Times curtaine dravvne, or the anatomie of vanitie VVith other choice poems, entituled; health from Helicon. By Richard Bathvvayte Oxonian.

The Old-mans Hearse; OR The Yong-mans Iubile.

Ioy appeares in midst of teares.

HEars't thou not Vitulino, who is dead! Thy father man; nay, hang not downe thy head Like to a Bull-rush: there's no cause at all That thou so childishly shuld mone his fal Whose fall's thy rising; for He wish'd to die. Yea, and to put his Soule in ieopardie, With his iniurious course to make thee rich, Or thy wrong Father'd Imps he car'd not which: But what is that to thee, thou need'st not care, How his sin-pricked-pressed soule doth fare; The Prouerbe is, how ere th'effect seeme euill, " Happie's that Sonne, whose Father goes to th' Deuill. Yet shed some fained teares; but I doe feare, Th' art not so tender-harted, therefore heare What thou shalt doe; put on a Vergis-looke, And tye an Onion in thy Napkins nooke,

Which will enforce thee weepe, (right sure I am) And make thee seeme a tender-harted man? But many things it's fitting thou should haue, To bring Him honestly vnto his Graue; As first, though He was first that ere exprest, His Gentrie by his Coate or by his Crest, Thou must prouide some Herald that may draw His late-vnknowne descent, and by the Law Of Armes may Gentilize the Pesant so, As you for Gentlemen may after goe. Which, that each thing may be in order done, Let th' Herald ranke the Mourners one by one, Where some poore snakes that cottage on thy Land May carry each a Scutchion in their hand, And seeme to mourne, tho they were much to blame To mourne his death that sought to beggar them. But some Diuine thou must haue to commend His zealous life, and his Religious end; Which taske, as it thy bountie doth require, " For th' Labourer is worthie of his hyre, Clapp me a brace of Angells in his fist, And that will make him say, Thy Father's blist, Though his corrupted Conscience say no, For what is it good Angells will not doe? O how he'le make the Church ring with his prayse, Entitling Him, the Mirrour of his dayes, A Patron of pure Iustice, one, whose doore Was thronged still with crowding of the poore, (Without least crum of comfort) being knowne, To be the Almes-basket of the Towne. And then He 'le faine a teare, and wish to see The happie end of many such as Hee;

And he ha's cause to wish it, for their death Might guild in time his mercenarie breath. Then He 'le descend to mans Mortalitie, Which He 'le dilate on as historically; " Where's good Aeneas, Tellus, Ancus he " That was so rich? as other Mortalls be, " Consum'd to dust, so as that supreme blesse " They plac'd in Wealth,'s reduc'd to rottennesse. And will not this doe brauely? when a Swine That nere did one good deed in all his time, But grunting in his Stye, or in his Stall, Nere fed* 1.1 staru'd soule but at his Funerall, Must be canoniz'd Saint! thrice blessed gold, That art so soueraigne to eternize mould, And make corruption glorious, whose esteeme Can make our foulest vices vertues seeme! Where an Incarnate Diuell that did shon The sight of God is made an Angell on, Transpos'd from earth to heauen; yet ten to seuen In all his life He scarce once thought on Heauen. Now when he ha's thy Fathers vertues show'd, Wilt thou not thinke thy Angells well bestow'd? Yes Vitulino, and will make this vse Of his depraued Doctrine: Timès abuse Drawne from oppression, iniurie, and wrong, May purchase praises from a hyrelings tongue, Sooner then best deseruings; which may be A motiue to thy owne Securitie, Obseruing how Opinion oft-times giues " Best name to him that most securely liues. This done, & now the s••ope-sleu'd mourning gown•• Is from his sable Pulpit comming downe,

And thy worme-breeding Father's to be laide In his last home, there must a Tombe be made Of Porphyrite Marble, or the Thracian stone, To memorise his Worship being gone; Whereon t'engraue some verse, were not amisse, T'expresse his worth, as such an one as this. " Demas dide rich they say, but 'tis not so,* 1.2 " For he dide poore, and was indebted too; " How should that be? obserue me & I'le tell yee " He dide indebted both to backe and bellie, " For all He scrap'd from his Atturneyes fees, " Seru'd but starue his maw with bread and cheese: " So as 'mongst those we rightly may him call. " Whose life spent lesse then did his Funerall. " For all his life his house scarce eate one beast, " Yet dead, his Son makes vp the Churles feast. This Monument when thou erected hast, And on the front a Plate of Brasse hast plas't, With this Inscription, or one of like sort, (But Epitaphs indeed should be more short) Let this same Tombe where thou thy Father lay Be th'place of payment on each festiuall day; For't would delight the old Chrone but to heare His Sonne and heire to make his Checker there: Besides chinke, chinke's a Misers heauen on earth, And therefore now when He is in the dearth Of comfort, it were good t'allay his paine With sight of that would raise him vp againe. But now to thee, who like Stericyd••s Canst draw Sun, Moone, and Starres what way thou please With thy guilt Iacobs staffe, me thinkes I see, By calculating thy natiuitie

In thee (yet I'me no Wizard) Midas Fat•• " That staru'd himselfe to better his estate. Yet thou'lt descend to th' Lapp of Danae, Mall, Besse, coy Kate, or bashfull Barbarie, In showers of gold, and then will wish and wooe, But still with gold, for else thou know'st not how; And promise all content, as curious fare, Gorgeous attyre, and pleasures 'boue compare, Destilled ambers, pearled broaths, and th' fruit Which wretched Adam tasted; for no doubt " Women doe loue that fruit which is denide them " More then all profferd fruit that grows beside them. But what's this Vitulino? Doest not know, A wanton Wench will not be pleased so? A toothlesse Hagg perchance, whose onely Blisse Consists in hoording, will like well of this, And will adore thy Golden-calfe, for shee In other ioyes ha's no felicitie▪ But such, whose prime of yeares, and pride of youth, Grac'd with a smile as blith, a skin as smooth, Charm'd with Loue-whispring tales, Loue-piercing eyes, Rapt with delight of dreaming fantasies, Wedded to loue, not wealth, content, not gold, Being so free as riches cannot hold, Nor power restraine, scorne with their heeles to haue Their vncontroul'd affections made a slaue To dunge or drosse, where loue is oft-times crost, The most in that where it possesseth most. And yet how soueraigne is't to see a chest Ramm'd with whole heapes of gold; O shee is blest That may possesse so glorious a Saint! Indeede shee were if there were no content

But in possessing; but alas we finde There is another Secret in the minde, That passeth earth, such difference doe we feele, 'Twixt Plutoes Court, and Platoes Common-weale. Yet boast thou may, that thou art one of those That hast to guild thy friends, to gall thy foes; For who will not attend thee and bestow Their best observance on thy t••encher too, And cappe and knee this Isis Asse of wealth, ••and cry,-The Lord preserue your worships health? But if thou'de looke into the inner man, And th' treasure He enioyes, I doubt me than, Thou wouldst complaine, and thy estate deplore, To see thy Soile so rich, thy Soule so poore, Indeed I must confesse th' hast wealth at will, Store of possessions, and increasest still Thy large-inhanced rents; but (pray thee) can These (of themselues) make thee a happie man▪ No Vitulino, for when Time shall come, Thy pompe must be reduced to a Tombe, A shrowding sheete, a silly clott of clay, And all those Summer-gnats are flowne away, (Thy fained friends I meane) wealth cannot bayle thee From those tormenting pangs that shall assayle thee. Where's then thy* 1.3 Gold, those Lands lay here and there, Perchance possessed by another Heire Then He for whom thou aym'd them; yea 'tmay be That He thou hated most (as oft we see) Claimes to be thy Successour! and can this That adds grace to our foes, include our blisse▪ It cannot; therefore heare me ere I leaue thee, My lines shall say, I loue thee, though I grieue thee.

Take an* 1.4 example by that faithlesse Iew, Whose soule I feare (and ô I doubt too true Is my religious feare) who had the name Of an Oppressor: though from him thou came, Trace not his stepps; let charitable deedes Be those renewing and reviving seedes Which blossome in thy soule; remember hence " No griefe like to a wounded Conscience. Make not the Widdow weepe, the Orphane cry, Sith euery teare that falleth from her eye, Is botteld by the Lord; relieue the poore Out of the great aboundance of thy store; Make* 1.5 restitution with good Zebedee Of what thy Father got iniuriously; " So Fame acknowledging her selfe thy Debter, " Shall say, ••••nce prou'd the Sonne the Fathers better.

FINIS.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Mi••••m pe∣••it Lazarus & 〈◊〉〈◊〉 non datur, guttam Diues postu∣lat & non ••uditur.
• * 1.2

  Vpon the late decea∣sed Pinch∣gut Demas.
• * 1.3

  Aurum e••∣si volueris, forte non h••bebis: Deu•• cum vólue∣ris, habebis. Aug.
• * 1.4

  Sit filiu•• ipse p••renti in patris ex∣••••iplum.
• * 1.5

  Non remit∣titur pecca∣tum, donec restituitur ablatum.