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| SATYRES. |
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| Satyr I. |
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| Away thou changeling motley humorist, |
| Leave me, and in this standing wooden chest, |
| Consorted with these few books, let me lye |
| In prison, and here be coffin'd, when I dye. |
| Here are Gods Conduits, grave Divines; and here |
| Is Natures Secretary, the Phylosopher: |
| And wily Statesmen, which teach how to tie |
| The sinews of a Cities Mystick body; |
| Here gathering Chroniclers, and by them stand |
| Giddy fantastique Poets of each land. |
| Shall I leave all this constant company, |
| And follow headlong wild uncertain thee? |
| First, swear by thy best love here, in earnest |
| (If thou which lov'st all, canst love any best) |
| Thou wilt not leave me in the middle street, |
| Though some more spruce companion thou dost meet, |
| Nor though a Captain do come in thy way |
| Bright parcell guilt, with forty dead mens pay: |
| Not though a brisk perfum'd pert Courtier |
| Deign with a nod, thy curtesie to answer: |
| Nor come a Velvet Justice with a long |
| Great train of blew-coats, twelve or fourteen strong, |
| Wilt thou grin or fawn on him, or prepare |
| A speech to court his beauteous son and heir? |
| For better or worse take me, or leave me: |
| To take, and leave me is adultery.
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[CW: Oh] |