From 'the Motto' Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABACCDDEEFGDDHHDDII JKDDLLMNOOOOOOAALLAA OOAAOOAAOOOOBA IIOODDPQQQOODDLLOOAA AADDOODDDARSDDOO SSTUVVAADDLLSSOOOODD LLSSOOODLLDDOODDDDSS OOSSLLSSOOAAOODDOODD

And first that no man else may censure meA
For vaunting what belongeth not to meA
Heare what I have not for Tie not denyB
To make confession of my povertyA
I have not of myselfe the powre or graceC
To be or not to be one minute spaceC
I have not strength another word to writeD
Or tell you what I purpose to inditeD
Or thinke out halfe a thought before my deathE
But by the leave of him that gave me breathE
I have no native goodnes in my soulF
But I was over all corrupt and foulG
And till another cleans'd me I had noughtD
That was not stain'd within me not a thoughtD
I have no propper merrit neither willH
Or to resolve or act but what is illH
I have no meanes of safety or contentD
In ought which mine owne wisdom can inventD
Nor have I reason to be desperate thoI
Because for this a remedy I knowI
I have no portion in the world like thisJ
That I may breathe that ayre which common isK
Nor have I seen within this spacious roundD
What I have worth my joy or sorrow foundD
Except it hath for these that follow binnL
The love of my Redeemer and my sinnL
I none of those great priviledges haveM
Which makes the minions of the time so braveN
I have no sumpteous pallaces or bowersO
That overtop my neighbours with their tow'rsO
I have no large demeanes or princely rentsO
Like those heroes nor their discontentsO
I have no glories from mine auncestersO
For want of reall worth to bragg of theirsO
Nor have I baseness in my pedigreeA
For it is noble though obscure it beA
I have no golde those honours to obtaineL
Which men might heretofore by vertue gaineL
Nor have I witt if wealth were given meA
To thinke bought place or title honour'd meA
I yet have no beliefe that they are wiseO
Who for base ends can basely temporiseO
Or that it will at length be ill for meA
That I liv'd poore to keepe my spirit freeA
I have no causes in our pleading courtsO
Nor start I at our Chancery reportsO
No fearfull bill hath yet affrighted meA
No motion order judgement or decreeA
Nor have I forced beene to tedious journeysO
Betwixt my counsellors and my attorneysO
I have no neede of these long gowned warriersO
Who play at Westminster unarm'd at barriersO
For gamster for those Common pleas am IB
Whose sport is marred by the ChanceryA
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I have no complements but what may showI
That I doe manners and good breeding knowI
For much I hate the forced apish tricksO
Of these our home disdaining politicksO
Who to the forraine guises are affectedD
That English honesty is quite rejectedD
And in the stead thereof they furnisht homeP
With shadowes of humanity doe comeQ
Oh how judicious in their owne esteemeQ
And how compleatly travelled they seemQ
If in the place of reall kindnessesO
Which nature could have taught them to expresseO
They can with gestures lookes and language sweetD
Fawne like a curtezan on all they meeteD
And vie in humble and kind speeches whenL
They doe most proudly and most falsely meaneL
On this too many falsely set their faceO
Of courtship and of wisdome but 'tis baseO
For servile unto me it doth appeareA
When we descend to soothe and flatter whereA
We want affection yea I hate it moreA
Than to be borne a slave or to be pooreA
I have no pleasure or delight in oughtD
That by dissembling must to passe be broughtD
If I dislike I'll sooner tell them soO
Then hide my face beneath a friendly showO
For he who to be just hath an intentD
Needs nor dissemble nor a lie inventD
I rather wish to faile with honestieD
Then to prevaile in ought by treacherieA
And with this minde I'll safer sleep then allR
Our Macavillian polititians shallS
I have no minde to flatter though I mightD
Be made some lord's companion or a knightD
Nor shall my verse for me on begging goeO
Though I might starve unlesse it did doe soO
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I cannot for my life my pen compellS
Upon the praise of any man to dwellS
Unlesse I know or thinke at least his worthT
To be the same which I have blazed forthU
Had I some honest suit the gaine of whichV
Would make me noble eminent and richV
And that to compasse it no meanes there wereA
Unlesse I basely flatter'd some great peereA
Would with that suite my mine I might getD
If on those terms I would endeavour itD
I have not bin to their condition borneL
Who are enclyned to respect and scorneL
As men in their estates doe rise or fallS
Or rich or poore I vertue love in allS
And where I find it not I doe despiseO
To fawn on them how high soe're they riseO
For where proud greatnesse without worth J seeO
Old Mordecay had not a stiffer kneeO
I cannot give a plaudit I protestD
When as his lordship thinks he breakes a jeastD
Unles it move me neither can I grinL
When he a causeles laughter doth beginL
I cannot sweare him truly honourableS
Because he once received me to his tableS
i And talk't as if the Muses glad might beO
That he vouchsafed such a grace to meO
I His slender worth I could not blazen soO
By strange hyperboles as some would doD
Or wonder at it as if none had binL
His equall since King William first came inL
Nor can I thinke true vertue ever car'dD
To give or take for praise what I have heardD
For if we pryze them well what goodly graceO
Have outward beauties riches titles placeO
Or such that we the owners should commendD
When no true vertues doe on these attendD
If beautiful he be what honor's thatD
As fayre as he is many a beggar's bratD
If we his noble titles would extollS
Those titles he may have and be a foolS
If seats of justice he hath climbed we sayO
So tyrants and corrupt oppressors mayO
If for a large estate his praise we tellS
A thousand villains may be praised as wellS
If he his prince's good esteeme be inL
Why so hath many a bloudy traytor binL
And if in these things he alone excellS
Let those that list upon his praises dwellS
Some other worth I find ere I have senseO
Of any praise deserving excellenceO
I have no friends that once affected wereA
But to my heart they sit this day as neareA
As when I most endear'd them though they seemeO
To fall from my opinion or esteemeO
For pretious time in idle would be spentD
If I with all should alwayes complementD
And till my love I may to purpose showO
I care not wher' they think I love or noO
For sure I am if any find me chang'dD
Their greatnes not their meannesse me estrangedD

George Wither



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