RYTHMES AGAINST MARTIN MARRE-PRELATE.[424]
Ordo Sacerdotum fatuo turbatur ab omni,
Labitur et passim Religionis honos.
Since Reason, Martin, cannot stay thy pen,
We ’il see what rime will do; have at thee then!
A Dizard late skipt out upon our stage,
But in a sacke, that no man might him see;
And though we know not yet the paltrie page,
Himselfe hath Martin made his name to bee.
A proper name, and for his feates most fit;
The only thing wherein he hath shew’d wit.
Who knoweth not, that Apes, men Martins call,[425]
Which beast, this baggage seemes as ’t were himselfe:
So as both nature, nurture, name, and all,
Of that’s expressed in this apish elfe.
Which Ile make good to Martin Marre-als face,
In three plaine poynts, and will not bate an ace.
For, first, the Ape delights with moppes and mowes,
And mocketh Prince and Peasants all alike;
This jesting Jacke, that no good manners knowes,
With his Asse-heeles presumes all states to strike.
Whose scoffes so stinking in each nose doth smell,
As all mouthes saie of Dolts he beares the bell.
Sometimes his chappes do walke in poynts too high,
Wherein the Ape himself a Woodcock tries.
Sometimes with floutes he drawes his mouth awrie,
And sweares by his ten bones, and falselie lies.
Wherefore be he what he will I do not passe;
He is the paltriest Ape that euer was.
Such fleering, leering, jeering fooles bopeepe,
Such hahas! teehees! weehees! wild colts play; 525
Such Sohoes! whoopes and hallowes; hold and keepe;
Such rangings, ragings, reuelings, roysters ray;
With so foule mouth, and knaue at euery catch,
’Tis some knaue’s nest did surely Martin hatch.
Now out he runnes with Cuckowe king of May,
Then in he leapes with a wild Morrice daunce;
Then strikes he up Dame Lawson’s[426] lustie lay;
Then comes Sir Jeffrie’s ale-tub, tapp’d by chaunce,
Which makes me gesse, and I can shrewdly smell,
He loues both t’ one and t’other passing well.
Then straight, as though he were distracted quite,
He chafeth like a cut-purse layde in warde;
And rudely railes with all his maine and might,
Against both knights and lords without regard:
So as Bridewell must tame his dronken fits,
And Bedlem help to bring him to his wits.
But, Martin, why, in matters of such weight,
Dost thou thus play the dawe, and dauncing foole?
O sir (quoth he) this is a pleasant baite
For men of sorts, to traine them to my schoole.
Ye noble states, how can you like hereof,
A shamelesse Ape at your sage head should scoffe?
Good Noddie, now leaue scribbling in such matters;
They are no tooles for fooles to tend unto;
Wise men regard not what mad monkies patters!
’Twere trim a beast should teach men what to do.
Now Tarleton’s dead, the consort lackes a Vice.
For knaue and foole thou maist bear prick and price.
The sacred sect, and perfect pure precise,
Whose cause must be by Scoggin’s jests mainteinde,
Ye shewe, although that Purple, Apes disguise,
Yet Apes are still, and so must be, disdainde.
For though your Lyons lookes weake eyes escapes,
Your babling bookes bewraies you all for Apes.
526
The next point is, Apes use to tosse and teare
What once their fidling fingers fasten on;
And clime aloft, and cast downe euery where,
And neuer staie till all that stands be gon!
Now whether this in Martin be not true,
You wiser heads marke here what doth ensue.
What is it not that Martin doth not rent?
Cappes, tippets, gownes, black chiuers, rotchets white;
Communion bookes, and homelies: yea, so bent
To teare, as women’s wimples feele his spite.
Thus tearing all, as all apes use to doo,
He teares withall the Church of Christ in two.
Marke now what thinges he meanes to tumble downe,
For to this poynt to look is worth the while,
In one that makes no choice ’twixt cap and crowne,
Cathedral churches he would fain untile,
And snatch up bishops’ lands, and catch away
All gaine of learning for his prouling pray.
And thinke you not he will pull downe at length
As well the top from tower as cocke from steeple;
And when his head hath gotten some more strength,
To play with Prince as now he doth with People:
Yes, he that now saith, Why should Bishops bee?
Will next crie out, Why Kings? The Saincts are free!
The Germaine boores with Clergiemen began,
But neuer left till Prince and Peeres were dead.
Jacke Leyden was a holy zealous man,
But ceast not till the Crowne was on his head.
And Martin’s mate, Jacke Strawe, would alwaies ring,
The Clergie’s faults, but sought to kill the King.
“Oh that,” quoth Martin, “chwere a Nobleman!”[427]
Avaunt, vile villain! ’tis not for such swads.
And of the Counsell, too: marke Princes then:
These roomes are raught at by these lustie lads.
For Apes must climbe, and neuer stay their wit,
Untill on top of highest hilles they sit.
What meane they els, in euery towne to craue
Their Priest and King like Christ himself to be:
And for one Pope ten thousand Popes to have,
And to controll the highest he or she?
Aske Scotland that, whose King so long they crost,
As he was like his kingdome to haue lost.
Beware ye States and Nobles of this lande,
The Clergie is but one of these men’s buttes.
The Ape at last on master’s necke will stande:
Then gegge betimes these gaping greedie gutts. 527
Least that too soone, and then too late ye feele,
He strikes at head that first began with heele.
The third tricke is, what Apes by flattering waies
Cannot come by with biting, they will snatch;
Our Martin makes no bones, but plainely saies,
Their fists shall walke, they will both bite and scratch.
He’ll make their hearts to ake, and will not faile,
Where pen cannot, their penknife shall prevail.[428]
But this is false, he saith he did but mock:
A foole he was, that so his words did scanne.
He only meant with pen their pates to knocke;
A knaue he is, that so turns cat in pan.
But, Martin, sweare and stare as deepe as hell,
Thy sprite, thy spite and mischeuous minde doth tell.
The thing that neither Pope with booke nor bull,
Nor Spanish King with ships could doe without,
Our Martins heere at home will worke at full:
If Prince curbe not betimes that rabble rout.
That is, destroy both Church and State and all;
For if t’ one faile, the other needes must fall.
Thou England, then, whom God doth make so glad
Through Gospel’s grace and Prince’s prudent reigne,
Take heede lest thou at last be made as sad,
Through Martin’s makebates marring, to thy paine.
For he marrs all and maketh nought, nor will,
Saue lies and strife, and works for England’s ill.
And ye graue men that answere Martin’s mowes,
He mocks the more, and you in vain loose times.
Leaue Apes to Doggs to baite, their skins to Crowes,
And let old Lanam[429] lashe him with his rimes.
The beast is proud when men read his enditings;
Let his workes goe the waie of all wast writings.
Now, Martin, you that say you will spawne out
Your brawling brattes, in euery towne to dwell,
We will provide in each place for your route,
A bell and whippe that Apes do loue so well.
And if yo skippe, and will not wey the checke,
We ’il haue a springe, and catche you by the necke.
528
And so adieu, mad Martin-mar-the-land
Leaue off thy worke, and “more work”[430] hearest thou me
Thy work’s nought worth, take better worke in hand.
Thou marr’st thy worke, and thy work will marre thee.
Worke not anewe, least it doth work thy wracke,
And then make worke for him that worke doth lacke.
And this I warn thee, Martin Monckies-face,
Take heed of me; my rime doth charm thee bad.
I am a rimer of the Irish race,
And haue alreadie rimde thee staring mad.
But if thou cease not thy bald jests to spread,
I’le never leave till I have rimde thee dead.

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LITERARY QUARRELS

FROM
PERSONAL MOTIVES

Anecdote of a Bishop and a Doctor—Dr. Middleton and Dr. Bentley—Warburton and Dr. Taylor—Warburton and Edwards—Swift and Dryden—Pope and Bentley—why fiction is necessary for satire, according to Lord Rochester’s confession—Rowe and Addison—Pope and Atterbury—Sir John Hawkins and George Steevens—a fierce controversial author a dangerous neighbour—a ludicrous instance of a literary quarrel from personal motives between Bohun and the Wykehamists.

Literary Quarrels have abundantly sprung from mere personal motives; and controversies purely literary, sometimes of magnitude, have broken out, and been voluminously carried on, till the public are themselves involved in the contest, while the true origin lies concealed in some sudden squabble; some neglect of petty civility; some unlucky epithet; or some casual observation dropped without much consideration, which mortified or enraged the author. How greatly has passion prevailed in literary history! How often the most glorious pages in the chronicles of literature are tainted with the secret history which must be placed by their side, so that the origin of many considerable works, which do so much honour to the heads of their authors, sadly accuse their hearts. But the heaven of Virgil was disturbed with quarrels—

Tantæne animis cœlestibus iræ?
Æneid.
Can heavenly minds such high resentment show?
Dryden.

And has not a profound observer of human affairs declared, Ex privatis odiis respublica crescit? individual hatreds aggrandize the republic. This miserable philosophy will satisfy those who are content, from private vices, to derive public benefits. One wishes for a purer morality, and a more noble inspiration.