John Donne

by John Donne

  IDIOS

  As I have brought this song that I may do

  [230] A perfect sacrifice, I’ll burn it too.

  ALLOPHANES

  No, sir, this paper I have justly got,

  For in burnt incense, the perfume is not

  His only that presents it, but of all.

  What ever celebrates this festival

  Is common, since the joy thereof is so.

  Nor may yourself be priest; but let me go

  Back to the court, and I will lay’it upon

  Such altars as prize your devotion.

  Satires

  Satire I

  Away thou fondling motley humorist,

  Leave me, and in this standing wooden chest,

  Consorted with these few books, let me lie

  In prison,’and here be coffined when I die;

  Here are God’s conduits, grave divines; and here

  Nature’s secretary, the philosopher;

  And jolly statesmen, which teach how to tie

  The sinews of a city’s mystic body;

  Here gathering chroniclers, and by them stand

  [10] Giddy fantastic poets of each land.

  Shall I leave all this constant company,

  And follow headlong, wild uncertain thee?

  First swear by thy best love in earnest

  (If thou which lov’st all, canst love any best)

  Thou wilt not leave me in the middle street,

  Though some more spruce companion thou dost meet,

  Not though a captain do come in thy way,

  Bright parcel, gilt with forty dead men’s pay,

  Not though a brisk, perfumed, pert courtier

  [20] Deign with a nod thy courtesy to answer,

  Nor come a velvet justice with a long

  Great train of blue coats, twelve or fourteen strong,

  Wilt thou grin or fawn on him, or prepare

  A speech to court his beauteous son and heir?

  For better or worse take me, or leave me;

  To take and leave me is adultery.

  O monstrous, superstitious puritan,

  Of refined manners, yet ceremonial man,

  That when thou meet’st one, with enquiring eyes

  [30] Dost search, and like a needy broker prize

  The silk and gold he wears, and to that rate

  So high or low, dost raise thy formal hat,

  That wilt consort none, until thou have known

  What lands he hath in hope, or of his own,

  As though all thy companions should make thee

  Jointures, and marry thy dear company.

  Why should’st thou (that dost not only approve,

  But in rank itchy lust, desire and love

  The nakedness and bareness to enjoy,

  [40] Of thy plump muddy whore, or prostitute boy)

  Hate virtue, though she be naked and bare?

  At birth, and death, our bodies naked are;

  And till our souls be unapparelled

  Of bodies, they from bliss are banished.

  Man’s first blest state was naked; when by sin

  He lost that, yet he was clothed but in beasts’ skin,

  And in this coarse attire, which I now wear,

  With God and with the muses I confer.

  But since thou like a contrite penitent,

  [50] Charitably warned of thy sins, dost repent

  These vanities and giddinesses, lo

  I shut my chamber door, and come; let’s go.

  But sooner may a cheap whore, who hath been

  Worn by as many several men in sin

  As are black feathers or musk-colour hose,

  Name her child’s right true father ’mongst all those;

  Sooner may one guess who shall bear away

  Th’Infanta’of London, heir to’an India;

  And sooner may a gulling weather-spy

  [60] By drawing forth heaven’s scheme tell certainly

  What fashioned hats, or ruffles, or suits next year

  Our subtle-witted, antic youths will wear;

  Than thou, when thou depart’st from me, canst show

  Whither, why, when, or with whom thou would’st go.

  But how shall I be pardoned my offence

  That thus have sinned against my conscience?

  Now we are in the street; he first of all

  Improvidently proud, creeps to the wall,

  And so imprisoned and hemmed in by me

  [70] Sells for a little state his liberty;

  Yet though he cannot skip forth now to greet

  Every fine silken painted fool we meet,

  He them to him with amorous smiles allures,

  And grins, smacks, shrugs, and such an itch endures,

  As prentices or schoolboys which do know

  Of some gay sport abroad, yet dare not go.

  And as fiddlers stop lowest, at highest sound,

  So to the most brave, stoops he nigh’st the ground.

  But to a grave man, he doth move no more

  [80] Than the wise politic horse would heretofore,

  Or thou, O elephant or ape, wilt do,

  When any names the King of Spain to you.

  Now leaps he upright, jogs me, and cries, Do’you see

  Yonder well favoured youth? Which? O, ’tis he

  That dances so divinely; O, said I,

  Stand still, must you dance here for company?

  He drooped, we went, till one (which did excel

  Th’Indians in drinking his tobacco well)

  Met us; they talked; I whispered, Let us go,

  [90] ’T may be you smell him not, truly I do.

  He hears not me, but, on the other side

  A many-coloured peacock having spied,

  Leaves him and me; I for my lost sheep stay;

  He follows, overtakes, goes on the way,

  Saying, him whom I last left, all repute

  For his device in handsoming a suit,

  To judge of lace, pink, panes, print, cut, and plight,

  Of all the court, to have the best conceit.

  Our dull comedians want him, let him go;

  [100] But O, God strengthen thee, why stop’st thou so?

  Why? He hath travailed; long? No, but to me

  (Which understand none) he doth seem to be

  Perfect French, and Italian. I replied,

  So is the pox. He answered not, but spied

  More men of sort, of parts, and qualities;

  At last his love he in a window spies,

  And like light dew exhaled, he flings from me,

  Violently ravished to his lechery.

  Many were there, he could command no more;

  [110] He quarreled, fought, bled; and turned out of door,

  Directly came to me hanging the head,

  And constantly awhile must keep his bed.

  Satire II

  Sir, though (I thank God for it) I do hate

  Perfectly all this town; yet there’s one state

  In all ill things so excellently best,

  That hate, towards them, breeds pity towards the rest.

  Though poetry indeed be such a sin

  As I think that brings dearths, and Spaniards in,

  Though like the pestilence and old-fashioned love,

  Riddlingly it catch men, and doth remove

  Never, till it be starved out; yet their state

  [10] Is poor, disarmed, like papists, not worth hate.

  One (like a wretch, which at bar judged as dead,

  Yet prompts him which stands next, and cannot read,

  And saves his life) gives idiot actors means

  (Starving himself) to live by’his laboured scenes;

  As in some organ, puppets dance above

  And bellows pant below, which them do move.

  One would move love by rhythms, but witchcraft’s charms

  Bring not now their old fears, nor their old harms;

>   Rams and slings now are seely battery,

  [20] Pistolets are the best artillery.

  And they who write to lords, rewards to get,

  Are they not like singers at doors for meat?

  And they who write, because all write, have still

  That excuse for writing, and for writing ill.

  But he is worst who (beggarly) doth chaw

  Others’ wits’ fruits, and in his ravenous maw

  Rankly digested, doth those things out-spew

  As his own things; and they’are his own, ’tis true,

  For if one eat my meat, though it be known

  [30] The meat was mine, th’excrement is his own.

  But these do me no harm, nor they which use

  To outdo dildoes, and out-usure Jews;

  To’out-drink the sea, to’out-swear the Litany;

  Who with sins of’all kinds as familiar be

  As confessors; and for whose sinful sake,

  Schoolmen new tenements in hell must make;

  Whose strange sins, canonists could hardly tell

  In which commandment’s large receipt they dwell.

  But these punish themselves; the insolence

  [40] Of Coscus only breeds my just offence,

  Whom time (which rots all, and makes botches pox,

  And plodding on, must make a calf an ox)

  Hath made a lawyer, which was (alas) of late

  But scarce a poet, jollier of this state

  Than are new beneficed ministers, he throws

  Like nets, or lime-twigs, wheresoe’er he goes,

  His title’of barrister, on every wench,

  And woos in language of the pleas and bench:

  A motion, Lady; Speak Coscus; I have been

  [50] In love ever since tricesimo of’the Queen,

  Continual claims I’have made, injunctions got

  To stay my rival’s suit, that he should not

  Proceed. Spare me. In Hilary term I went;

  You said, if I return next size in Lent,

  I should be in remitter of your grace;

  In th’interim my letters should take place

  Of affidavits; words, words, which would tear

  The tender labyrinth of a soft maid’s ear

  More, more, than ten Sclavonians’ scolding, more

  [60] Than when winds in our ruined abbeys roar;

  When sick with poetry, and possessed with muse

  Thou wast, and mad, I hoped; but men which choose

  Law practice for mere gain, bold soul, repute

  Worse than embrothelled strumpet’s prostitute.

  Now like an owl-like watchman, he must walk

  His hand still at a bill; now he must talk

  Idly, like prisoners, which whole months will swear

  That only suretyship hath brought them there,

  And to’every suitor lie in every thing,

  [70] Like a king’s favourite, or like a king;

  Like a wedge in a block, wring to the bar,

  Bearing like asses; and more shameless far

  Than carted whores lie to the grave judge; for

  Bastardy’abounds not in kings’ titles, nor

  Simony’and sodomy in churchmen’s lives,

  As these things do in him; by these he thrives.

  Shortly’(as the sea) he’will compass all our land,

  From Scots to Wight, from Mount to Dover strand.

  And spying heirs melting with luxury,

  [80] Satan will not joy at their sins, as he.

  For as a thrifty wench scrapes kitchen stuff,

  And barrelling the droppings and the snuff

  Of wasting candles, which in thirty year

  (Relic-like kept) perchance buys wedding gear;

  Piecemeal he gets lands, and spends as much time

  Wringing each acre, as men pulling prime.

  In parchments then, large as his fields, he draws

  Assurances, big as glossed civil laws,

  So huge that men (in our time’s forwardness)

  [90] Are Fathers of the Church for writing less.

  These he writes not; nor for these written pays,

  Therefore spares no length; as in those first days

  When Luther was professed, he did desire

  Short Pater nosters, saying as a friar

  Each day his beads, but having left those laws,

  Adds to Christ’s prayer the power and glory clause.

  But when he sells or changes land, he’impairs

  His writings, and (unwatched) leaves out, ses heires,

  As slyly’as any commenter goes by

  [100] Hard words, or sense; or in divinity

  As controverters, in vouched texts, leave out

  Shrewd words, which might against them clear the doubt.

  Where are those spread woods which clothed heretofore

  Those bought lands? Not built, nor burnt within door.

  Where’s th’old landlord’s troops, and alms? In great halls

  Carthusian fasts, and fulsome bacchanals

  Equally’I hate; means bless; in rich men’s homes

  I bid kill some beasts, but no hecatombs,

  None starve, none surfeit so; but (O) we’allow

  [110] Good works as good, but out of fashion now,

  Like old rich wardrobes; but my words none draws

  Within the vast reach of th’huge statute laws.

  Satire III

  Kind pity chokes my spleen; brave scorn forbids

  Those tears to issue which swell my eyelids;

  I must not laugh, nor weep sins, and be wise;

  Can railing then cure these worn maladies?

  Is not our mistress, fair Religion,

  As worthy’of all our soul’s devotion

  As virtue was to the first blinded age?

  Are not heaven’s joys as valiant to assuage

  Lusts as earth’s honour was to them? Alas,

  [10] As we do them in means, shall they surpass

  Us in the end, and shall thy father’s spirit

  Meet blind philosophers in heaven, whose merit

  Of strict life may be’imputed faith, and hear

  Thee, whom he taught so easy ways and near

  To follow, damned? O, if thou dar’st, fear this;

  This fear great courage and high valour is.

  Dar’st thou aid mutinous Dutch, and dar’st thou lay

  Thee in ships, wooden sepulchres, a prey

  To leaders’ rage, to storms, to shot, to dearth?

  [20] Dar’st thou dive seas and dungeons of the earth?

  Hast thou courageous fire to thaw the ice

  Of frozen North discoveries? And thrice

  Colder than salamanders, like divine

  Children in th’oven, fires of Spain, and the line,

  Whose countries limbecks to our bodies be,

  Canst thou for gain bear? And must every he

  Which cries not, Goddess, to thy mistress, draw,

  Or eat thy poisonous words? Courage of straw!

  O desperate coward, wilt thou seem bold, and

  [30] To thy foes and His (Who made thee to stand

  Sentinel in His world’s garrison) thus yield,

  And for forbidden wars, leave th’appointed field?

  Know thy foe, the foul Devil he’is, whom thou

  Strivest to please, for hate, not love, would allow

  Thee fain, His whole realm to be quit; and as

  The world’s all parts wither away and pass,

  So the world’s self, thy other loved foe, is

  In her decrepit wane, and thou, loving this,

  Dost love a withered and worn strumpet; last,

  [40] Flesh (itself’s death) and joys which flesh can taste,

  Thou lov’st; and thy fair goodly soul, which doth

  Give this flesh power to taste joy, thou dost loathe.

  Seek true religion. O where? Mirreus

  Thinki
ng her unhoused here, and fled from us,

  Seeks her at Rome; there, because he doth know

  That she was there a thousand years ago,

  He loves her rags so, as we here obey

  The statecloth where the Prince sat yesterday.

  Crants to such brave loves will not be enthralled,

  [50] But loves her only, who’at Geneva’is called

  Religion, plain, simple, sullen, young,

  Contemptuous, yet unhandsome, as among

  Lecherous humours, there is one that judges

  No wenches wholesome, but coarse country drudges.

  Graius stays still at home here, and because

  Some preachers, vile ambitious bawds, and laws,

  Still new like fashions, bid him think that she

  Which dwells with us is only perfect, he

  Embraceth her whom his godfathers will

  [60] Tender to him, being tender, as wards still

  Take such wives as their guardians offer, or

  Pay values. Careless Phrygius doth abhor

  All because all cannot be good, as one

  Knowing some women whores, dares marry none.

  Gracchus loves all as one, and thinks that so

  As women do in diverse countries go

  In diverse habits, yet are still one kind,

  So doth, so is Religion; and this blind-

  ness too much light breeds; but unmoved thou

  [70] Of force must one, and forced but one allow;

  And the right; ask thy father which is she,

  Let him ask his; though truth and falsehood be

  Near twins, yet truth a little elder is;

  Be busy to seek her; believe me this,

  He’s not of none, nor worst, that seeks the best.

  To’adore, or scorn an image, or protest,

  May all be bad; doubt wisely; in strange way

  To stand enquiring right is not to stray;

  To sleep, or run wrong, is. On a huge hill,

  [80] Cragged and steep, Truth stands, and he that will

  Reach her, about must, and about must go;

  And what the’hill’s suddenness resists, win so;

  Yet strive so, that before age, death’s twilight,

  Thy soul rest, for none can work in that night.

  To will implies delay; therefore now do;

  Hard deeds, the body’s pains; hard knowledge too

  The mind’s endeavours reach, and mysteries

  Are like the sun, dazzling, yet plain to’all eyes.

  Keep the’truth which thou hast found; men do not stand

  [90] In so ill case, that God hath with His hand

  Signed kings’ blank charters to kill whom they hate,

  Nor are they vicars, but hangmen to fate.

  Fool and wretch, wilt thou let thy soul be tied