by John Donne
Doe with the Pirates share, and Dunkirkers.
Who wasts in meat, in clothes, in horse, he notes;
Who loves Whores, who boyes, and who goats.
I more amas’d then Circes prisoners, when
They felt themselves turne beasts, felt my selfe then
Becomming Traytor, and mee thought I saw
One of our Giant Statutes ope his jaw
To sucke me in; for hearing him, I found
That as burnt venom’d Leachers doe grow sound
By giving others their soares, I might growe
Guilty, and he free: Therefore I did shew
All signes of loathing; But since I am in,
I must pay mine, and my forefathers sinne
To the last farthing; Therefore to my power
Toughly’and stubbornly’I beare this crosse; But the’houre
Of mercy now was come; He tries to bring
Me to pay’a fine to scape his torturing,
And saies, ‘Sir, can you spare me?’ I said, ‘Willingly.’
‘Nay, Sir, can you spare me’a crown?’ Thankfully I
Gave it, as Ransome; But as fidlers, still,
Though they be paid to be gone, yet needs will
Thrust one more jigge upon you: so did hee
With his long complementall thankes vexe me.
But he is gone, thankes to his needy want,
And the prerogative of my Crowne: Scant
His thankes were ended, when I, (which did see
All the court fill’d with more strange things then hee)
Ran from thence with such or more hast, then one
Who feares more actions, doth make from prison.
At home in wholesome solitarinesse
My precious soule began, the wretchednesse
Of suiters at court to mourne, and a trance
Like his, who dreamt he saw hell, did advance
It selfe on mee; Such men as he saw there,
I saw at court, and worse, and more; Low feare
Becomes the guiltie, not th’accuser; Then,
Shall I, nones slave, of high borne, or rais’d men
Feare frownes? And, my Mistresse Truth, betray thee
To th’huffing braggart, puft Nobility?
No, no, Thou which since yesterday hast beene
Almost about the whole world, hast thou seene,
O Sunne, in all thy journey, Vanitie,
Such as swells the bladder of our court? I
Thinke he which made your waxen garden, and
Transported it from Italy to stand
With us, at London, flouts our Presence, for
Just such gay painted things, which no sappe, nor
Tast have in them, ours are; And naturall
Some of the stocks are, their fruits, bastard all.
‘Tis ten a clock and past; All whom the Mues,
Baloune, Tennis, Dyet, or the stewes,
Had all the morning held, now the second
Time made ready, that day, in flocks, are found
In the Presence, and I, (God pardon mee.)
As fresh, and sweet their Apparrells be, as bee
The fields they sold to buy them;’For a King
Those hose are,’cry the flatterers; And bring
Them next weeke to the Theatre to sell;
Wants reach all states; Me seemes they doe as well
At stage, as court; All are players; who e’r lookes
(For themselves dare not goe) o’r Cheapside books,
Shall finde their wardrops Inventory. Now,
The Ladies come; As Pirats, which doe know
That there came weak ships fraught with Cutchannel,
The men board them; and praise, as they thinke, well,
Their beauties; they the mens wits; Both are bought.
Why good wits ne’r weare scarlet gownes, I thought
This cause, These men, mens wits for speeches buy,
And women buy all reds which scarlets die.
He call’d her beauty limetwigs, her haire net;
She feares her drugs ill laid, her haire loose set.
Would not Heraclitus laugh to see Macrine,
From hat, to shooe, himselfe at doore refine,
As if the Presence were a Moschite,’and lift
His skirts and hose, and call his clothes to shrift,
Making them confesse not only mortall
Great staines and holes in them; but veniall
Feathers and dust, wherewith they fornicate;
And then by Durers rules survay the state
Of his each limbe, and with strings the odds tries
Of his neck to his legge, and wast to thighes.
So in immaculate clothes, and Symetrie
Perfect as circles, with such nicetie
As a young Preacher at his first time goes
To preach, he enters, and a Lady which owes
Him not so much as good will, he arrests,
And unto her protests protests protests
So much as at Rome would serve to have throwne
Ten Cardinalls into th’Inquisition;
And whisperd ‘by Jesu’,so’often,that A
Pursevant would have ravish’d him away
For saying of our Ladies psalter; But ‘tis fit
That they each other plague, they merit it.
But here comes Glorius that will plague them both,
Who, in the other extreme, only doth
Call a rough carelessnesse, good fashion;
Whose cloak his spurres teare; whom he spits on
He cares not; His ill words doe no harme
To him; he rusheth in, as if ‘Arme, arme,’
He meant to crie; And though his face be’as ill
As theirs which in old hangings whip Christ, yet still
He strives to looke worse, he keepes all in awe;
Jeasts like a licenc’d foole, commands like law.
Tyr’d, now I leave this place, and but pleas’d so
As men which from gaoles to’execution goe,
Goe through the great chamber (why is it hung
With the seaven deadly sinnes?); Being among
Those Askaparts, men big enough to throw
Charing Crosse for a barre, men that doe know
No token of worth, but ‘Queenes man’, and fine
Living, barrells of beefe, flaggons of wine;
I shooke like a spyed Spie. Preachers which are
Seas of Wit and Arts, you can, then dare,
Drowne the sinnes of this place, for, for mee
Which am but a scarce brooke, it enough shall bee
To wash the staines away; Though I yet
With Macchabees modestie, the knowne merit
Of my worke lessen: yet some wise man shall,
I hope, esteeme my writs Canonicall.
SATYRE V
THOU SHALT NOT LAUGH IN THIS LEAFE, MUSE, NOR THEY
Thou shalt not laugh in this leafe, Muse, nor they
Whom any pity warmes; He which did lay
Rules to make Courtiers, (hee being understood
May make good Courtiers, but who Courtiers good?)
Frees from the sting of jests all who’in extreme
Are wrech’d or wicked: of these two a theame
Charity and liberty give me. What is hee
Who Officers rage, and Suiters misery
Can write, and jest? If all things be in all,
As I thinke, since all, which were, are, and shall
Bee, be made of the same elements:
Each thing, each thing implyes or represents.
Then man is a world; in which, Officers
Are the vast ravishing seas; and Suiters,
Springs; now full, now shallow, now drye; which, to
That which drownes them, run: These selfe reasons do
Prove the world a man, in which, officers
Are the devouring stomacke, and Suiters
Th’excrem
ents, which they voyd. All men are dust;
How much worse are Suiters, who to mens lust
Are made preyes? O worse then dust, or wormes meat,
For they do’eate you now, whose selves wormes shall eate.
They are the mills which grinde you, yet you are
The winde which drives them; and a wastfull warre
Is fought against you, and you fight it; they
Adulterate lawe, and you prepare their way
Like wittals; th’issue your owne ruine is.
Greatest and fairest Empresse, know you this?
Alas, no more then Thames calme head doth know
Whose meades her armes drowne, or whose corne o’rflow:
You Sir, whose righteousnes she loves, whom I
By having leave to serve, am most richly
For service paid, authoriz’d, now beginne
To know and weed out this enormous sinne.
O Age of rusty iron! some better wit
Call it some worse name, if ought equall it;
Th’iron Age that was, when justice was sold; now
Injustice is sold dearer farre. Allow
All demands, fees, and duties; gamsters, anon
The mony which you sweat, and sweare for, is gon
Into’other hands: So controverted lands
Scape, like Angelica, the strivers hands.
If Law be in the Judges heart, and hee
Have no heart to resist letter, or fee,
Where wilt thou’appeale? Powre of the Courts below
Flow from the first maine head, and these can throw
Thee, if they sucke thee in, to misery,
To fetters, halters; But if th’injury
Steele thee to dare complaine, Alas, thou go’st
Against the stream, when upwards: when thou’art most
Heavy’and most faint; and in these labours they,
‘Gainst whom thou should’st complaine, will in the way
Become great seas, o’r which, when thou shalt bee
Forc’d to make golden bridges, thou shalt see
That all thy gold was drown’d in them before;
All things follow their like, only who have may’have more.
Judges are Gods; he who made and said them so,
Meant not that men should be forc’d to them to goe,
By meanes of Angels; When supplications
We send to God, to Dominations,
Powers, Cherubins, and all heavens Courts, if wee
Should pay fees as here, daily bread would be
Scarce to Kings; so ‘tis. Would it not anger
A Stoicke, a coward, yea a Martyr,
To see a Pursivant come in, and call
All his cloathes, Copes; Bookes, Primers; and all
His Plate, Challices; and mistake them away,
And aske a fee for comming? Oh, ne’r may
Faire lawes white reverend name be strumpeted,
To warrant thefts: she is established
Recorder to Destiny, on earth, and shee
Speakes Fates words, and but tells us who must bee
Rich, who poore, who in chaires, who in jayles:
Shee is all faire, but yet hath foule long nailes,
With which she scracheth Suiters; In bodies
Of men, so’in law, nailes are th’extremities,
So Officers stretch to more then Law can doe,
As our nailes reach what no else part comes to.
Why bar’st thou to yon Officer? Foole, Hath hee
Got those goods, for which erst men bar’d to thee?
Foole, twice, thrice, thou’hast bought wrong,’and now hungerly
Beg’st right; But that dole comes not till these dye.
Thou’had’st much, and lawes Urim and Thummim trie
Thou wouldst for more; and for all hast paper
Enough to cloath all the great Carricks Pepper.
Sell that, and by that thou much more shalt leese,
Then Haman, when he sold his Antiquities.
SATIRE VI.
MEN WRITE THAT LOVE AND REASON DISAGREE
MEN write that love and reason disagree,
But I ne’er saw ‘t express’d as ‘tis in thee.
Well, I may lead thee, God must make thee see,
But, thine eyes blind too, there’s no hope for thee.
Thou say’st she’s wise and witty, fair and free; 5
All these are reasons why she should scorn thee.
Thou dost protest thy love, and wouldst it show
By matching her as she would match her foe;
And wouldst persuade her to a worse offence,
Than that whereof thou didst accuse her wench. 10
Reason there’s none for thee, but thou mayst vex
Her with example. Say, for fear her sex
Shun her, she needs must change; I do not see
How reason e’er can bring that ‘must’ to thee.
Thou art a match a justice to rejoice, 15
Fit to be his, and not his daughter’s choice.
Urged 1 with his threats she’d scarcely stay with thee,
And wouldst thou have this to choose thee, being free?
Go, then, and punish some soon-gotten stuff;
For her dead husband this hath mourn’d enough, 20
In hating thee. Thou mayst one like this meet;
For spite take her, prove kind, make thy breath sweet,
Let her see she hath cause, and, to bring to thee
Honest children, let her dishonest be.
If she be a widow I’ll warrant her 25
She’ll thee before her first husband prefer,
And will wish thou hadst had her maidenhead,
She’ll love thee so! for then thou hadst been dead.
But thou such strong love and weak reasons hast,
Thou must thrive there, or ever live disgraced. 30
Yet pause awhile; and thou mayst live to see
A time to come, wherein she may beg thee.
If thou’lt not pause nor change, she’ll beg thee now,
Do what she can, love for nothing she’ll allow.
Besides, here were too much gain and merchandise, 35
And when thou art rewarded, desert dies.
Now thou hast odds of him she loves; he may doubt
Her constancy, but none can put thee out.
Again, be thy love true, she’ll prove divine,
And in the end the good on’t will be thine. 40
For, though thou must ne’er think of other love,
And so wilt advance her as high above
Virtue, as cause above effect can be;
‘Tis virtue to be chaste, which she’ll make thee.
SATIRE VII.
TO SIR NICHOLAS SMYTH
SLEEP, next society and true friendship,
Man’s best contentment, doth securely slip
His passions, and the world’s troubles; rock me,
O sleep, wean’d from my 1 dear friend’s company,
In a cradle free from dreams or thoughts, there 5
Where poor men lie, for kings asleep do fear.
Here sleep’s house by famous Ariosto,
By silver-tongued Ovid, and many moe
— Perhaps by golden-mouthed Spenser too, pardie —
Which builded was some dozen stories high, 10
I had repair’d, but that it was so rotten,
As sleep awaked by rats from thence was gotten;
And I will build no new, for by my will
Thy father’s house shall be the fairest still
In Exeter. Yet, methinks, for all their wit, 15
Those wits that say nothing, best describe it.
Without it there is no sense; only in this
Sleep is unlike a long parenthesis.
Not to save charges, but would I had slept
The time I spent in London, when I kept 20
Fighting and untruss’d gallants’ company,<
br />
In which Natta, the new knight, seized on me,
And offered me th’ experience he had bought
With great expense. I found him thoroughly taught
In curing burns. His thing had had more scars 25
Than T — — himself; like Epps it often wars,
And still is hurt. For his body and state
The physic and counsel — which came too late
‘Gainst whores and dice — he now on me bestows;
Most superficially he speaks of those. 30
I found by him, least sound, him who most knows.
He swears well, speaks ill, but best of clothes,
What fits summer, what winter, what the spring.
He had living, but now these ways come in
His whole revenues. Where his whore now dwells, 35
And hath dwelt, since his father’s death, he tells.
Yea, he tells most cunningly each hid cause
Why whores forsake their bawds. To these, some laws
He knows of the duel, and touch his skill 2
The least jot in that or these, he quarrel will, 40
Though sober, but ne’er fought. I know
What made his valour undubb’d windmill go,
Within a pint at most; yet for all this
— Which is most strange — Natta thinks no man is
More honest than himself. Thus men may want 45
Conscience, whilst being brought up ignorant,
They use themselves to vice. And besides those
Illiberal arts forenamed, no vicar knows
Nor other captain less than he; his schools
Are ordinaries, where civil men seem fools, 50
Or are for being there; his best books, plays,
Where, meeting godly scenes, perhaps he prays.
His first set prayer was for his father, ill 3
And sick — that he might die; that had, until
The lands were gone he troubled God no more, 55
And then ask’d him but his right — that the whore
Whom he had kept, might now keep him; she spent,
They left each other on even terms; she went
To Bridewell, he unto the wars, where want
Hath made him valiant, and a lieutenant 60
He is become; where, as they pass apace,
He steps aside, and for his captain’s place
He prays again — tells God he will confess
His sins; swear, drink, dice, and whore thenceforth less,
On this condition, that his captain die 65
And he succeed; but his prayer did not. They
Both cashier’d came home, and he is braver now
Than his captain; all men wonder, few know how;
Can he rob? ‘No.’ Cheat? ‘No.’ Or doth he spend
His own? ‘No; Fidus, he is thy dear friend; 70
