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Was then no 'plaining of the brewer's scape,
Nor greedie vintner mix'd the strained grape.
The king's pavilion was the grassie green,
Vnder safe shelter of the shadie treen.-
But when, by Ceres' huswifrie and paine,
Men learn'd to burie the reuiuing graine,
And father Janus taught the new-found vine
Rise on the elme, with manie a friendly twine:
And base desire bade men to deluen lowe
For needlesse metalls, then gan mischief growe:
Then farewell, fayrest age! &c.-

He then, in the prosecution of a sort of poetical philosophy, which prefers civilized to savage life, wishes for the nakedness or the furs of our simple ancestors, in comparison of the fantastic fopperies of the exotic apparel of his own age.

They, naked went, or clad in ruder hide,
Or homespun russet void of foraine pride.
But thou canst maske in garish gawderie,
To suite a Fool's far-fetched liuerie.

A Frenche head joyn'd to necke Italian,

Thy thighs from Germanie, and breast from Spain;
An Englishman in none, a foole in all,

Many in one, and one in seuerall.

One of the vanities of the age of Elizabeth was the erection of monuments, equally costly and cumbersome, charged with a waste of capricious decorations, and loaded with superfluous and disproportionate sculpture. They succeeded to the rich solemnity of the gothic shrine, which yet, amid a profusion of embellishments, preserved uniform principles of architecture.

In the second satire, our author moralises on these empty memorials, which were alike allotted to illustrious or infamous characters.

Some stately tombe he builds, Egyptian-wise,
REX REGUM written on the pyramis:

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Whereas great Arthur lies in ruder oke,
That neuer felt none but the feller's stroke,
Small honour can be got with gaudie graue,
Nor it thy rotten name from death can saue.
The fairer tombe, the fowler is thy name,
The greater pompe procvring greater shame.
Thy monument make thou thy living deeds,
No other tomb than that true virtue needs!
What, had he nought whereby he might be knowne,
But costly pilements of some curious stone?
The matter nature's, and the workman's frame
His purse's cost:-where then is Osmond's name?
Deservedst thou ill? Well were thy name and thee,
Wert thou inditched in great secrecie;

Whereas no passengers might curse thy dust, &c.d

The third is the description of a citizen's feast, to which he was invited,


With hollow words, and ouerly request.

But the great profusion of the entertainment was not the effect of liberality, but a hint that no second invitation must be expected. The effort was too great to be repeated. The guest who dined at this table often, had only a single dish.

The fourth is an arraignment of ostentatious piety, and of those who strove to push themselves into notice and esteem by petty pretensions. The illustrations are highly humorous.

Who euer giues a paire of velvet shoes
To th' holy rood, or liberally allowes

He alludes to the discovery of king Arthur's body in Glastonbury abbey. Lately, in digging up a barrow, or tumulus, on the downs near Dorchester, the body of a Danish chief, as it seemed, was found in the hollow trunk of a huge oak for a coffin. d'B. iii. 2. f. 50.


slight, shallow.

f B. iii. 3. f. 52. In a gallery over the screen, at en

tering the choir, was a large crucifix, or rood, with the images of the holy Virgin and saint John. The velvet shoes were for the feet of Christ on the cross, or of one of the attendant figures. A rich lady sometimes bequeathed her weddinggown, with necklace and ear-rings, to dress up the Virgin Mary. This place was called the Rood loft.

But a new rope to ring the curfew bell?
But he desires that his great deed may dwell,
Or grauen in the chancell-window glasse,
Or in the lasting tombe of plated brasse.
The same affectation appeared in dress.

Nor can good Myron weare on his left hond,
A signet ring of Bristol-diamond;

But he must cut his gloue to shew his pride,
That his trim jewel might be better spied:

And, that men might some burgesse1 him repute,
With sattin sleeves hath grac'd his sacke-cloth suit.*

The fifth is a droll portrait of the distress of a lustie courtier, or fine gentleman, whose periwinkle, or peruke, was suddenly blown off by a boisterous puff of wind while he was making his bows'.

He lights, and runs and quicklie hath him sped

To ouertake his ouer-running head, &c.

These are our satirist's reflections on this disgraceful accident.

Fie on all courtesie, and unruly windes,

Two only foes that faire disguisement findes !
Strange curse, but fit for such a fickle age,

When scalpes are subject to such vassalage!

Is't not sweet pride, when men their crownes must shade With that which jerkes the hams of everie jade! m

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dignity or levity in dress! There is an
epigram in Harrington, written perhaps
about 1600,"Of Galla's goodly peri-
wigge." B. i. 66. This was undoubt-
edly false hair. In Hayman's QUODLI-
BETS or Epigrams, printed 1628, there
is one "to a Periwiggian.'
" B. i. 65.
p. 10. Again, "to a certaine Periwig-
gian." B. ii. 9. p. 21. Our author men-
tions a periwigg again, B. v. 2. f. 63.

A golden periwigg on a blackmoor's

m B. iii. 5. f. 57.

In the next is the figure of a famished Gallant, or beau, which is much better drawn than in any of the comedies of those times. His hand is perpetually on the hilt of his rapier. He picks his teeth, but has dined with duke Humphry". He professes to keep a plentiful and open house for every straggling cavaliere, where the dinners are long and enlivened with music, and where many a gay youth, with a high-plumed hat, chooses to dine, much rather than to pay his shilling. He is so emaciated for want of eating, that his sword-belt hangs loose over his hip, the effect of hunger and heavy iron. Yet he is dressed in the height of the fashion,

All trapped in the new-found brauerie.

He pretends to have been at the conquest of Cales, where the nuns worked his bonnet. His hair stands upright in the French style, with one long lock hanging low on his shoulders, which, the satirist adds, puts us in mind of a native cord, the truely English rope which he probably will one day wear.

His linen collar labyrinthian set,

Whose thovsand double turnings neuer met:
His sleeves half-hid with elbow-pinionings,
As if he meant to fly with linen wings°.
But when I looke, and cast mine eyes below,
What monster meets mine eyes in human show?

"That is, he has walked all day in
saint Paul's church without a dinner.
In the body of old saint Paul's, was a
huge and conspicuous monument of sir
John Beauchamp, buried in 1358, son
of Guy and brother of Thomas, earls of
Warwick. This, by a vulgar mistake,
was at length called the tomb of Hum-
phry duke of Gloucester, who was really
buried at St. Alban's, where his magni-
ficent shrine now remains. The middle
ile of Saint Paul's is called the Dukes
gallery, in a chapter of the GULS HORNE
BOOKE, "How a gallant should behaue
himself in Powles Walkes." CH. iiii.
p. 17.
Of the humours of this famous
ambulatory, the general rendezvous of
lawyers and their clients, pickpockets,
cheats, bucks, pimps, whores, poets,

players, and many others who either for idleness or business found it convenient to frequent the most fashionable crowd in London, a more particular description may be seen, in Dekker's "DEAD TERME, or Westminsters Complaint for long Vacations and short Termes, under the chapter, Pawles Steeples complaint." SIGNAT. D. 3. Lond. for John Hodgetts, 1608. 4to. Bl. lett.

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Barnaby Rich in his IRISH HUBBUB, printed 1617, thus describes four GALLANTS Coming from an Ordinary. "The third was in a yellow-starched band, that made him looke as if he had been troubled with the yellow iaundis.They were all four in white bootes and gylt spurres," &c. Lond. 1617. 4to. p. 36.

So slender waist, with such an abbot's loyne,
Did neuer sober nature sure conjoyne!

Lik'st a strawe scare-crow in the new-sowne field,
Rear'd on some sticke the tender corne to shield.”

In the Prologue to this book, our author strives to obviate the objections of certain critics who falsely and foolishly thought his satires too perspicuous. Nothing could be more absurd, than the notion, that because Persius is obscure, therefore obscurity must be necessarily one of the qualities of satire. If Persius, under the severities of a proscriptive and sanguinary government, was often obliged to conceal his meaning, this was not the case of Hall. But the darkness and difficulties of Persius arise in great measure from his own affectation and false taste. He would have been enigmatical under the mildest government. To be unintelligible can never naturally or properly belong to any species of writing. Hall of himself is certainly obscure: yet he owes some of his obscurity to an imitation of this ideal excellence of the Roman satirists.

The fourth Book breathes a stronger spirit of indignation, and abounds with applications of Juvenal to modern manners, yet with the appearance of original and unborrowed satire.

The first is miscellaneous and excursive, but the subjects often lead to an unbecoming licentiousness of language and images. In the following nervous lines, he has caught and finely heightened the force and manner of his master.

Who list, excuse, when chaster dames can hire
Some snout-fair stripling to their apple squire",
Whom staked vp, like to some stallion steed,
They keep with eggs and oysters for the breed.

B. iii. 7. f. 62.

9 Some fair-faced stripling to be their page. Marston has this epithet, Sc. VILLAN. B. i, 3.

Had I some snout-faire brats, they should indure

The newly-found Castilion calenture,

Before some pedant, &c.


In Satires and Epigrams, called THE LETTING OF HUMORS BLOOD IN HEAD-VAYNE, 1600, we have "Some pippin-squire." Epigr. 33.

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