Sir Gregory Nonsence his newes from no place Written on purpose, with much study to no end, plentifully stored with want of wit, learning, iudgement, rime and reason, and may seeme very fitly for the vnderstanding of nobody. Toyte, Puncton, Ghemorah, Molushque, Kaycapepson. This is the worke of the authors, without borrowing or stealing from others. By Iohn Taylor.

A most learned-Lye, and Illite∣rate Oration, in lame galloping Rime, fustianly pronounced by Nimshag, a Gimno∣sophicall Phoolosopher, in the presence of Achit∣tophell Smel-smocke, Annani-Asse Aretine, Iscariot Nabal, Fransiscus Ra-viliaco, Garnetto Iebusito, Guido Salpetro Fauexit Powderio, and many other graue Senators of Limbo. Translated out of the vulgar Lan∣guage, of Terra Incognita, and is as materiall as any part of the Booke, the meaning where∣of a blind man may see without Spectacles as well at midn••ght, as at noone day.

THe Story of Ricardo, and of Bindo, Appear'd like Nylus, peeping through a Windo: Which put the wandring Iew in much amazement, In seeing such a voyce without the Cazement. When loe a Bull (long nourish'd in Cocitus, With sulphure hornes, sent by the Emp'rour Titus, Ask'd a stigmatike Paraclesian question, If Alexander euer lou'd Ephestion. I seeing each to other were much aduerse, In mirth and sport set downe their minds in sad verse, Which as my braines with care haue coin'd & minted With plenteous want of iudgement here tis printed, But if Grimalkine take my line in dudgion, The case is plaine, I pray good Readers iudge ye on,

That Esop that old fabulisticke Phrigian, From the Nocturnall floud, or lake cal'd Stigian, Came to the Court at Creete, clad like a Legate, The Porter kindly to him open'd the-Gate, He past through Plutoes Hall in Hell most horrid, Where gnashing cold mixt with combustious torid, Where all things that are good, and goodnes wanted, Where plants of mans perdition still are planted, Where Ghosts and Goblins all in sulphure suted, And all the fiends like Cuckolds were cornuted. At last he audience got in Plutoes presence, And of his whole Embassage this was the-sence. To thee Tartarian Monarch now my Rime-is, And therefore marke my Prologue, or Imprimis, Thou that in Limbo art as 'twere Rex Regnant, Beare with my wit, which is not sharpe or pregnant, I come from Houndsditch, Long-lane, & frō Bridewel, Where all that haue liu'd ill, haue all not dide well, Where as the Vices shew like Vertues Cardinall, Where's mony store, and conscience very hard in all, Through thy protection they are monstrous Thriuers, Not like the Dutchmen in base Doytes and Stiuers, For there you may see many a greedy grout-head, Without or wit, or sence, almost without-head,

Held and esteem'd a man whose zeale is feruent, And makes a shew as he were not your seruant. To tell this newes I came from many a mile hence, For we do know ther's ods 'twixt talke and silence, With that the smug-fac'd Pluto shooke his vestment, Deepe ruminating what the weighty Iest ment, Calling to mind old Dodonaeus Hearball, With Taciturnity and Actions verball, Quoth he, I care for neither Friend or Kinsman, Nor do I value honesty two pinnes man: But 'tis a Maxime Mortals cannot hinder, The doughty deedes of Wakesields huffe cap Pinder, Are not so pleasant as the faire Aurora, When Nimrod rudely plaid on his Bandora. For 'tis not fit that any Turke or Persian, Should in a Cloke-bag hide a feauer Tertian, Because the Dog-starre in his cold Meridian, Might arme himselfe in fury most quotidian. With that most quicke a Pettifoggers tongue went, (Well oild with Aureum, Argent, or such Vnguent,) Is't fit (quoth he) here should be such incroachment, By such whose fathers nere knew what a Coach ment, Or shall their Scutchions fairely be endorsed, Who riding backward iadishly were horsed,

For though in India it be rare and frequent, Where to the wall most commonly the weake went, Yet neither can the Soldan or the Sophy, Shew any Presidents for such a Trophy. By Rules of Logicke, he's a kinde a Catiue, And makes no reckning of his Country natiue, That doth with feeble strength, loue with derision, And without bloudshed makes a deepe incision. Why should a man lay either life or lime ny, To be endangered by a falling Chimney. For though the prosecution may be quaintly, Yet may the execution end but faintly, Lets call to mind the famous acts of Hector, When aged Ganimede carousing Nectar, Did leaue the Greekes much matter to repine on. Vntill the Woodden Horse of trusty Sinon, Foald a whole litter of mad Colts in Harnesse, As furious as the host of Hollophernes. But to the purpose here's the long and and short ont, All that is said, hath not beene much important, Nor can it be that what is spoke is meant all, Of any thing that happens accidentall, We will examine wisely what the Foe sent, And whether he be innocent or nocent.

In weighty matters lets not be too serious, Ther's many an Eunuch hath bin thought venrious, And 'tis a thing which often hath bin heard on, That he that labours doth deserue his Guerdon, Let vs the first precadent time examine, Youle finde that hunger is the cause of famine, The Birds in Summer that haue sweetely chirped, Ere winter hath beene done haue beene extirped. He may weare Robes, that nere knew what a Rag ment, And he that feasts may fast without a fragment, The end proues all, I care not for the Interim, Time now that summers him, wil one day winter him. To outward view, and Senses all exterier, Amongst all fooles I neuer saw a verier, Then he that doth his liberty prohibit, To fall in danger of a fatall Iibbit. Nor for this purpose here to talke come I, How siluer may be mock't with Alcamie, I oft haue heard that many a Hawke hath muted, Whereby the Faulkners Clothes hath beene poluted. This may be auoyded if the Knight Sir Reuerence, Be wary with a negligent perseuerance: For men of Iudement neuer thinke it decent, To loue a stinking Pole-cat well for the sent.

But if a man should seriously consider, Where Charity is fled, or who hath hid her, He in the end would giue this worthy sentence, The earth hath beene accursed since she went hence. The Times are biting, and the dayes Caniculer, And mischiefe girds about the Globes orbiculer, How from the Country all the plaine Rusticity, Liues by deceit, exiling plaine simplicity. A face like Rubies mix'd with Allablaster, Wastes much in Physicke, and her water-caster, That whosoe're perceiues which way the stinke went, May sent and sensure shee's a great delinquent. Why should a Bawd be fur'd with Budge & Miniuer, As if she were a Lady, or Queene Guiniuer? When as perhaps ther's many a modest Matron, Hath scarcely meate, or money, clothes or patron, And wherefore should a man be growne so stupid, To be a slaue to Venus or to Cupid, Hee's but a foole that hoping for a vaine prize, Being captiu'd can haue no baile or maine prize. For he that hath no shift let him determine, He shall be bitten with Fleas, Lice, or Vermine. This being all his speeches Pia Mater, He cal'd a Sculler, and would goe by water:

When straite the Stigian Ferriman a rare one, Old amiable, currish curteous Caron, Row'd with a whirle-wind through the Acheron ticke And thence vnto the Azure Sea proponticke. There Neptune in a burning blue Pauillion, In state did entertaine this slow Postilion, There Proteus in a Robe of twisted Camphire, With a graue beard of monumentall Samphire, Quoth he, shall we whose Ancestors were warre-like, Whose rich Perfumes were only Leekes and Garlike, Whose noble deedes nocturnall and diurnall, Great Townes and Towers did topsie turuy turne all. Shall all their valour be in vs extinguish'd, Great Ioue forbid there should be such a thing wish'd, Though Cleoprtra was Octauia's riuall, It is a thing that we may well conniue all, Amongst the Antients it is vndisputable, That women and the winds were euer muteable, And 'tis aprou'd where people are littigious, There euery Epicure is not religious, Old Oceamus knowing what they ment all, Brought Zephirus vnto the Orientall, And he by Argument would proue that loue is, A thing that makes a wise man oft a Nouice:

For tis approu'd a Greyhound or a Beagle, Were not ordain'd or made, to hunt the Eagle, Nor can the nimblest Cat that came from Gottam▪ Search the profundity of Neptunes bottom. Let roaring Cannons with the Welkin parley, It's knowne good liquer may be made with Barley▪ And by experience many are assured, Some grounds are fruitfull if they be manured. For in the rudimens of health or sanity, An arrant Whore is but a price of vanity: Some men with fury will procrastinate, And some with leaden speede make hast in at▪ But in conclusion many things impurely, Dye in the Birth, and neuer end maturely, The man that seeketh straying minds to weane all▪ From veniall vices, or offences penall: Had he the forces of the Turkish Nauy, He would lye downe at last and cry pecauy. Of one thing I haue oftentimes tooke notice, The foole that's old, and rich, much apt to dote is, And by the light of Polux and of Castor, A Woolfe in Shepheards weedes is no good Pastor, Those that do liue a Commicke life by Magicke, Their Sceanes in their Catastraphes are tragicke.

And that ore the World would be chiefe Primate, May giue occasion for wise men to rime at, Before men fell to wrangling disagreement, A Lawyer vnderstood not what a fee meant: It was a time when Guilt did feare no censure, But loue, and peace, and charity was then sure. Now fathers (for their bread dig and delue it, The whilst the Satten Sonnes are lin'd with Veluet. Thus do I make a hotch potch messe of Nonsence, In darke Enigmaes, and strange sence vpon sence: It is not foolish all, nor is it wise all, Nor is it true in all, nor is it lies all. I haue not shew'd my wits accute or fluent, Nor told which way of late the wandring Iew went, For mine owne part I neuer cared greatly, (So I farewell) where those that dresse the meate lye. A miserable Knaue may be close fisted, And prodigall expence may be resisted, I neither care what Tom, or Iacke, or Dick sed, I am resolu'd, and my mind is fixed, The case is not as he, or I, or you sed, Truth must be found, and witnesses produced, My care is, that no captious Reader beare hence, My vnderstanding, wit, or reason here hence.

On purpose to no purpose I did write all, And so at Noone, I bid you here good night all.

THen with a tuchbox of transalpine tarre, Turning thrice round, and stirring not a iot, He threw fiue tunne of red hot purple Snow, Into a Pigmeis mouth, nine inches square, Which straite with mellancholly mou'd, Old Bombus Burgomaster of Pickthatch, That plunging through the Sea of Turneball streete▪ He safely did ariue at Smith field Barres. Then did the Turnetripes on the Coast of France. Catch fifteene hundred thousand Grashoppers, With foureteene Spanish Needles bumbasted, Poach'd with the Egges of fourescore Flanders Mares, Mounted vpon the foote of Caucasus, They whorld the footeball of conspiring fate, And brake the shinnes of smugfac'd Mulciber, With that grim Pluto all in Scarlet blue, Gaue faire Proserpina a kisse of brasse, At which all Hell danc'd Trenchmore in a string, Whilst Acheron, and Termagaunt did sing,

The Mold-warpe all this while in white broth bath'd, Did Carroll Didoes happinesse in loue, Vpon a Gridiron made of Whiting-mops, Vnto the tune of Iohn come kisse me now, At which Auernus Musicke gan to rore, Iuthron'd vpon a seate of three leau'd grasse, Whilst all the Hibernian Kernes in multitudes, Did feast with Shamerags stew'd in Vsquebagh. At which a banquet made of Monopolies, Tooke great disaste, because the Pillory Was hunger-staru'd for want of Villaines eares, Whom to relieue, there was a Mittimus, Sent from Tartaria in an Oyster Boate, At which the King of China was amaz'd, And with nine graines of Rewbarbe stellified, As low as to the altitude of shame, He thrust foure Onions in a Candle-case, And spoild the meaning of the worlds misdoubt, Thus with a Dialogue of crimson starch, I was inflamed with a num-cold fire, Vpon the tenterhookes of Chalemaine, The Dogstar howl'd, the Cat a Mountaine smil'd, And Sisiphus dranke Muskadell and Egges, In the horn'd hoofe of huge Bucephalus,

Time turn'd about, and shew'd me yesterday, Clad in a Gowne of mourning had I wist, The motion was almost too late they said, Whilst sad dispaire made all the World starke mad, They all arose, and I put vp my pen, It makes no matter, where, why, how, or when.