Pirates Are Coming

If Sackville, all that have the power to do Great and good turns, as well could time them too, And knew their how, and where: we should have, then Less list of proud, hard, or ingrateful men. For benefits are owed with the same mind As they are come, and such returns they find: You then whose will not only, but desire To succour my necessities take fire, Not at my prayers, but your sense; which laid The way to meet, what others would upbraid; And in the act did so my blush prevent, As I did feel it done, as soon as meant: You cannot doubt, but I who freely know This good from you, as freely will it owe; And though my fortune humble me, to take The smallest courtesies with thanks, I make Yet choice from whom I take them; and would shame To have such do me good, I durst not name: They are the noblest benefits, and sink Deepest in man, of which when he doth think, The memory delights him more, from whom Than what he hath received. Gifts stink from some, They are so long in coming, and so hard; Where any deed is forced, the grace is marred. Can I owe thanks, for courtesies received Against his will that does them? That hath weaved Excuses, or delays? Or done them scant, That they have more oppressed me, than my want? Or if he did it not to succour me, But by mere chance? For interest? Or to free Himself of further trouble, or the weight Of pressure, like one taken in a strait? All this corrupts the thanks; less hath he won, That puts it in his debt-book ere it be done; Or that doth sound a trumpet, and doth call His grooms to witness; or else lets it fall In that proud manner: as a good so gained Must make me sad for what I have obtained. No! Gifts and thanks should have one cheerful face, So each, that’s done and ta’en, becomes a brace. He neither gives, or does, that doth delay A benefit: or that doth throw’t away, No more than he doth thank, that will receive Naught but in corners; and is loth to leave Least air, or print, but flies it: such men would Run from the conscience of it if they could. As I have seen some infants of the sword Well known, and practiced borrowers on their word, Give thanks by stealth, and whispering in the ear, For what they straight would to the world forswear; And speaking worst of those, from whom they went But then, fist filled, to put me off the scent. Now damn me, sir, if you shall not command My sword (‘tis but a poor sword understand) As far as any poor sword in the land; Then turning unto him is next at hand, Damns whom he damned too, is the veriest gull, Has feathers, and will serve a man to pull. Are they not worthy to be answered so, That to such natures let their full hands flow, And seek not wants to succour: but inquire Like money-brokers, after names, and hire Their bounties forth, to him that last was made, Or stands commission of the blade? Still, still, the hunters of false fame apply Their thoughts and means to making loud the cry; But one is bitten by the dog he fed, And hurt seeks cure; the surgeon bids take the bread, And sponge-like with it dry up the blood quite: Then give it to the hound that did him bite; All the town curs take each their snatch at me, O, is it so? Knows he so much? And will Feed those, at whom the table points at still? I not deny it, but to help the need Of any, is a great and generous deed: Yea, of the ungrateful; and he forth must tell Many a pound, and piece will place one well; But these men ever want: their very trade Is borrowing; that but stopped they do invade All as their prize, turn pirates here at land, Have their Bermudas, and their straits in the Strand: Man out their boats to the Temple, and not shift Now, but command,; make a tribute, what was gift; And it is paid them with a trembling zeal, And superstition I dare scarce reveal If it were clear, but being so in a cloud Carried and wrapped, I only am allowed My wonder why the taking a clown’s purse, Or robbing the poor market folks should nurse Such a religious horror in the breasts Of our town gallantry! Or why there rests Such worship due to kicking of a punk! Or swaggering with the watch, or drawer drunk; Or feats of darkness acted in mid-sun, And told of with more license than they were done! Sure there is mystery in it, I not know, That men such reverence to such actions show! And most deify their authors! Make Loud sacrifice of drink, for their health’ sake Rear-suppers in their names! And spend whole nights Unto their praise, in certain swearing rites; Cannot a man be reckoned in the state Of valour, but at this idolatrous rate? I thought that fortitude had been a mean ‘Twixt fear and rashness: not a lust obscene, Or appetite of offending, but a skill, Or science of discerning good from ill. And you, sir, know it well to whom I write, That with these mixtures we put out her light, Her ends are honesty, and public good! And where they want, she is not understood. No more are these of us, let them then know, I have the list of mine own faults to know, Look to and cure; he’s not a man hath none, But like to be, that every day mends one, And feels it; else he tarries by the beast. Can I discern how shadows are decreased, Or grown, by height or lowness of the sun? And can I less of substance? When I run, Ride, sail, am coached, know I how far I have gone, And my mind’s motion not? Or have I none? No! He must feel and know, that will advance. Men have been great, but never good by chance, Or on the sudden. It were strange that he Who was this morning such a one, should be Sidney ere night! Or that did go to bed Coriat, should rise most sufficient head Of Christendom! And neither of these know Were the rack offered them how they came so; ‘Tis by degrees that men arrive at glad Profit in aught; each day some little add, In time ‘twill be a heap; this is not true Alone in money, but in manners too. Yet we must more than move still, ot go on, We must accomplish; ‘tis the last key-stone That makes the arch. The rest that there were put Are nothing till that comes to bind and shut. Then stands it a Triumphal mark! Then men Observe the strength, the height, the why, and when, It was erected; and still walking under Meet some new matter to look up and wonder! Such notes are virtuous men! They live as fast As they are high; are rooted and will last. They need no stilts, nor rise upon their toes, As if they would belie their stature; those Are dwarfs of honor, and have neither weight Nor fashion; if they chance aspire to height, ‘Tis like light canes, they first rise big and brave, Shoot forth in smooth and comely spaces; have But few and fair divisions: but being got Aloft, grow less and straitened; full of knot; Their difference, cannot choose which you will be. You know (without my flattering you) too much For me to be your indice. Keep you such, That I may love your person (as I do) Without your gift, though I can rate that too, By thanking thus the courtesy to life, May grow so great to be example, when (As their true rule or lesson) either men Donors or donees to their practice shall Find you reckon nothing, me owe all.