Satire V
Thou shalt not laugh in this leafe, Muse, nor they
Whom any pity warmes; He which did lay
Rules to make Courtiers, (hee being understood
May make good Courtiers, but who Courtiers good?)
Frees from the sting of jests all who'in extreme
Are wrech'd or wicked: of these two a theame
Charity and liberty give me. What is hee
Who Officers rage, and Suiters misery
Can write, and jest? If all things be in all,
As I thinke, since all, which were, are, and shall
Bee, be made of the same elements:
Each thing, each thing implyes or represents.
Then man is a world; in which, Officers
Are the vast ravishing seas; and Suiters,
Springs; now full, now shallow, now drye; which, to
That which drownes them, run: These selfe reasons do
Prove the world a man, in which, officers
Are the devouring stomacke, and Suiters
Th'excrements, which they voyd. All men are dust;
How much worse are Suiters, who to mens lust
Are made preyes? O worse then dust, or wormes meat,
For they do'eate you now, whose selves wormes shall eate.
They are the mills which grinde you, yet you are
The winde which drives them; and a wastfull warre
Is fought against you, and you fight it; they
Adulterate lawe, and you prepare their way
Like wittals; th'issue your owne ruine is.
Greatest and fairest Empresse, know you this?
Alas, no more then Thames calme head doth know
Whose meades her armes drowne, or whose corne o'rflow:
You Sir, whose righteousnes she loves, whom I
By having leave to serve, am most richly
For service paid, authoriz'd, now beginne
To know and weed out this enormous sinne.
O Age of rusty iron! some better wit
Call it some worse name, if ought equall it;
Th'iron Age _that_ was, when justice was sold; now
Injustice is sold dearer farre. Allow
All demands, fees, and duties; gamsters, anon
The mony which you sweat, and sweare for, is gon
Into'other hands: So controverted lands
Scape, like Angelica, the strivers hands.
If Law be in the Judges heart, and hee
Have no heart to resist letter, or fee,
Where wilt thou'appeale? Powre of the Courts below
Flow from the first maine head, and these can throw
Thee, if they sucke thee in, to misery,
To fetters, halters; But if th'injury
Steele thee to dare complaine, Alas, thou go'st
Against the stream, when upwards: when thou'art most
Heavy'and most faint; and in these labours they,
'Gainst whom thou should'st complaine, will in the way
Become great seas, o'r which, when thou shalt bee
Forc'd to make golden bridges, thou shalt see
That all thy gold was drown'd in them before;
All things follow their like, only who have may'have more.
Judges are Gods; he who made and said them so,
Meant not that men should be forc'd to them to goe,
By meanes of Angels; When supplications
We send to God, to Dominations,
Powers, Cherubins, and all heavens Courts, if wee
Should pay fees as here, daily bread would be
Scarce to Kings; so 'tis. Would it not anger
A Stoicke, a coward, yea a Martyr,
To see a Pursivant come in, and call
All his cloathes, Copes; Bookes, Primers; and all
His Plate, Challices; and mistake them away,
And aske a fee for comming? Oh, ne'r may
Faire lawes white reverend name be strumpeted,
To warrant thefts: she is established
Recorder to Destiny, on earth, and shee
Speakes Fates words, and but tells us who must bee
Rich, who poore, who in chaires, who in jayles:
Shee is all faire, but yet hath foule long nailes,
With which she scracheth Suiters; In bodies
Of men, so'in law, nailes are th'extremities,
So Officers stretch to more then Law can doe,
As our nailes reach what no else part comes to.
Why bar'st thou to yon Officer? Foole, Hath hee
Got those goods, for which erst men bar'd to thee?
Foole, twice, thrice, thou'hast bought wrong,'and now hungerly
Beg'st right; But that dole comes not till these dye.
Thou'had'st much, and lawes Urim and Thummim trie
Thou wouldst for more; and for all hast paper
Enough to cloath all the great Carricks Pepper.
Sell that, and by that thou much more shalt leese,
Then Haman, when he sold his Antiquities.
poem by John Donne
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Ch 03 On The Excellence Of Contentment Story 20
A king with some of his courtiers had during a hunting party and in the winter season strayed far from inhabited places but when the night set in he perceived the house of a dehqan and said: ‘We shall spend the night there to avoid the injury of the cold.’ One of the veziers, however, objected alleging that it was unworthy of the high dignity of a padshah to take refuge in the house of a dehqan and that it would be best to pitch tents and to light fires on the spot. The dehqan who had become aware of what was taking place prepared some food he had ready in his house, offered it, kissed the ground of service and said: ‘The high dignity of the sultan would not have been so much lowered, but the courtiers did not wish the dignity of the dehqan to become high.’ The king who was pleased with these words moved for the night into the man’s house and bestowed a dress of honour upon him the next morning. When he accompanied the king a few paces at the departure he was heard to say:
‘Nothing was lost of the sultan’s power and pomp
By accepting the hospitality of a dehqan,
But the corner of the dehqan’s cap reached the sun
When a sultan such as thou overshadowed his head.’
Caras Castle
If you ever come to our town
On a carousel crusade
And youre tired of fighting windmills with a nail
Cross the fence and join the dragons
Who have never made the grade
Caras castle and the keepers of a most unholy grail.
Oh cara, queen of the losers, ruler of the weak
Give the poet what he chooses till hes too dumb to speak
Theres a clock upon the mantle
But its hands forget the time
And the windows turn their backs upon the day
And the people in the shadows
Could be all lost friends of mine
Caras courtiers need no light c need no light to lose their way
Oh cara, queen of the losers, ruler of the weak
Give the poet what he chooses till hes too dumb to speak
From the end to the beginning
Crippled minds retrace the steps
From the burial to the birth they do retreat
Wonderin where and when and why
Their souls were slaughtered while they slept
Caras courtiers know no victory c know no victory just defeat
Oh cara, queen of the losers, ruler of the weak
Give the poet what he chooses till hes too dumb to speak
One by one the battered soldiers
Go slowly cross the moat
One by one they seek new castles somewhere else
With their crutches and the cravens
And I wonder is there hope
Is there hope for caras courtiers c and the wars against themselves
Oh cara, queen of the losers, ruler of the weak
Give the poet what he chooses till hes too dumb to speak
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Peacock.
Once Juno's Bird (as Authors say)
Was seiz'd on by some Birds of Prey:
They pluck'd his Feathers, one by one,
Till all his useful Plumes were gone;
Stript him of ev'ry thing beside;
But left his Train, to please his Pride.
Some other Birds admir'd to see,
He tamely bore such Injury;
And often on his Patience jok'd--
He cry'd--They must not be provok'd:
I'm in their Pow'r, nor shall debate,
But yield to my unhappy Fate.
Yet in this Plight would he resort,
To where the Eagle kept his Court:
For, tho' oppress'd, he still was proud
To make his Bows among the Croud.
The Eagle, gracious, saw him there;
Which envious Courtiers could not bear,
Well knowing, should he tread that Soil,
He would in time put in for Spoil.
As Tameness Injuries provokes,
In Birds, as well as mortal Folks;
The Peacock they assault again,
And strip him of his glitt'ring Train.
Enrag'd at this, he stamp'd and tore,
And quoted Precedents a Score,
That Peacocks ever were allow'd
To shew their Beauty to the Croud.
At this the haughty Courtiers sneer,
And cry, What Bus'ness have you here?
He had a Right, they plainly saw;
But let him know, That Pow'r is Law.
At length a Pheasant standing by,
Beheld him with a pitying Eye:
And said, You now begin too late
To stem the Torrent of your Fate:
Yet are you not of all bereft;
For still a fair Retreat is left:
Why will you here neglected roam,
When you might be rever'd at home?
poem by Mary Barber
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King Whiskey
King Whishey's father down in Hell,
He rubbed his hands with glee,
'My son on earth is doing well,
Extremely well,' said he;
'Pile up the logs upon the blaze
And let the furnace roar,
Another batch of Whiskey's slaves
Is hammering at the door.'
The flames shot up a brilliant red,
The grid was white with heat,
A basting pot of boiling lead
Was placed on every seat.
'Ha, ha,' said Satan, 'this is neat;
We have no cause to fear
That they'll complain they did not meet
A warm reception here.'
King Whiskey sat upon his throne,
His courtiers standing round,
All meek, subservient in tone,
They bowed them to the ground.
In tribute then they handed up
Their stores of golden wealth,
And from the reeking poison cup
They drank King Whiskey's health!
And out beyond the palace gates
The wives and mothers stand,
And, breadless, loudly curse the fates
That whiskey rules the land.
The courtiers dimly hear the cry,
But Whiskey dulls their ears,
'Fill up, let revelry run high,
We'll drown these childish fears!'
And men there are in Whiskey's land
Complaining times are bad
And money getting scarcer and
But little to be had;
And yet however bad is trade
And things however flat,
King Whiskey's tribute must be paid,
They can't go short of that!
King Whiskey's courtiers soon grow old,
And tribute's falling short,
The strength is gone, the blood is cold
The once clear mind distraught!
And demons, imps, and grinning apes.
And glaring reptiles yell,
And loathsome forms and fearsome shapes
All point the road to Hell!
But Whiskey's court is bright and gay.
Nor do the ranks grow thin,
For as the old are borne away
The younger ones come in.
King Whiskey's father down in Hell,
He rubs his hands with glee,
'My son on earth is doing well,
Extremely well,' says he.
poem by William Thomas Goodge
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Ch 04 On The Advantages Of Silence Story 06
Subhan Vail is considered to have had no equal in rhetorics because he had addressed an assembly during a year and had not repeated the same word but, when the same meaning happened to occur, he expressed it in another manner and this is one of the accomplishments of courtiers and princes.
A word if heart-binding and sweet
Is worthy of belief and of approbation.
When thou hast once said it do not utter it again
Because sweets, once partaken of, suffice.
The wicked can have only accomplices, the voluptuous have companions in debauchery, self-seekers have associates, the politic assemble the factions, the typical idler has connections, princes have courtiers. Only the virtuous have friends.
Ruins
And this was a civilization
That came to nothing--he spurned with his toe
The slave-coloured dust. We breathed it in
Thankfully, oxygen to our culture.
Somebody found a curved bone
In the ruins. A kings probably,
He said. Imperfect courtiers
We eyed it, the dropped kerchief of time.
poem by Ronald Stuart Thomas
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Lost In Love
Lost being, nearly the height of crow’s flight,
You are indignant, as if you are angry of sight.
Still beautiful, this lost meaning is gathered,
The dyes of youth becalm us afterward.
As dark as stormy weather, the soul of evil must die,
So that we station our belongings in new love and cry.
A doubt remains, however, of a heated hatred,
Is it the middle of love, or just good feeling accented?
Lost is your loving nature, lost are crown and robe,
Lulling spectators, the courtiers of the majestic globe.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Death In The Forest
August 2: 1100
Where the greenwood is greenest
At gloaming of day,
Where the twelve-antler'd stag
Faces boldest at bay;
Where the solitude deepens,
Till almost you hear
The blood-beat of the heart
As the quarry slips near;
His comrades outridden
With scorn in the race,
The Red King is hallooing
His bounds to the chase.
What though the Wild Hunt
Like a whirlwind of hell
Yestereve ran the forest,
With baying and yell:--
In his cups the Red heathen
Mocks God to the face;
--'In the devil's name, shoot;
Tyrrell, ho!--to the chase!'
--Now with worms for his courtiers
He lies in the narrow
Cold couch of the chancel!
--But whence was the arrow?
The dread vision of Serlo
That call'd him to die,
The weird sacrilege terror
Of sleep, have gone by.
The blood of young Richard
Cries on him in vain,
In the heart of the Lindwood
By arbalest slain.
And he plunges alone
In the Serpent-glade gloom,
As one whom the Furies
Hound headlong to doom.
His sin goes before him,
The lust and the pride;
And the curses of England
Breathe hot at his side.
And the desecrate walls
Of the Evil-wood shrine
Lo, he passes--unheeding
Dark vision and sign:--
--Now with worms for his courtiers
He lies in the narrow
Cold couch of the chancel:
--But whence was the arrow?
Then a shudder of death
Flicker'd fast through the wood:--
And they found the Red King
Red-gilt in his blood.
What wells up in his throat?
Is it cursing, or prayer?
Was it Henry, or Tyrrell,
Or demon, who there
Has dyed the fell tyrant
Twice crimson in gore,
While the soul disincarnate
Hunts on to hell-door?
--Ah! friendless in death!
Rude forest-hands fling
On the charcoaler's wain
What but now was the king!
And through the long Minster
The carcass they bear,
And huddle it down
Without priest, without prayer:--
Now with worms for his courtiers
He lies in the narrow
Cold couch of the chancel:
--But whence was the arrow?
poem by Francis Turner Palgrave
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Sate
'Sate, sate..... te te'
Sound builders satay at night
echoed through the halls of the capital
go on and on so every night
the walls of the houses across the street, alleys
in the capital of the kingdom
witness craft, tenacity and perseverance
peddle wares
favorite food of all citizens,
officials and the king
anticipated arrival
moreover the king's wife and family
they secretly love it
although manners forbade direct contact
with the repairman satay
'Te, te...... te goat, and cow's father.... '
Until one day the king, officials and retainer
In the vicinity of the royal palace
Angry, out skewers
Preceded by residents who are hungry
From staying up all night, patrolling
The Nayaka, the courtiers can only be silent
When the officials angry
Moreover, the royal family.
'If so, tell the repairman satay'
Only selling to serve the royal family.
Or call a palace cook
The rickshaw satay did not enter the palace
Become a palace cook
He prefers, the king occupies land
In addition to the road to the palace mosque
And do not want to be separated with customers
In this life
Most prized possessions is the fidelity
To the people who love him
Not germerlap money, rewards and praise
Of courtiers
Which at times was bored
So kick
Life can not be measured
only of desire
worldly
poem by Prasetya Utama
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Ch 01 Manner of Kings Story 34
One of the sons of Harun-ur-Rashid went to his father and angrily informed him that the son of an official had used insulting expressions towards him whereon Harun asked his courtiers what requital he deserved. One of them proposed capital punishment, another the amputation of the tongue whilst a third recommended fine and imprisonment. Then Harun said: "Oh my son, it would be generous to pardon him but, if thou art unable to do so, use likewise insulting expressions concerning his mother; not however to such a degree as to exceed the bounds of vengeance because in that case the wrong will be on thy side."
He is not reputed a man by the wise
Who contends with a furious elephant
But he is a man in reality
Who when angry speaks not idle words.
An ill-humoured fellow insulted a man
Who patiently bore it saying: "O hopeful youth,
I am worse than thou speakest of me
For I am more conscious of my faults than thou."
Ch 01 Manner of Kings Story 18
A royal prince, having inherited abundant treasures from his father, opened the hand of liberality and satisfied his impulse of generosity by lavishing without stint benefits upon the army and the population.
A tray of lignum aloes will emit no odour.
Place it on fire, it will smell like ambergris.
If thou wishest to be accounted great, be liberal
Because grain will not grow unless it be sown.
One of his courtiers began heedlessly to admonish him, saying: "Former kings have by their exertions accumulated this wealth and deposited it for a useful purpose. Cease this movement because calamities may arise in front and enemies in the rear. It is not meet for thee to be helpless at a time of necessity."
If thou distributest a treasure to the multitude
Each householder will receive a grain of rice.
Why takest thou not from each a barley-corn of silver
That thou mayest accumulate every day a treasure?
The royal prince turned away his face at these words and said: "God the most high has made me the possessor of this country, to enjoy and to bestow, not to guard and to retain."
Qarun, who possessed forty treasure houses, perished. Nushirvan has not died because he obtained a good reputation.
Escorting Candidates to the Examination Hall
At dawn I rode to escort the Doctors of Art;
In the eastern quarter the sky was still grey.
I said to myself, 'You have started far too soon,'
But horses and coaches already thronged the road.
High and low the riders' torches bobbed;
Muffled or loud, the watchman's drum beat.
Riders, when I see you prick
To your early levee, pity fills my heart.
When the sun rises and the hot dust flies
And the creatures of earth resume their great strife,
You, with your striving, what shall you each seek?
Profit and fame, for that is all your care.
But I, you courtiers, rise from my bed at noon
And live idly in the city of Ch'ang-an.
Spring is deep and my term of office spent;
Day by day my thoughts go back to the hills.
In rags mysterious as these
117
In rags mysterious as these
The shining Courtiers go—
Veiling the purple, and the plumes—
Veiling the ermine so.
Smiling, as they request an alms—
At some imposing door!
Smiling when we walk barefoot
Upon their golden floor!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Ch 01 Manner of Kings Story 15
A vezier, who had been removed from his post, entered the circle of dervishes and the blessing of their society took such effect upon him that he became contented in his mind. When the king was again favourably disposed towards him and ordered him to resume his office, he refused and said: "Retirement is better than occupation."
Those who have sat down in the corner of safety
Have bound the teeth of dogs and tongues of men.
They tore the paper up and broke the pen
And are saved from the hands and tongues of slanderers.
The king said: "Verily we stand in need of a man of sufficient intelligence who is able to carry on the administration of the government." He replied: "It is a sign of sufficient intelligence not to engage in such matters."
The homa excels all other birds in nobility
Because it feeds on bones and injures no living thing.
A donkey, having been asked for what salary he had elected to attend upon the lion, replied: "That I may consume the remnants of his prey and live in safety from my enemies by taking refuge under his bravery." Being again asked that, as he had entered into the shadow of the lion’s protection and gratefully acknowledged his beneficence, why he had not joined the circle of intimacy so as to be accounted one of his favourite servants, he replied: "I am in the same way also not safe of his bravery."
Should a Guebre kindle fire a hundred years
If he falls one moment into it he will be burnt.
It may happen that a companion of his majesty the sultan receives gold and it is possible that he loses his head. Philosophers have said that it is necessary to be on guard of the fickle temper of padshahs because sometimes they are displeased with politeness and at others they bestow robes of honour for rudeness. It is also said that much jocularity is an accomplishment in courtiers but a fault in sages.
Abide thou by thy dignity and gravity.
Leave sport and jocularity to courtiers.
To my Dear Friend M. Ben Jonson, on his Fox
If it might stand with justice to allow
The swift conversion of all follies; now,
Such is my mercy, that I could admit
All sorts should equally approve the wit
Of this thy even work, whose growing fame
Shall raise thee high, and thou it, with thy name.
And did not manners and my love command
Me to forbear to make those understand,
Whom thou, perhaps, hast in thy wiser doom
Long since firmly resolved, shall never come
To know more than they do; I would have shewn
To all the world, the art, which thou alone
Hast taught our tongue, the rules of time, of place,
And other rites, delivered, with the grace
Of comic style, which, only, is far more
Than any English stage hath known before.
But, since our subtle gallants think it good
To like of nought, that may be understood,
Lest they should he disproved; or have, at best,
Stomachs so raw, that nothing can digest
But what's obscene, or barks: let us desire
They may continue, simply, to admire
Fine clothes, and strange words; and may live, in age,
To see themselves ill brought upon the stage,
And like it: whilst thy bold and knowing muse
Contemns all praise, but such as thou wouldst choose.
poem by Francis Beaumont
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Pornification
Things are easy to laugh at
When misunderstood.
Easy to laugh at...
Until you see this does no good.
I want to command a life I can understand.
Passing judgement upon others...
Is not a taste I welcome or demand.
And I take my wishes seriously,
No matter who observes...
The kind of man I am!
Things are easy to laugh at
When misunderstood.
Easy to laugh at...
Until you see this does no good.
And throughout neighbors,
There are thugs and others...
Doped up on hope,
As if they 'should'.
And how to make a coping much better.
Far better than it is!
Until the next 'hit' fits the groove.
To make a worthlessness
Accepted and approved!
Things are easy to laugh at
When misunderstood.
Easy to laugh at...
Until you see this does no good.
So 'Pornification' is 'not'
Too far out of the picture?
'And...
It's fornication! '
Then where does that 'F'ing 'F' go?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Beggar's Opera (excerpts)
Air I.An old woman clothed in gray, &c.1-
Through all the employments of life
-
Each neighbour abuses his brother;
-
Whore and rogue they call husband and wife:
-
All professions be-rogue one another.
-
The priest calls the lawyer a cheat,
-
The lawyer be-knaves the divine;
-
And the statesman, because he's so great,
-
Thinks his trade as honest as mine.Air XI.A Soldier and a Sailor2-
A fox may steal your hens, sir,
-
A whore your health and pence, sir,
-
Your daughter rob your chest, sir,
-
Your wife may steal your rest, sir,
-
A thief your goods and plate.
-
But this is all but picking,
-
With rest, pence, chest and chicken;
-
It ever was decreed, sir,
-
If lawyer's hand is fee'd, sir,
-
He steals your whole estate.Air XXII.Cotillon3-
Youth's the season made for joys,
-
Love is then our duty,
-
She alone who that employs,
-
Well deserves her beauty.
-
Let's be gay,
-
While we may,
-
Beauty's a flower, despised in decay.CHORUS.3-
Youth's the season, &c.Cotillon3-
Let us drink and sport to-day,
-
Ours is not to-morrow.
-
Love with youth flies swift away,
-
Age is nought but sorrow.
-
Dance and sing,
-
Time's on the wing,
-
Life never knows the return of spring.CHORUS.3-
Let us drink, &c.Air XXVI.4-
Courtiers, Courtiers think it no harm, &c.4-
Man may escape from rope and gun;
-
Nay, some have out-liv'd the doctor's pill;
-
Who takes a woman must be undone,
-
That basilisk is sure to kill.
-
The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets,
-
So he that tastes woman, woman, woman,
-
He that tastes woman, ruin meets.