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The bounds of loyalty are made of glass,
Soon broke, but can in no date be repair’d.
Chapman's First Part of Byron's Conspiracy.
To wear your loyal habit itill,
When it is out of fashion, and hath done
Service enough, were rustick misery :
The habit of a servile loyalty,
Is reckon'd now amongit privations ;
With blindness, dumbness, deafness, filence, death:
All which, are neither natures by themselves,
Nor substances, but mere decays of form,
And absolute deceflions of nature,
And nothing else.
Ibid, Think you it not as strong a point of faith, To rectify your loyalties to me, As to be truly in each others wrong? Trult that deceives our selves is treachery, And truth that truth conceals, an open lye.
Chapman's Second Part of Byron's Conspiracy God gives to kings the honour to command ;
To subjects all their glory to obey :
Who ought in time of war, as rampiers fand ;
In peace, as ornaments of state array.
On foreign foes,
We are our own revengers ; but at home,
On princes that are eminent, and ours,
Tis fit the gods should judge us.
Beaumont and Fletcher's Valentinian,
We're but shadows, motions others give us ;
And though our pities may become the times,
Justly our pow’rs cannot: Make me worthy
To be your friend ever in fair allegiance,
But not in force : for durst mine own soul urge me,
And by that foul, I speak my juft affections,
To turn my hand from truth, which is obedience,
And give the helm my virtue holds, to anger ;
Though I had both the blessings of the Bruti,
And both their instigations ; though my cause
Carry'd a face of justice beyond theirs ;
And as I am a servant to my fortunes,
That daring soul, that first taught disobedience,
Should feel the first example. Say the prince,
As I may well believe it, seems vicious ;
Who justly knows, tis not to try our honours ?
Or say he be an ill prince ; are we therefore
Fit fires to purge him? no, my dearest friend ;
The elephant is never won with anger,
Nor must that man that would reclaim a lion,
Take him by the teeth.
Beaumont and Fletcher's Valentinian:
No more, my worthy friend ; though these be truths,
And though these truths would ask a reformation, ,
At least a little squaring : yet remember, ·
We are but subjects, Maximus ; obedience...
To what is done, and grief for what is ill done, -
Is all we can call ours. The hearts of princes
Are like the temples of the gods; pure incense,
Untill unhallow'd hands defile those oft'rings,
Burns ever there ; we must not put them out,
Because the priests that touch those sweets are wicked.'
Ibid.' Allegiance Tempted too far, is like the trial of A good sword on an anvil : as that often Flies in pieces without service to the owner ; So trust enforc'd too far, proves treachery, And is too late repented.
Mafinger's Great Duke of Florence. -Love with bounty levied, Is a sure guard ; obedience forc'd from fear, Paper fortification : which in danger K5
Will yield to the impression of a reed,
Or of it self fall off.
Mafinger's Emperor of the East.
--- You are guarded
With such a general loyalty in subjects,
That if you slept among the multitude,
Even when some rage possess'd them, andefended
With any arms, but that, th' imperfect slumber
Need not to be broken with a fear.
Nabbs's Unfortunate Mother. Allegiance in me, like the string of a watch, Wound up too high, and forc'd above the nick, Run back, and in a moment was unravell'd all.
I. U XURY.
We will eat such at a meal:
The heads of parrots, tongues of nightingales,
The brains of peacocks and of estriches
Shall be our food ; and could we get the phænix,
Though nature lost her kind, she were our dish.
I will have all my beds blown up, not stuft ;
Down is too hard : and then, mine oval room
Fill’d with such pictures as Tiberius took
From Elephantis, and dull Aretine,
But coldly imitated. Then, my glasses,
Cut in more subtle angles, to disperse
And multiply the figures, as I walk
Naked between my Succubæ ; my mists
I'll have of perfume, vapour'd 'bout the room,
To lose our felves in ; and my baths, like pits
To fall into ; from whence we will come forth,
And rowl us dry in gostamore and roses :
And my flatterers
Shall be the pure, and graves of divines,
That I can get for money. My meet fools,
Eloquent burgefles; and then my poet
The same that writ so subtily of the fart :
Whom I will entertain still for that subject. The
The few that would give out themselves, to be
Court and town stallions, and each where bely
Ladies, who are known molt innocent; for them,
Those will I beg, to make me eunuchs of :
And they shall fan me with ten eftrich tails
A piece, made in a plume, to gather wind,
My mear fhall all come in in Indian shells,
Dishes of agat set in gold, and studded
With em'ralds, saphirs, hyacinths, and rubies :
With tongues of carps, dormice, and camels heels,
Boil'd i' the spirit of fol, and dissolv'd pearl ;
Apicius' diet 'gainst the epilepsy :
And I will eat these broths with spoons of amber,
Headed with diamond, and carbuncle.
My foot-boy fhall eat pheasants, calver'd salmons,
Knots, godwits, lampreys : I my self will have
The beards of barbels ferv'd instead of fallads ;
Oild mushrooms ; and the swelling unctuous paps
Of a fat pregnant fow, newly cut off,
Dreft with an exquisite and poignant sauce ;
For which, I'll say unto my cook, there's gold;
Go forth, and be a knight. My shirts
I'll have of taffata farsnet, soft and light
As cob-webs; and for all my other raiment,
It shall be such as might provoke the Persian
Were he to teach the world riot anew.
My gloves of fishes, and birds skins, perfum'a
With gums of paradise, and eastern air.
We'll therefore go withal, and live
In a free state, where we will eat our mullets,
Sous'd in high country wines ; sup pheasants eggs,
And have our cockles, boil'd in silver shells ;
Our shrimps to swim again, as when they livido
In a rare butter made of dolphins milk,
Whose cream does look like opals: and with these
Delicate meats fet our felves high for pleasure,
And take us down again; and then renew
Our youth and strength with drinking th' Elixir ;
And so enjoy a perpetuity
Of life and lust.
Who yieldeth unto pleasures and to lust,
Is a poor captive, that in golden fetters,
And pretious as he thinks, but holding gyves,
Frets out his life.
Beaumont and Fletcher's Knight of Malta. Men may talk of conntry chriftmasses, and Court gluttony ; their thirty pound butter'd eggs ; Their pies of carps tongues, their pheasants drench'd
with Ambergreese, the carcaffes of three fat Weathers bruis'd for gravy to make sauce for A single peacock; yet their feasts were fafts Compard with the city's. There were three fucking pigs serv’d up in a dish, Took from the low as soon as farrowed, A fortnight fed with dates, and muscadine ; That stood my master in twenty marks a piece, Befides the puddings in their bellies made Of I know not what: But here's the mischief, though The dishes were rais'd one on another, As woodmongers do billets, for the first, The second, and third course ; and most of the shops Of the best confectioners in London, ransack'd To furnish out a banquet ; yet my lady Call’d me penurious rascal ; and cry'd out There was nothing worth the eating.
Maflinger's City Madam. Gather all the flowers Tempe is painted with, and strew his way : Translate
my bow'rs to Turia's rosy banks, There, with a chorus of sweet nightingales Make it continual spring : If the fun's rays Offend his tender skin, and make it sweat, Fan him with filken wings of mildest air,