dismall caue to reuell in.
This latter age or member of that time,
Of whom my snarling muse now thūdreth rime
Wandred the brackes vntill a hidden Cell,
He found at length, and still therin doth dwell:
The house of gaine insatiat it is,
Which this hore aged pesant deemes his blis:
Oh that desire might hunt amongst that fur,
It should go hard but he would loose a cur:
To rowse the fox, hid in a bramble bush,
Who frighteth conscience with a wrimouth'd push:
But what need I to wish or would it thus,
When I may find him starting at the burs:
Where he infecteth other pregnant wits,
Making them Coheires to his damned fits.
There may you see this writhen faced masse,
Of rotten mouldring clay, that prating asse:
That riddles wonders meere compact of lies,
Of heauen, of hell, of earth and of the skies:
description
Page [unnumbered]
Of heauen thus he reasons: heauen theres none,
Vnles it be within his mantion.
Oh there is heauen: why? because theres gold,
That from the late to this last age controld,
The massie scepter of Earthes hauenly round,
Exiling forth her siluer paued bound,
The Leaders, brethren, brazen counterfets,
That in this golden age contempt begets:
Vaunt then I mortall I, I onely King,
And golden God of this eternall being.
Of Hell Cymerian thus Auarus reasons:
Though hell be hot, yet it obserueth seasons:
Hauing within his Kingdome residence,
Ore which his godhead hath preheminence:
An obscure angell of his Heauen it is,
Wherein's containd that Hell deuouring blis:
Into this Hell sometimes an Angell fals,
Whose white aspect black forlorn soules appals
And that is when a Saint beleeuing gold,
Old in that heauen, yong in being old.
description
Page [unnumbered]
Falls headlong downe into that pit of woe,
Fit for such damned creatures ouerthrow.
To make this publike that obscured lies,
And more apparant vulgar secrecies:
To make this plaine, harsh vnto common wits,
Simplicitie in common iudgement sits.
This down-cast angell, or declining saint,
Is greedy Croone, when Cron makes his compt:
For his poore creditors falne to decay,
Being bankerouts, take heeles and run away.
Then franticke Cron, gald to the very hart,
In some by corner playes a diuels part:
Repining at the losse of so much pelfe,
And in a humor goes and hangs himselfe.
So of a saint, a diuell Cron is made,
The diuel lou'd Cron, and Cron the diuels trade.
Thus may you see such angels often fall,
Making a working day a festiuall.
Now to the third point of his deitie,
And that's th'earth, thus reasons credulitie:
description
Page [unnumbered]
Credulous Cron, Cron credulous in all,
Sweares that his kingdome is in generall.
As he is Regent of this Heauen and Hell,
So of the Earth, all others hee'le expell:
The Skies at his dispose, the Earth his owne,
And if Cron please, all must be ouerthrowne.
Cron, Crō, aduise thee Crō with the copper nose,
And be not rulde so much by false suppose:
Least Crons professing holinesse turne euil,
And of a false god, proue a perfect diuil.
I prithee Cron find out some other talke,
Make not the Burse a place for spirits to walke:
For doubtlesse if thy damned lies take place,
Destruction followes, farwell sacred grace.
Th'Exchāge for goodly Merchāts is appointed
Why not for me sayes Cron, & mine annointed?
Can Marchants thriue and not the Vse'r nie?
Can Marchants liue without my companie?
No Cron helps all, and Cron hath help frō none,
What others haue is Crons, & Crons his owne.
description
Page [unnumbered]
And Cron will hold his owne, or't shal go hard,
The diuel will helpe him for a small reward:
The diuels helpe, oh tis a mightie thing,
If he but say the word, Cron is a King.
Oh then the diuel is greater yet then hee,
I thought as much, the diuel would master bee.
And reason too (saith Cron) for what care I,
So I may liue as God, and neuer die.
Yea golden Cron, death will make thee away,
And each dog Cron, must haue a dying day.
And with this resolution I bequeath thee,
To God or to the diuel, and so I leaue thee.