by Thomas Nashe
What it is to Make Men Labour Without Hope
I will not stand to infer what a prejudice it is to the thrift of a flourishing state, to poison the growth of glory by giving it nought but the puddle water of penury to drink; to clip the wings of a high-towering falcon, who, whereas she wont in her feathered youthfulness, to look with an amiable eye upon her gray breast, and her speckled side sails, all sinewed with silver quills, and to drive whole armies of fearful fowl before her to her master’s table; now she sits sadly on the ground, picking of worms, mourning the cruelty of those ungentlemanlike idle hands, that dismembered the beauty of her train.
You all know that man, insomuch as he is the image of God, delighteth in honour and worship, and all Holy Writ warrants that delight, so it be not derogatory to any part of God’s own worship; now take away that delight, a discontented idleness overtakes him. For his hire, any handy-craftman, be he carpenter, joiner, or painter, will ploddingly do his day labour. But to add credit and fame to his workmanship, or to win a mastery to himself above all other, he will make a further assay in his trade than ever hitherto he did. He will have a thousand flourishes, which before he never thought upon, and in one day rid more out of hand than erst he did in ten. So in arms, so in arts; if titles of fame and glory be proposed to forward minds, or that sovereignty, whose sweetness they have not yet felt, be set in likely view for them to soar to, they will make a ladder of cord of the links of their brains, but they will fasten their hands, as well as their eyes, on the imaginative bliss which they already enjoy by admiration. Experience reproves me for a fool for dilating on so manifest a case.
The Danes are bursten-bellied sots, that are to be confuted with nothing but tankards or quart pots, and Ovid might as well have read his verses to the Getes143 that understood him not, as a man talk reason to them that have no ears but their mouths, nor sense but of that which they swallow down their throats.* God so love me as I love the quick-witted Italians, and therefore love them the more, because they mortally detest this surly, swinish generation.
I need not fetch colours from other countries to paint the ugly visage of Pride, since her picture is set forth in so many painted faces here at home. What drugs, what sorceries, what oils, what waters, what ointments, do our curious dames use to enlarge their withered† beauties! Their lips are as lavishly red, as if they used to kiss an ochreman144 every morning, and their cheeks sugar-candied and cherry-blushed so sweetly, after the colour of a new Lord Mayor’s posts, as if the pageant of their wedlock holiday were hard at the door; so that if a painter were to draw any of their counterfeits on a table he needs no more but wet his pencil, and dab it on their cheeks, and he shall have vermilion and white enough to furnish out his work, though he leave his tar-box at home behind him. Wise was that sin-washing poet that made The Ballad of Blue Starchand Poking Sticks, 145 for indeed the lawn of licentiousness hath consumed all the wheat of hospitality.146 It is said, Laurence Lucifer,147 that you went up and down London crying then like a lantern-and-candle man.148 I marvel no laundress would give you the washing and starching of your face for your labour, for God knows it is as black as the Black Prince.
It is suspected that you have been a great tobacco-taker in your youth, which causeth it to come so to pass; but Dame Nature, your nurse, was partly in fault, else she might have remedied it. She should have nointed your face overnight with lac virginis, 149 which baking upon it in bed till the morning, she might have peeled off the scale like the skin of a custard, and making a posset of verjuice150 mixed with the oil of Tartary and camphor, bathed it in it a quarter of an hour, and you had been as fair as the flour of the frying pan. I warrant we have old hacksters in this great grandmother of corporations, Madame Troynovant,151 that have not backbited any of their neighbours with the tooth of envy this twenty year, in the wrinkles of whose face ye may hide false dice, and play at cherry-pit in the dint of their cheeks: yet these aged mothers of iniquity will have their deformities new plastered over, and wear nosegays of yellow hair on their furies’ foreheads, when age hath written, ‘Ho, God be here,’ on their bald, burnt-parchment pates. Pish, pish, what talk you of old age or bald pates? Men and women that have gone under the South Pole must lay off their furred night-caps152 in spite of their teeth, and become yeomen of the vinegar bottle. A close periwig hides all the sins of an old whore-master; but the Cucullusnon facit monachum, 153 ‘tis not their new bonnets will keep them from the old boneache. Ware when a man’s sins are written on his eyebrows, and that there is not a hairbreadth betwixt them and the falling sickness. The times are dangerous, and this is an iron age, or rather no iron age (for swords and bucklers154 go to pawn apace in Long Lane),155 but a tin age, for tin and pewter are more esteemed than Latin.156 You that be wise, despise it, abhor it, neglect it, for what should a man care for gold that cannot get it?
The Commendation of Antiquaries
Laudamus veteres, sed nostris utimur annis157
An antiquary is an honest man, for he had rather scrape a piece of copper out of the dirt, than a crown out of Plowden’s158 standish. I know many wise gentlemen of this musty vocation, who, out of love with the times wherein they live, fall a-retailing of Alexander’s stirrups, because, in verity, there is not such a strong piece of stretching leather made nowadays, nor iron so well tempered for any money. They will blow their nose in a box, and say it is the spittle that Diogenes spat in one’s face; who, being invited to dinner to his house, that was neat and brave in all points as might be devised, and the grunting dog, somewhat troubled with the rheum (by means of his long fasting and staying for dinner more than wont) spat full in his host’s face. And being asked the reason of it, said it was the foulest place he could spy out in all his house.
Let their mistress, or some other woman, give them a feather of her fan for her favour, and if one ask them what it is they make answer, ‘A plume of the Phoenix’, whereof there is but one in all the whole world. A thousand gewgaws159 and toys have they in their chambers, which they heap up together, with infinite expense, and are made believe of them that sell them that they are rare and precious things, when they have gathered them upon some dunghill, or raked them out of the kennel by chance. I know one sold an old rope with four knots on it for four pound, in that he gave it out it was the length and breadth of Christ’s tomb. Let a tinker take a piece of brass worth a halfpenny, and set strange stamps on it, and I warrant he may make it worth to him of some fantastical fool, than all the kettles that ever he mended in his life. This is the disease of our newfangled humourists, that know not what to do with their wealth. It argueth a very rusty wit, so to dote on worm-eaten eld.160
The Complaint of Envy
Out upon it, how long is Pride a-dressing herself? Envy, awake, for thou must appear before Nicolao Malevolo,161 great muster-master of hell. Mark you this sly mate, how smoothly he looks? The poets were ill advised, that feigned him to be a lean, gag-toothed beldam, with hollow eyes, pale cheeks, and snaky hair; for he is not only a man, but a jolly, lusty, old gentleman, that will wink, and laugh, and jest drily, as if he were the honestest of a thousand; and I warrant you shall not hear a foul word come from him in a year. I will not contradict it, but the dog may worry a sheep in the dark and thrust his neck into the collar of clemency and pity when he hath done; as who should say, ‘God forgive him, he was asleep in the shambles, when the innocent was done to death.’ But openly, Envy sets a civil, fatherly countenance upon it, and hath not so much as a drop of blood in his face to attaint him of murder.
I thought it expedient in this my supplication, to place it next to Pride; for it is his adopted son. And hence comes it, that proud men repine at others’ prosperity, and grieve that any should be great but themselves. Mens cuiusque, is est quisque;162 it is a proverb that is as hoary as Dutch butter. If a man will go to the devil, he may go to the devil; there are a thousand juggling tricks to be used at ‘Hey pass, come aloft;’163 and the world hath cords enough to truss up a calf that stands in one’s way. Envy
is a crocodile that weeps when he kills, and fights with none but he feeds on. This is the nature of this quick-sighted monster: he will endure any pains to endamage another, waste his body with undertaking exploits that would require ten men’s strengths, rather than any should get a penny but himself, blear his eyes to stand in his neighbour’s light, and, to conclude, like Atlas underprop heaven alone, rather than any should be in heaven that he liked not of, or come unto heaven by any other means but by him.
Philip of Spain as Great an Enemy to Mankind as the Devil
You, goodman wanderer about the world, how do ye spend your time, that you do not rid us of these pestilent members? You are unworthy to have an office if you can execute it no better. Behold another enemy of mankind, besides thyself, exalted in the South, Philip of Spain; who, not content to be the god of gold and chiefest commander of content that Europe affords, but now he doth nothing but thirst after human blood, when his foot is on the threshold of the grave. And as a wolf, being about to devour a horse, doth ballast his belly with earth that he may hang the heavier upon him, and then forcibly flies in his face, never leaving his hold till he hath eaten him up; so this wolvish, unnatural usurper, being about to devour all Christendom by invasion, doth cram his treasures with Indian earth to make his malice more forcible, and then flies in the bosom of France and Belgia, never withdrawing his forces, as the wolf his fastening, till he hath devoured their welfare, and made the war-wasted carcases of both kingdoms a prey for his tyranny. Only poor England gives him bread for his cake,164 and holds him out at the arm’s end. His Armadoes, that like a high wood overshadowed the shrubs of our low ships, fled from the breath of our cannons, as vapours before the sun, or as the elephant flies from the ram, or the sea-whale from the noise of parched bones. The winds, envying that the air should be dimmed with such a chaos of wooden clouds, raised up high bulwarks of bellowing waves, whence death shot at their disordered navy; and the rocks with their overhanging jaws eat up all the fragments of oak that they left So perished our foes; so the heavens did fight for us. Præterit Hippomenes, resonant spectacula plausu.165
I do not doubt, Doctor Devil, but you were present in this action, or passion rather, and helped to bore holes in ships to make them sink faster, and rinse out galley-foists with salt water, that stunk like fusty barrels with their masters’ fear. It will be a good while ere you do as much for the king, as you did for his subjects. I would have ye persuade an army of gouty usurers to go to sea upon a boon voyage. Try if you can tempt Envy to embark himself in the maladventure and leave troubling the stream, that poets and good fellows may drink, and soldiers may sing Placebo, 166 that have murmured so long at the waters of strife.
But that will never be; for so long as Pride, Riot, and Whoredom are the companions of young courtiers, they will always be hungry and ready to bite at every dog that hath a bone given him beside themselves. Jesu, what secret grudge and rancour reigns amongst them, one being ready to despair of himself if he see the Prince but give his fellow a fair look, or to die for grief if he be put down in bravery167 never so little. Yet this custom have our false hearts fetched from other countries, that they will swear and protest love, where they hate deadly, and smile on him most kindly, whose subversion in soul they have vowed. Fraus siblimi regnat in aula:168 ‘tis rare to find a true friend in kings’ palaces. Either thou must be so miserable that thou fall into the hands of scornful pity, or thou canst not escape the sting of envy. In one thought assemble the famous men of all ages, and tell me which of them all sat in the sunshine of his sovereign’s grace, or waxed great of low beginnings, but he was spite-blasted, heaved at, and ill spoken of; and that of those that bare them most countenance.
Murder the Companion of Envy
But were Envy nought but words, it might seem to be only women’s sin; but it hath a lewd mate hanging on his sleeve, called Murder, a stern fellow, that, like a Spaniard in fight, aimeth all at the heart. He hath more shapes than Proteus, and will shift himself upon any occasion of revengement into a man’s dish, his drink, his apparel, his rings, his stirrups, his nosegay.
O Italy,* the academy of manslaughter, the sporting place of murder, the apothecary-shop of poison for all nations; how many kind of weapons hast thou invented for malice? Suppose I love a man’s wife, whose husband yet lives, and cannot enjoy her for his jealous overlooking: physic, or rather the art of murder, as it may be used, will lend one a medicine, which shall make him away, in the nature of that disease he is most subject to, whether in the space of a year, a month, half a year, or what tract of time you will, more or less.
The Pasquil that was made upon this Last Pope
In Rome the papal chair is washed, every five year at the furthest, with this oil of aconitum. I pray God, the King of Spain feasted not our holy father Sextus,169 that was last, with such conserve of henbane; for it was credibly reported he loved him not, and this that is now, is a god made with his own hands; as it may appear by the pasquil170 that was set up of him, in manner of a note, presently after his election, Sol, Re, Me, Fa, that is to say, Solus Rex me facit; ‘only the King of Spain made me Pope.’ I am no chronicler of our own country, but if probable suspicion might be heard upon his oath I think some men’s souls would not be canonized for martyrs, that on the earth did sway it as monarchs.*
Is it your will and pleasure, noble Lantsgrave of Limbo, to let us have less carousing to your health in poison, fewer underhand conspirings, or open quarrels executed only in words, as they are in the world nowadays: and if men will needs carouse, conspire, and quarrel, that they may make Ruffians’ Hall171 of hell, and there bandy balls of brimstone at one another’s head, and not trouble our peacable paradise with their private hurly-burlies about strumpets; where no weapon, as in Adam’s Paradise, should be named, but only the angel of Providence stand with a fiery sword at the gate, to keep out our enemies.
The Complaint of Wrath, a Branch of Envy
A perturbation of mind, like unto Envy, is Wrath, which looketh far lower than the former. For, whereas Envy cannot be said to be but in respect of our superiors, Wrath respecteth no degrees nor persons, but is equally armed against all that offend him. A hare-brained little dwarf* it is, with a swarth visage, that hath his heart at his tongue’s end, if he be contraried, and will be sure to do no right nor take no wrong. If he be a judge or a justice (as sometimes the lion comes to give sentence against the lamb) then he swears by nothing but Saint Tyburn, and makes Newgate a noun substantive, whereto all his other works are but adjectives.† Lightly172 he is an old man, for those years are most wayward and teatish,173 yet be he never so old or so forward, since Avarice likewise is a fellow vice of those frail years, we must set one extreme to strive with another and allay the anger of oppression by the sweet incense of a new purse of angels, or the doting planet may have such predominance in these wicked elders of Israel, that, if you send your wife or some other female to plead for you, she may get your pardon upon promise of better acquaintance. But whist, these are the works of darkness and may not be talked of in the day-time. Fury is a heat or fire, and must be quenched with maid’s water.
A Tale of a Wise Justice
Amongst other choleric wise justices, he was one, that having a play presented before him and his township by Tarlton and the rest of his fellows, Her Majesty’s Servants, and they were now entering into their first merriment, as they call it, the people began exceedingly to laugh when Tarlton174 first peeped out his head. Whereat the Justice, not a little moved, and seeing with his becks and nods he could not make them cease, he went with his staff and beat them round about unmercifully on the bare pates, in that they, being but farmers and poor country hinds, would presume to laugh at the Queen’s Men, and make no more account of her cloth in his presence.
The Nature of the Irishman
The causes conducting unto wrath are as diverse as the actions of a man’s life. Some will take on like a madman if they see a pig come to the table. Sotericus,175 the surgeon, was choleric at t
he sight of sturgeon. The Irishman will draw his dagger, and be ready to kill and slay, if one break wind in his company; and so some of our Englishmen that are soldiers, if one give them the lie. But these are light matters, whereof Pierce complaineth not.
Be advertised, Master Os fœtidum176 beadle of the blacksmiths, that lawyers cannot devise which way in the world to beg, they are so troubled with brabblements and suits every term of yeomen and gentlemen that fall out for nothing. If John a Nokes177 his hen do but leap into Elizabeth de Gappe’s close, she will never leave to haunt her husband till he bring it to a Nisi prius.178 One while, the parson sueth the parishioner for bringing home his tithes; another while, the parishioner sueth the parson for not taking away his tithes in time.
A Merry Tale of a Butcher and his Calves
I heard a tale of a butcher, who driving two calves over a common, that were coupled together by the necks with an oaken withe, in the way where they should pass, there lay a poor, lean mare, with a galled back; to whom they coming, as chance fell out, one of one side, and the other of the other, smelling on her, as their manner is, the midst of the withe, that was betwixt their necks, rubbed her and grated her on the sore back, that she started and rose up, and hung them both on her back as a beam; which being but a rough plaster to her raw ulcer, she ran away with them, as she were frantic, into the fens, where the butcher could not follow them, and drowned both herself and them in a quagmire. Now the owner of the mare is in law with the butcher for the loss of his mare, and the butcher interchangeably indites him for his calves. I pray ye, Timothy Tempter, be an arbitrator betwixt them, and couple them both by the necks, as the calves were, and carry them to hell on your back, and then, I hope, they will be quiet
