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A70401
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A court of judicature in imitation of Libanius. With new epigrams. By the hand that translated Martial.
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Killigrew, Henry, 1613-1700.
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1697
(1697)
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Wing K443A; ESTC R213555
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29,464
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107
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once I e'er Appearance made At solemn Times to th' Temple I do go To pay the Duty to the Gods I owe But while I there before their Altars pray'd Two Noble Youths to Ruine I betray'd As I am charg'd Beauty my constant Scorn Is made my Crime a Crime was with me born If one and which I never did adorn Th' Addresses of all Lovers I oppose But what shou'd make alarms my soft Repose My Strictness rude Insults does often cause To the Affront of Vertue and of Laws Early this Morning I was thus advis'd Stand on your Guard or you will be surpriz'd Our Neighbour Tyrant vows he 'll you obtain By Stratagem or War your Person gain No Refuge I a helpless Virgin have But in the Sanctuary of a timely Grave A Judge i' th' Name o' th' rest did thus declare Exc'lent Apamia sink not in despair Your Honour as our own we do respect And as our Gods and Temples will protect All here will bleed who on this Bench do sit Before the Wrong you apprehend permit Is there said she that Witchcraft in my Face As to confound the wisdom of this Place Who to be Author of a War am I And that the State shou'd be my Guaranté My Life no way can make my Country blest And I 'll not be her Helen and her Pest. Regard to this Tribunal I have paid Address according to the Edict made To ease the Perturbations that I feel There is no Way but by this friendly Steel While yet she spoke she gave the fatal Wound The Glory of the Age fell with her to the Ground The sixth Address A Philosopher SInce Reason first awaken'd in my Soul Lusts to subdue and Passions to controul Have been my Strife on Vertue wholly bent The Lectures of the Wise I did frequent The fam'd for Science and good Conduct heard My Masters chose by Learning not by Beard Like others of my Age I did not rome The Schools when shut but ply'd good Books at home And when I more confirm'd in Strength did grow The Duty all Men to their Country owe Arm'd I 'mong her martial Squadrons show Nor in the Camp was I of mean Renown The Civil thrice I wore and twice the Mural Crown My Years of Warfare thus in Honour spent To th' intermitted Schools again I went Lectures of Use not Ostentation read To Peace and War our younger Nobles bred My Strength is spent Age has my Vigour broke A doted Trunk I 'm now was once an Oak Like to a Servant past his Work I sue For Manumission as his Right and Due Worthy Eubulus 't was to him reply'd Thy Vertuous Acts can be by none deny'd And 't is the Senat 's great Reproach and Brand That 'fore this sad Tribunal thou dost stand After a Life so good deserts so high That thou no Boon shou'd'st ask but leave to dye Does Grief afflict thee or does Want oppress Thine will be held the Commonwealths Distress Eu. My Gracious Lords 't wou'd my Pretences shame On such Accounts if for Support I came My Ways were ever just my Mind is sound No Guilt I know with little I abound Goodness it self cannot my Wants relieve I 'm broke by time and Youth you cannot give Useless I 'm grown this Thought does me oppress To see my Age than my first Years do less A Service for me could you yet descry I 'd it dispatch and after that I 'd dye But if 'gainst Nature I must only fight Age Aches and Diseases put to flight Against such Foes 't is Folly to contend And Leave I beg to make a Wise Man's End If so resolv'd the Senate does decree A Statue to preserve thy Memory And to thy own sage Counsel leaves thee free The seventh Address A desperate Lover STrait to th' amazed Bench perk't up in View One with a Garland hanging all askew His loose Attire suiting his reeling Crown Th' officious Guard address'd to pluck him down But to the Lords for Audience he did cry And said I 'm one of those come here to dye The Courts Regard I claim and to be heard No less than the last Speaker grave Sir Beard My Words despise not 'cause I come thus dress'd Haste urg'd me to unload my burden'd Breast I from a Banquet leapt My Lords of late T' an Hebrew Philosoph I did relate The Cause why here you sit in short to try To make Men live or give them leave to dye Says he this hearing Make you then no Odds Between your Senate and a Bench of Gods To punish Criminals with Death I know The Magistrates have Pow'r but can they show Commission too th' afflicted to give leave Themselves of Life at Pleasure to bereave This high Prerogative is Heav'n's alone Nor without Sacriledge any can it own The meanest Soldier that his Post forsakes Without Dismission his Deaths Process makes And shall not those who undismiss'd do leave This Life as great a Penalty receive A Dotard pleads Age useless him has made By Sickness Madam's Beauty is decay'd A Gormand losing his wild Boar and Pie The Earth hangs round with Sables and the Skie But the black Guilt which presses you 'bove all Divine Apamia in this Court did fall This makes me face you thus without all Dread To scorn your Fasces now the Virgin 's dead If these were Causes Murder to avow Why do you not all Crimes beside allow Make Theft and Incest to your Verdict bow Self-Murder's Murder what Laws e'er you coyn And while the Sin you licence in 't you joyn But a Barbarian does this Doctrine preach Is Truth not Truth unless a Greek it teach Pythagoras and Plato were more wise These learn'd Barbarians they did not despise What in their Writings so divine does show Tho not confess'd they unto these do owe. Hearing to gain I said I came to die And my Contempt declares I did not lie The Court Eubulus all did on him gape But to his Speech no Answer they cou'd shape Only to save their Honour did declare So high an Insolence they ought not bear But th' Effronté altho they did commit On like Account they never more did sit Epigram 1. To Candidus THou art impetuous I shou'd still write more Tho thrice in print I 've promis'd to give o'er and Promise a fourth time so it will produce An Epigram that 's good there will need no Excuse Altho thy Words do sound thus mad and wild They flatter so I am by them beguil'd Into the Deep again my Bark I lanch Where if it founder prove not tight and stanch In my Defence thou art oblig'd to say I the old Fool did to the Floods betray Epigram 2. On the Right Reverend Dr. E. Stillingfleet Lord Bishop of Worcester When thou this Venerable Name do'st hear Wholly confounded Muse thou do'st appear From severe Studys say'st he 's never free Nor to impede them Fond one send I thee Thou add'st tho none in antick Dust does rake Like him
well nigh unto Despair Time did his Peace restore her Grace decay The Maid remain'd when Beauty fled away Disdaining now he turn'd aside his Eye And said Times past how great a Fool was I Epigram 81. On Thyrsis and Alinda Alinda constant Thyrsis did adore And the bright Maid from all Pretenders bore Grown grey himself and she 'mong Matrons nam'd He ne'er forgot Times past how she was fam'd But said when all the Nymphs he did behold None my Alinda equals tho she 's old Epigram 82. On Bardus The noblest Marts of Books in all the Town Thou haunt'st among the Learn'd to get Renown Spend'st many Hours in turning o'er and o'er Both Greek and Latine Authors a vast Store Feigning to read but dost in truth but pore Understand'st none writ'st in a Book contains Just such a Treasure as thy worthless Brains Exhaust'st thy Spirits altho hail and strong A Dog ' twoul'd tire that did not sleep so long The Pains thou tak'st thy Ign'rance to disguise If well employ'd wou'd make thee learn'd and wise Epigram 83. A Farewel to Poetry I yield at length Reason and Age conspire To quench the Flame of my Poetick Fire These Words my Muse scarce utter'd yet did hear And charm'd up like a Spirit did appear Roses and Laurel were her Heads Attire Her pearl-trimm'd Harp was strung with Golden Wyer The Myst'ry in her Garments none cou'd spell Such wond'rous Fancy did in them excel Thus in her Glory she her self array'd More powerfully my fleeting to upbraid Ingrate she said what is it you propose With what Support will next your Dotage close Who shall your Pains divert Droopings revive Men will say There you sit but not alive This and much more enraged and high-flown She fiercely spoke supposing me alone But when she paus'd surpriz'd she did behold A rev'rend Dame of Heav'nly Form the old Her Hand a Book her Mantle Stars adorn'd Her Visuage Moses like was ray'd and horn'd With God as he she nearly did converse And of his Glory bore a bright Impress DEVOTION was her Name The Muse abash'd Her Figure 'fore she spoke her Boldness dash'd The Freedom she had shew'd she blushing blam'd Even of her Youth and Beauty seem'd asham'd Within your Bounds the Matron said contain Divine Effects ascribe not to what 's vain Your Art cou'd Pains divert but cou'd not cure A Flash of Life infuse not make t' endure The Ill-at-ease joy'd of 't to take the Air In your rough jolting Epigrammic Chair Which vary'd Griefs but did not them impair On downy Wings I 'll bear him far above All that is Mundane Pain Ambition Love Where all delights and nothing does annoy Sorrows are drown'd in Extasies of Joy These Words had Force the Muse her self t' inspire Who to a higher Key strait wound her Lyre And proselyted on the Earth cast down Low at Devotions Feet her Laurel Crown Resolv'd hereafter ne'er to wear the Bayes But on account of singing Heavenly Layes ERRATA PAge 3. line 7. read bear p. 9. l. 14. r. Tables p. 9. l. 16. r. Beauty p. 45. l. 13. r. Y' exalt p. 50. l. 12. f. it r. and p. 53. l. 11. r. dar'st p. 72. l. 11. r. Natures Shape p. 84. l. 10. f He r. One p. 94. l 10. r. theie days FINIS Books Printed for Henry Bonwicke at the Red Lion in St. Paul's Church-yard EPigrams of Martial Englished with some other Pieces ancient and Modern 8 o. Pia Desideria or Divine Addresses in 3. Books 1. Sighs of the Penitent Soul 2. Desires of the Religious Soul 3. Exstacies of the Enamoured Soul Illustrated with 47. Copper Plates Written in Latin Englished by Edm. Arwaker M. A. In 8 o. A New Description of Paris containing a particular Account of all the Churches Palaces Monasteries Colleges Hospitals Libraries Cabinets of Rareties Academies of the Virtuosi Paintings Medals Statutes and other Sculptures Monuments and Publick Inscriptions with all other remarkable Matters in that great and famous City Translated out of French To which is added a Map of Paris 12 o. Country Conversations being an Account of some Discourses that happened in a Visit to the Country last Summer on divers Subjects chiefly of the Modern Comedies of Drinking of Translated Verse of Painting and Painters of Poets and Poetry 8 o. Letters of Religion and Vertue to several Gentlemen and Ladies to excite Piety and Devotion with some short Reflections on divers Subject In 12 o. FINIS The Kings-Bench Cabal A SONG To the Tune hark hark I hear the Cannons rore I. ETernal Whig that still depends On Old Sham-Plots perjured ends Toth ' Kings-Bench amongst your friends Repair to make new Orders Make haste contrive some better way Or by the Gods you 'll loose the day Great York is now above half way To Revenge all Rape and Murthers II. We 're the best House of Commons now That once have made three Kingdoms bow Put in spew out as you know how fear Popery the old Notion Let 's purge the House of all that 's good That have our Cause so long withstood And dares not thirst for guiltless blood E'r York's upon the Ocean III. Great Hamden Rouse thy wonted strain Bring Trenchard into play again Vote down the guards and ev'ry swain That dares oppose our pleasure For to submit they would be loath Thy Father and thy Grand-Sire both To have ones hands ty'd up by Oath That may be loose at leisure IV. Let 's Vote the Duke out of the Town The King out of both Life and Crown Vote Death to all that keeps us down To leave the Cause a bleeding Shall we lie here ty'd up like Dogs Only Croaking our minds like Frogs While here the Doctor swears and flogs And leaves off all proceeding V. Come Speak and Bradon Arnold too Colt and Caldron what shall 's do Shall 's lie like Oysters here in stew And ne'r look out for help for 't Let 's send for Oxford Parliament With all their Guards for murther bent Come let 's attempt e'r Coin be spont Tho' each one Damn himself for 't VI. Shall we who were so great before Have neither power to plot nor whore Come let 's resolve break down the dore And joyn the Kent-street Rable Then Wapping and the Rump will rise The Tower and Westminster surprise While Charles and York at Windsor lies We 'll make this Town like Babel LONDON Printed for J. Dean Bookseller in Cranborn-street near Newport House in Leicester Fields 1684. * Cephissus was the River of Athens Eurotas of Sparta