ANSWERING TO ONE THAT ASKED TO BE SEALED OF THE TRIBE OF BEN."
EN that are safe and sure in all they do,
Care not what trials they are put unto :
They meet the fire, the test, as martyrs
would,
And though opinion stamp them not, are gold.
I could say more of such, but that I fly
To speak myself out too ambitiously,
And shewing so weak an act to vulgar eyes,
Put conscience and my right to compromise.
Let those that merely talk, and never think,
That live in the wild anarchy of drink,
Subject to quarrel only; or else such
As make it their proficiency, how much
They've glutted in, and letcher'd out that week,
That never yet did friend or friendship seek,
4 An Epistle, &c.] This appears, from internal evidence, to have been written not long before the death of James. It was the practice of the older poets, upon request, to adopt young men of talents in whose reputation, or success in life, by a species of patronage or filiation, they became warmly interested. Jonson had many sons of this kind, and to an aspirant for the honour of becoming such (probably, to Randolph or Cleveland) he addresses the above Epistle. The number of his adopted progeny is alluded to in the foolish expression of one "that asked," &c.
There is a spirit and vigour in this Epistle which do the poet great credit. The sentiments are manly, and some of them drawn from the higher philosophy. It wants the smoothness and the artificial rhythm of these times; but what poem of equal length, of these times, possesses such depth of thought and force of expression ?
But for a sealing :5 let these men protest.
Or th' other on their borders, that will jest
On all souls that are absent; even the dead,
Like flies or worms, which man's corrupt parts fed :
That to speak well, think it above all sin,
Of any company but that they are in,
Call'd every night to supper in these fits,
And are received for the Covey of Wits;
That censure all the town, and all the affairs,
And know whose ignorance is more than theirs : Let these men have their ways, and take their times
To vent their libels, and to issue rhymes,
I have no portion in them, nor their deal
Of news they get, to strew out the long meal;
I study other friendships, and more one,
Than these can ever be, or else wish none.
What is't to me, whether the French design
Be, or be not, to get the Valteline?
Or the States' ships sent forth be like to meet
Some hopes of Spain in their West Indian fleet?
Whether the dispensation yet be sent,
Or that the match from Spain was ever meant?
I wish all well, and pray high heaven conspire
My prince's safety, and my king's desire;
But if for honour we must draw the sword,
And force back that which will not be restor❜d,
I have a body yet that spirit draws,
To live, or fall a carcase, in the cause.
So far without enquiry what the States,
Brunsfield, and Mansfield, do this year, my fates
5 But for a sealing,] i. e. becoming sureties for them, joining them in their bonds.
Of news they get, to strew out the long meal.] This is the town's honest man, described with such scorn and indignation in a former page. See Epig. cxv.
Shall carry me at call; and I'll be well,
Though I do neither hear these news, nor tell
Of Spain or France; or were not prick'd down one,
Of the late mystery of reception;
Although my fame to his not under-hears,
That guides the motions, and directs the bears.
But that's a blow, by which in time I may
Lose all my credit with my Christmas clay,.
And animated porcelaine of the court;
Ay, and for this neglect, the coarser sort
Of earthern jars there, may molest me too :
Well, with mine own frail pitcher, what to do
I have decreed; keep it from waves and press,
Lest it be justled, crack'd, made nought, or less.
Live to that point I will, for which I am man,
And dwell as in my centre, as I can,
Still looking to, and ever loving heaven ;
With reverence using all the gifts thence given :
'Mongst which, if I have any friendships sent,
Such as are square, well-tagg'd, and permanent,
Not built with canvas, paper, and false lights,
As are the glorious scenes at the great sights:
And that there be no fevery heats nor colds,
Oily expansions, or shrunk dirty folds,
But all so clear, and led by reason's flame,
As but to stumble in her sight were shame;
These I will honour, love, embrace, and serve,
And free it from all question to preserve.
So short you read my character, and theirs
I would call mine, to which not many stairs
Are ask'd to climb. First give me faith, who know
Myself a little; I will take you so,
As you have writ yourself: now stand, and then,
Sir, you are Sealed of the tribe of Ben.
THE DEDICATION OF THE KING'S NEW CELLAR TO BACCHUS.
Accessit fervor capiti, numerusque lucernis.
INCE, Bacchus, thou art father
Of wines, to thee the rather
We dedicate this Cellar,
Where now thou art made dweller,
And seal thee thy commission :
But 'tis with a condition,
That thou remain here taster
Of all to the great master;
And look unto their faces,
Their qualities and races,
That both their odour take him,
And relish merry make him.
For, Bacchus, thou art freër
Of cares, and overseër
Of feast and merry meeting,
And still begin'st the greeting:
See then thou dost attend him,
Lyæus, and defend him,
By all the arts of gladness,
From any thought like sadness.
So may'st thou still be younger
Than Phoebus, and much stronger,
To give mankind their eases,
And cure the world's diseases!
So may the Muses follow
Thee still, and leave Apollo,
And think thy stream more quicker
Than Hippocrene's liquor:
And thou make many a poet,
Before his brain do know it!
So may there never quarrel
Have issue from the barrel,
But Venus and the Graces
Pursue thee in all places,
And not a song be other
Than Cupid and his mother!
That when king James above here
Shall feast it, thou may'st love there
The causes and the guests too,
And have thy tales and jests too,
Thy circuits and thy rounds free,
As shall the feast's fair grounds be.
Be it he holds communion
In great St. George's union;
Or gratulates the passage
Of some well wrought embassage,
Whereby he may knit sure up
The wished peace of Europe:
Or else a health advances,
To put his court in dances,
And set us all on skipping,
When with his royal shipping,
The narrow seas are shady,
And Charles brings home the lady."
AN EPIGRAM ON THE COURT PUCELle.
OES the Court Pucelle then so censure me,
And thinks I dare not her? let the world
What though her chamber be the very pit, Where fight the prime cocks of the game, for wit;
1 And Charles brings home the lady.] This was written when the
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