my desire If they but see my name and look no higher But with my Sadness thou may'st well dispence A tribute due to her Departure hence For from my soul I honoured her and grieve That I 've but such small means to win beliefe Others may aim with a victorious Rhime To vindicate her from the rage of time Our ablest Poets whose each Distick may Both Brass and Marble Statues wear away Last till the noble Soul again shall come And take possession of her ancient Roome Converting all their Funeral Elegies By that Reunion t' Epithalamies And so by solemnizing her just worth Acquire themselves an endless Name on earth I no Ambition have but to make known Her merits were my Admiration Her Conversation harmless was and free For neither Pride nor ill Discourse had she Her sweet Conditions all the vertues were Not studied but habitual in her And ere the fatal Feaver had begun T'disturb her calm Soul's Habitation The beauteous body was a Palace fit Above all other t' entertain in it So Sublime and so many vertues such As made old Saints and martyrs prais'd so much But she is gone and we are left behinde To mourn the want of worth in Woman-kinde For femal vertues as our fears surmize Are all with her return'd to Paradise And there best Cousin may your welcome bâ— A Crown of Glory and Immortalitie 5. A funeral Elegie on my Dear Cousin Mistress Elizabeth Reppington who deceased at Ammington about the eighteenth year of her age and lyes buried at Tamworth THe Contemplation of death to prize Above all thoughts of humane vanities A Sublime wisdom is and makes Amends For such sad Contemplations at our Ends. Stifle therefore my Muse at their first birth All thoughts that may reflect upon the earth Be meraphysical disdaining to Fix upon any thing that is below Fame set thy Trump unto thy lips and sound The world this sad newsfrom her hallow'd ground Elizabeth Reppington that glorious Maid Hath left to guide us in this mortal shade By her unparallel'd example she Hath chang'd all Finite for Infinity Her Grave all beauty doth include for there Two Suns eclips'd lie in one Hemisphere Enveloped with Clouds thicker then those Which the remotest Arctick doth impose Her humble Lovers that like Persians pai'd Devotion to the Beams of her fair Head Whose hair their eyes in wonder did contain Continue to wish that Golden Fleece in vain Flowers more rich then graced Eden ever Lillieâ— and Roses there to dust do wither Oracles too are ceas'd again they from The temple of her mouth had us'd to come A lurid paleness sits upon the skin That did enclose the beauâ—eous body in As after a bright day Night doâ—h succeed And clothe high Heaven in a most horrid weed Her hands a Consort were of musick such As skilfully besâ— Instruments did touch Begetting harmony to emulate What the Intelligencing Spirits create By motion of the Spheres yet now they lye Uselesly here through deaths Impietie You that shall chance to read in these poor rhimes This Virgins Fate whose life did grace our times Whose Death this Nation justly may lament She being of it the prime Ornament And many vertues must a pattern prove To all those generous Souls that vertue love Consider what a loss her Parents have Whose Hopes are fal'n with her into the Grave Her Graces grown to an unequal'd height Lying now sleeping in the longest night Yet any Soul but hers would have been glad So fair and pure Confinement to have had But more illustrious hers like a bright flame Broke loose and is return'd from whence it came Where she enjoys all joys smiles on our tears Wishing that ours as happy were as hers And her sweet Company and Conversation We are depriv'd of but by Contemplation The maides that do in flowing Anchors streames Conceal themselves from busie Phoebus beames Upon whose Banks she us'd to walk and smile On the slow waters that past by the while Her immature Discease cease not to mone Under each Willow and on every stone The woods of Amington which oft times she Grac'd with her Presence to hear harmonie From the Innocuous Quiristers of the Aire Now murmure for her loss in sad despaire The Dryades that there had wont to play Spending in weeping for her every day The Graces that us'd thither to retire To dance unto skilful Apollos Lyre As often since as they that way do come Sit down and sing an Epicedium Thus I could prosecute but being grown Dull with so long a Lamentation My hand so trembling it can onely blot And Eies so fraught with tears that they see not I leave the World though sorrow struck it faint To mourn her Loss and make up my complaint 6. A Funeral Elegie upon the Death of Mr. Thomas Pilkington one of the Queens Musicians Who deceased at Wolverhampton about the 35. year of his Age and lies there buried AT the Report of so sad News sure soone The grieved Nation will be out of tune For Pilkington is dead who did command All Instruments with his unequal'd hand Mastring all Musick that was known before He did invent the Orphion and gave more Though he by playing had acquir'd high Fame He evermore escap'd a Gamesters Name Yet he at Gamut frequent was and taught Many to play till Death set his Gam out He was facetious and did never carp Making that Musick which came from him sharp His Flats were all Harmonious not like theirs Whose ebbs in prose or verse abuse our ears But to what end praise I his Flats since that He is grown One himself and now lies Flat Others for Days mispent are charged with crime But he a strict observer was of time Nothing escap'd his Study by all votes Being most perfect of mankind at Notes Though he was often in his Moodes they were Such as rejoyc'd all mindes and pleas'd each ear The Muses two-clif'd Hill he did surpass Whose Musick had three Cliffs to do it Grace With rashness none his Credit could impair Who did observe his Stops with so much Care His Frets were gentle Ones such as would be Stop'd with a Finger and make Harmonie His Family agree so in their Hearts That they did make a Consort of five Parts To be a Pattern unto every one Himself his Wife two Daughters and a Son Though somtimes there might some Division run T was for the best in the Conclusion For each learn'd Master in this Science knowes Good Musick often hath from Discords rose A Large his generous heart was and a Long His Life was wish'd by all the happy Throng Acquainted with his worths But in the chiese Of all his Dayes Death made it be a Briefe Crotchets he had good store yet such as were Harmonious full of Spirit life and aire His Life was but a Minum till his prime When as old Age should last out Sembrief-time His proved over short as if indeed He were Alas to die by Quaver-speed Whose
They the best pattern may be understood My sweet fair Cousins all the worlds four parts By Imitation of your rare deserts May grow in vertue you a mirrour be Where what they should be womankind may see 24. To my Vncle in law Mr. Richard Sutton When you and I meet Master Bancroft we Envy no mirth of any Company We all love cordially his Wit and Sack Make us enjoy our selves and nothing lack We Covetousness despise and cares let fly In Spanish smoke and consecrate to joy The hours we spend and when Sol leaves the skies Drink our next merry meeting and so rise 25. Of Ashborn Ashborn where many years our Cokaines name Hath been as Cambden tells us of some fame Though in the Peak thou stand'st thy fertile ground That like a Lover doth embrace thee round The Medows needes not envy which the Thames Saluteth in his passage with his streames The banks of Dove we think we do abuse If unto those compar'd of York-shire Ouse Our fruitful soil we do prefer to that Which holy Dee so long hath murmur'd at For not affording him a speedier way To pay his waves to the Virginian Sea Severnes and Trent's it envies not and thence We do conclude yields none preeminence If I commend too much 't is not a skill I would profess but onely my good will Yet other praises I to this could joyn If Betty Sheepy would draw better wine 22. To Mrs. Elizabeth Sheepy of Ashbourne Betty your wine is good and yet we know You may get better which we pray you do Our Countrey-wits would then leave clubbing In Darby-Ale and chang their penny-Pots groats Into fine Venice-glasses sparkling full Of generous Sack and be more bountiful Your Talbot then would rore and Poets sing That there did run the true Castalian spring Your husband honest Tom that 's sick it would Recover soon and make him live t' be old Get therefore Betty the best wine you may And we will style you our Mnemosyne 23. To my dear Cousin Germans Mrs Stanhope and Mrs. Isabella Hutchinson Sisters Let others praise Nottingham for the Site The River Trent and prospects of delight Mortimers Cave and now the ruine sad Of one of the best Castles England had I say that you two are the chiefest grace By living there that doth adorn the place 24. To Mr. John Young of the Bear in Powlesworth Though Puritans on in their grumblings go Be merry Master Young whil'st you are so What though their sensless zeal bark at your Bear If the Bandogs venture to come so near Keep such strong drink shall take them by the Crown And pluck the hypocrites of Piety down Making them do homage unto your sign And think it though an Image 't is divine 29. Of Men and Women Whilst Monuments of Brass and Marble stand Whilst Ships do grace the Seas and Cities Land And Men do walk upon the Terrene Ball So sure undoubtedly will women fall Yet let not this the females onely taxe Men fall on them that fall upon their backs 32. To Mr. Ralph Rawson lately fellow of Brasen Nose Colledge Though I of Cambridge was and far above Your Mother Oxford did my Cambridge love I those affections for your sake remove And above Cambridge now do Oxford love But I recant that change and say where e're You live that a third Academie's there You conquer humane passions and enshrine All vertues that the Schooles did e're define And to such height master all learned Arts That I know none your equal for all Parts Therefore what place soever you shall please To grace with your abode on Lands or Seas Although in frozen Thule I far above My Cambridge and your Oxford shall it love 31. To my most honoured Cousin the Lady Mary Fitzherbert of Tissington Madam the Peak is famous far and near For a great many wonders that are there Pooles-Hole the Devils Elden-hole the well That ebbes and flowes make Darbyshire excel The sandy hill that ever falls away And yet in bulk doth suffer no decay And Burtons Baith though in a village town Abroad our County give a fair renown These and the like do far and near invite Strangers and natives to delight their sight But these are Grotts Waters and Hills and such As we have one that doth exceed them much Your beauties and your many vertues speak You the chief Wonder that doth grace the Peak 32. Of Naples Naples the Romans old Parthenope Built under Hills upon the Midland-Sea Thou to Compania most delicious Part Of Italy the primest Glory art The Princes Dukes the Counts and Barons that In great abundance there do make their seat And flourish in all joyes this Life can grant To humane kind others I leave to vaunt Above all things that honour 't I preferre The all renowned Virgils Sepulchre And think that Virgil dead gives more renown Then all those Lords alive unto that Town 33. Of Wakes and May-Poles The Zelots here are grown so ignorant That they mistake Wakes for some ancient Saint They else would keep that Feast For though they all Would be cal'd Saints here none in heaven they call Besides they May-Poles hate with all their Soul I think because a Cardinal was a Pole 34. An Epitaph on Mr. Will. Davenport a Cousin-German of my wifes who dyed at Henbury his own house in Cheshire and lies buried by his wife at Dubridge in Darby-shire he being aged about 29. Here William Davenport lies and Stranger know That he was high in worth that lies so low He had a noble soul and liberal mind A generous courage and behaviour kind Sir Thomas Milwards daughter was his wife Whom he surviv'd and led a widowers life Our age was proud of him though in his prime Of years Death gave a Period to his time He left two Daughters and a spotless fame VVhich evermore shall wait vpon his Name 35. To Iustice Would be That you are vext their Wakes your neighbours keep They guess it is because you want your sleep I therefore wish that you your sleep would take That they without offence might keep their Wake 36. To Mrs Elizabeth Spencer Hail beauteous Virgin you whose glorious hair Justly with Ariadne's may compare VVhose eyes are Globes of purest fire whence flashes Th' enamour'd Nation soon would burn to ashes Did not your mighty modesty delight VVith their fair lids and veils to cloud their sight Your features are such wonders they can finde No Parallels throughout all VVomankinde How fine your hands are And how sweetly they Command the Lutes delicious Harmony Your Figure with your Form so right agrees That you are Natures exquisitest Piece Pretty ones we your feet must guess to be That toots are unto such a graceful Tree Whose leaves your clothes are conceal such things As would in Queens raise envy Flames in Kings Your own affection cause of fruit must prove VVhich yet none of our sex could ever move You are all fair without and sure
right To let your English Martial view the light You will oblige this Nation by your pains Those ' specially to whom the Latin's strange And he in the Elysian shades will smile To heare he speakes the language of this Isle 103. Of Cardinal Bellarmine Of all the writers of the Roman Part Bellarmine thou the most confuted art How happens thy ill Fortune that we call Thy confutation if we drink up all 104. Of Cornelius Gallus A Poet and a Traytour is such news Mercuries and Diurnals do not use Gallus a Traitour Gallows a Reward But sure Augustus did not prove so hard He put him to a nobler death we hope Poets should live by linesn ot dye by 'th rope 105. To Banellus Welcome good Sir to truth and welcome to The way to Heaven which you directly go May we your stedfast footsteps follow even And t is no doubt we shall arrive at Heaven 106. To Mr. Henry Longville Marvel not Friend that oftentimes I write As if in drinking I did take delight I at my best am ill enough and hate To make my self a Beast at any rate Of Mirth and companie I sometimes think The cause that now and then I write of drink 107. Of Catullus Tibullus and Propertius The ancient Epigrammatist Catullus Propertius and the amorous Tibullus Are often bound together what 's the reason They all weremerry Blades at every season Whilst they did live they often were together And now th' are dead th' are bound up so in Leather 108. To my Son Mr. Thomas Cokaine Let others glory in their Hawks and Hounds Their golden heaps and Circuit of their Grounds Their gallant Breed of Horses and their meat Drest so that Heliogabalus would eat Their Mistresses whose Beauties would inflame Unknown Lands Salvages and make them tame Themselves and them so richly dres'd that you The Heavens without a Cloud would think in view Give me a study of good Books and I Envy to none their hugg'd Felicity 109. To Mr. Daniel Millescent Momus doth carp that I do write so few Lines on this Theme and sayes th' are not enow I to a hundred thousand write t is true And worth so many for your worths are you 110. To Mr. Robert Creitton Dr. of Divinity formerly Oratour and Greek Professour of the University of Cambridge Among the many friends that I do name Neglected I do mention you 't were shame You were my Tutour and t is fit I show The world a Part of the Respects I owe Let this poor trifle be an atome of it Although to my disgrace and your no profit Expect from your learn'd Pupils Works of Art I can present you but a grateful heart 111. Of high-spirited women Histories of all ages do declare High-spirited women noble things have done One shall serve mention'd in particular And she the brave Ioeni an Amazon Bonduca long the Romans force withstood And seal'd her love t' her Countrey with her blood 112. To Momus Momus doth grumble Prethee spare me not Th' excception's just thou hast against me got I writ Catullus and the other two Were all of them Contemporaries t is true Valerius ere they flourish'd dy'd I know it Poets may feign in that hold me a Poet With truth of History I was too bold As men tye knots on Ropes to make them hold 113. To Mr. Edmond Ravenhill How in your company I do delight A Pleasure to my ears as well as sight When on the Harpsecals your sister Win Doth play and you upon the Violin I with that musick am affected much She plays so well and eke your Art is such Hast t' us and when with playing you are weary A Bottle of rich sack shall make us merry 114. To Anne Hill Nan Hill th' art good and great Think it not better To grow up to a Mountain and be greater With marriage therefore do not be beguil'd Y' are made a Mountain if y' are got with child But marry Nan Hill if you should grow wanton Rather then to be worse become a Mountain 115. To my honoured kinsman Mr. Edward Darcy Repair your house at Newhall and hast down And leave the noise of this expenceful Town You here deprive your self of many a good To be enjoy'd by Countrey-solitude Pretend not want of Companie For I Will waite upon you oft that live thereby You may reply you better would I grant it Keep a good house there and you need not want it 116. An Epitaph on Mr. Gilbert Knyveston my wives Brother who deceased in London about the 38 year of his age and lies buried at St. Giles in the fields Stay Passenger forbear thy hast And read whom Death herein hath plac't For Gilbert Knyveston here doth lye A shaking of mortality All Ethicks he his practice made On Christian foundation laid His Life was noble and his Death A rich soul did to heaven bequeath His loss we therefore should not mourn But for our selves to sadness turn Lament that we do want so much Of those great worthes that made him such Let 's study him and imitate so That we may prove like him Now go 117. Of amorous Courtship Men do solicite Women they contemne If they are bashful to importune them Man was made first and therefore should begin Do Women They ' gainst Modesty do sin 118. Of Katherine Boer A Catholick German knit his angry brow And cal'd Frier Martin Luthers wife a Sow But such his Passion was it did run ore She could not be a Sow that was a Boar. 119. Of Puritans Against Saints Fasts the Puritans do bawl And why To th' Flesh they are addicted all 120. To my brother in law Mr. William Nevil Dare Cambridgeshire leave off to boast Thy University so crost And Cambridgeshire forbear to vaunt Of Ely fam'd for many a Saint And Westow-lodge henceforth let be The primest glory that 's in thee Where plenty neatness and a right Well-govern'd house yield full delight VVherein you and your Lady give Example how the good should live 121. To Mrs. Alice Nevill his sister Y' are virtuous young and handsome and I dare VVith Sydneyes Queen of Corinth you compare Between you I no difference can write But she was slighted you your servants slight You may relent and I do hope you will If prayers prevail not Cupid use thy skill 122. To Mrs. An Mrs. Mildred Nevil his daughters Henceforth our English youth may cease to glory In famous Sydneys celebrated story For you two sisters shortly must incite Some matchless pen your happy lives to write That unto all this land it may be known Pamela and Philoclea are out-gone 123. To Paulinus Marry in Lent t is strange and yet no treason You say although unusual that season Marriage is not but the solemnization Forbidden then and y 'ave a dispensation The Church hath favour'd you shew it your duty And prize 't henceforth above your Ladies beauty 124. To my honoured friend Major William Warner Playes Eclogues Songs a
Satyre I have writ A remedy for those 'i th amorous fit Love Elegies and Funeral Elegies Letters of things of divers qualities Encomiastick Lines to works of some A Masque and an Epithalamium Two Books of Epigrams All which I mean Shall in this volume come upon the Scene Some divine Poems which when first I came To Cambridge I writ there I need not name Of Dianea neither my Translation Omitted here as of another fashion For heavens sake name no more you say I cloy you I do obey you Therefore friend God b'wy you 125. Of this Book This little Work I 've done which time may wast Or Ioves displeasure into darkness cast But I will hope the best and that it may Last after I am ashes many a day FINIS EPIGRAMS The third Book 1. To the Gentry of Darbyshire GEntlemen and my Countrey men pray look With courteous eyes upon this trivial Book For I present it to you that it may Show my respects to you another day Why to the Lords I write not you enquire I should not be so bold though I desire But to avoid prolixity of words Gentlemen they are though you are not Lords 2. To the Readers Two Books of Epigrams I 've writ before Yet Gentle Readers I present you more Behold the third here offer'd you but what It will prove good or bad I know not yet May it likewise obtain your candor els Henceforth for me write Epigrams your selves 3. To the Right Honourable Philip Earl of Chesterfield Baron of Shelford c. Philip the second Earl of Chesterfield I a request have and I hope you 'l yield Yet I in modesty long time have stuck From making it And 't is but for a Buck Bestow one on me and on this good reason I will not ask again till the next season 4. An Epitaph on Elizabeth the Lady Reppington who deceased at Ammington about the 50. year of of her age and lies buried at Tamworth Here underneath this Monumental Stone Elizabeth the Lady Reppington Doth lye inter'd And therefore whosoere Thou art that passest by awhile forbear Thy hast and read and weep for he 's unjust Unto the merits of her precious dust That doth not drop his Tears in showers for she Is worthy of eternal Memory Worthy of storms of sighes Thunder of Grones To mourn her loss with due afflictions The sea-bright family that gave her birth Hath gain'd thereby a glory on the earth Happy her husband in so good a wife Happy her children to receive a life From such a Magazine of worthes as she A fair example for Posterity To name her virtues is to name them all She was their Centre she their pure White-hall Their Court their Palace where heaven did rejoyce To see such Cherubims without a vice She was their Paradise and her bright soul The Diety that did command the whole But O! there is another heaven else sure Her soul had never left a place so pure Earth is not the reward for virtue Look Upwards that 's towards her she is a Book A Directory for thy life which read And practiced thou wilt be so prais'd when dead An Epitaph on my honoured Cousin Mr. John Reppington who deceased at Ammington about the 25 year of his age and lies buried at Tamworth Here lies Iohn Reppington that came to be By Edwards death Heir of his Family As t' him his elder brother did give room So he t' his younger witness by this tomb He a few weeks after his mother di'd And of the same new term'd disease beside So he a most obsequious son was found That waited on his mother under ground He was good natur'd bore an honest mind Belov'd by all men and to all men kind And had no foe but death who too severe Hath cast an Heir so young and hopeful here 6. To Mr. Charles Hutchinson my Cousin German Cousin I long to see you married well And long at Rawslison to see you dwell Then I should oft wait on you make some stay It being from Pooly t' Ashburn in the way So I should make your house mine Inne what tho W' are friends and neer a kin Pray be mine so 7. To Mr. Francis Fitzherbert of Lincolnes Inne my kinsman To love and not to love it is all one If you do let the Fair belov'd alone And to love once unless you do love ever Is a slight toy and was an earnest never Therefore to shew you true affection have Your Mistrisse wed and love her to the grave 8. To Mr. Will. Stanhope the younger my Cousin German Why do you live so long a Batchelor Is it cause you the femall sex abhor Or do you fear women are troublesome And therefore loth into their yoke to come If such opinions do your minde enthrall Marry a wife and she 'l confute them all 9. Of Quintilla Quintilla talkes too much and why is it Because Quintilla hath but little wit And at each thing she speakes she doth laugh after A Fool is known by an excess of laughter 10. To my mother Mrs Anne Cokain Let none our Ashbourn discommend henceforth Your Gardens shew it is a place of worth What delicate Sparagus you have growing there And in how great abundance every year What gallant Apricocks and Peaches brave And what delicious Nectorins you have What Mellons that grow ripe without those Glasses That are laid over them in other Places What Grapes you there have growing and what wine Pleasant to tast you made last vintage time Plant Vines when of Grapes you have got store Make wine enough and I will ask no more Then Mr. Bancroft in high lines shall tell The world your cellar 's Aganippe's Well The rest are to be made Song 1. 1. I Saw a proud fair Lass to day Whose beauties equal those of May She is as sweet as flowers new blown Much pity she should lie alone What would you give to bless your sight With such an object of delight 2. I wondred at her delicate hair Mulcibers Net so soft and rare T' entangle even the Gods above And fill their hearts with gentle love What would you give c. 3. I gaz'd upon her beauteous eyes Loves exquisitest Palaces VVherein as many Cupids be As there are men that dare them see VVhat would you give c. 4. Het stately forehead was so fair That Iris Arch is no compare Match'd onely in lame Vulcans bride Unequal'd in the world beside What c. 5. Her sweetest Mouth doth far excell The Delphian certain Oracle T is Loves best musick all ears charmer All hearts enthraller and blouds warmer What c. 6. Her pretty hands I did espy Fitter for kisses then an eye They were so small I cannot look For such again but in a book What c. 7. Her bosome Beauties sweet champain The Poets Elizium I do fain Not white with snow but a selecter Colour all overstrow'd with Nectar What c. 8. The two brave Thrones
vain To get repute by following that strain When I bethink me that great Johnson he Who all the ancient wit of Italy And learned Greece by his industrious Pen Transplanted hath for his own Countreymen And made our English tongue so swell that now We scarce an equal unto it allow Writ Epigrams I tremble and instead Of praise beseech a pardon when I 'm read 61. To my honoured kinsman Mr. Henry Kendal the younger Your Grand-Mother was hospitable did Invite me often to her house and bid Me hearty welcome And I hope to prove The like effects hereafter of your love Poets of old were Prophets held and I For once will venture on a Prophesy You shall at Smithsby flourish gain the Hearts Of all your Countrey by your worthy Parts 62. To Maides Soft Virgins you whose tender hearts are prone To yield unto your own destruction Resist all vicious flames and you will find The Glories of an undefiled mind Preserve your bodies as a Magazin That doth contain the richest Treasure in For Diamonds Pearls and Stones of highest price Heaven lov'd virginity mainly out-vies Patavine Chastity enjoying more Content then Acts of a Suburran Whore 'T is mean to yield submission unto Sense When virtue hopes so great a Recompence 63. To the truly Noble Sir Arthur Gorges Those worthy Romans that scorn'd humble things Created and obliged after-Kings Amidst their thoughts of highest honour ne're Conceiv'd Imaginations 'bove your sphere The Babylonian Euphrates may For ever run and Tybris never stay The plenteous Rhine continually speed on And Danubie each to it's Ocean And not out-go your fair and high repute Which doth amaze the world and strikes me mute 94. To Sir Andrew Knyveton my wives brother Wonder not why among so many of My Epigrams I do not oftner scoff And taunt of men observing when they halt And tax them smartly after for their fault I know that Epigrams should either be Satyres reduc'd to an Epitome Or els in choicest Language should invite Being what you please the Readers with delight Troth I in scoffes but little do prevail Which is the cause that I no oftner rail And have for Eloquence but what you see And therefore all my friends must pardon me 65. To my Cousins Germans Mr. Cromwell Mr. Byron Mr. Ratcliff and M. Alexander Stanhope The worlds four Parts and all the various Seas And Rivers that embrace them thousand wayes Perfect the Globe terrestrial set it fix't Equal the circumvolving Heaven betwixt So you four joyning in a Sympathie Of an unmach'd fraternal Amitie Sought to for noble Soules by all that can Under and Honour or a Generous man Are courted on all sides and truly do Love them reciprocally that love you So that your friends and you do justly stand The Centre of fair Friendship in the Land 66. To my Cousin Mr. Charles Cotton the younger In how few years have you rais'd up an high Column of Learning by your Industry More glorious then those Pyramids that Old Canopus view'd or Cair doth yet behold Your noble Father that for able Parts Hath won an high Opinion in all hearts May like the elder Scaliger look down With admiration on his worthy Son Proceed fair plant of Ex'lencies and grow So high to shadow all that are below 67. To my honest Kinsman Sir John Reppington I pray you Sir impale your Woods that we In them the hunting of the Buck may see By which good deed you will be sure to please grounds The Naiades and Hamadryades Honouring the woods and brooks that grace those And raise a stately Eccho by your Houndes T' invite Diana to your Groves that she A partner in your rural sports may be Or peirce the beauteous Goddess Venus ear And bring her down from her celestial sphere To be spectatress of your game brought thence To guard some young Adonis from Offence By making you a park all this is done A pleasant Grace unto your Amington 68. To my Brother in Law Colonel Will. Nevil The old luxurious Romans vaunts did make Of gustful Oysters took in Lucrine Lake Your Essex better hath and such perchance As tempted Caesar first to pass from France How did those ancient Worthies captive all The humbled world unto their Capitol Yet from it's highest Towers could not survey So rich a Countrey as from Holt you may The noble Brutus vertuous Portia Luckless Antonius chast Octavia Soul-fix'd Paulina to her murther'd Lord The learned Seneca such worthes afford As have astonish'd Ages yet your best Of wives may justly with them all contest You then enjoying a full Fortune and The delicacies may eat of Sea and land Your dayes spend at a house of so fair site And with a so deserving wife each night Consider since that you possess all this If y' are not happy who the Devil is 69. An Epitaph on a Penitent Bawde Here lies a good woman to speak but the truth Who liv'd by her Tail all the days of her youth And when she was old and none could endure her Stuck still to the Flesh and became a Procurer Yet was at her death so full of Remorses That she cri'd a peccavi for all her lewd courses 70. An Epitaph on an old Bawde Here lies an old Bawde whom the grave should have gotten Fourty years since for then she was rotten Now here she doth lie for all People to piss on For fear of Doomes-day in a stinking Condition But enough of this business for well we may think The more we stir in it the more it will stink 71. To my Cousin Mr. William Milward Whil'st you at Chilcote live and I at Pooley Let 's every Week meet one another duly Talk of our long Acquaintance and the strange Things that have hapned since this mighty change And drink a Glass of honest Countrey-Ale To all our absent Friends at every Tale. 72. Don Quixot Quarta parte Cap. 33. Es de vidrio la Muger Pero no se ha de provar Si se puede O no quebrar Porque to do podria ser Y es mas facil el quebrar se Y no es cordura ponerse A peligro de romperse Lo que no puede soldar se Yen esto opinion esten Tados yen r'azon la fundo Que si ay Danaes en el mundo Ay pluvias de Oro tambien Englished Of Women A Woman is of Glass or weaker And should not be put to the proof Or if she be not as to break her Which is a thing facile enough Glass is crack'd with an easie stroke And it no wisdom is to put That within danger to be broke Which never can be solder'd up All men of an Opinion are And it upon this reason ground That if there any Danaes were Gold Showers also would be found 73. Of a Servant-Maid A servant maid in Winter washing clothes Upon the banks where pleasant Arnus flowes A passenger espi'd her and did say I wish sweet heart you had a warmer day She look'd upon him
within Your fairer soul 's a glorious Cherubin He of mankind will lead the happiest life Whom you shall honour to become his wife 37. Of Pope Urban the Eight When I in Rome made some abode I oft Urban the Eight beheld and often laught To think how here our Zelots bawld him down And Preach'd him for the whore of Babylon He seem'd a gallant Prince and they that look May find him a fine Poet by his book Though bawds have sometimes beards none sure did see A Woman ere have such a beard as he But they were more mistaken in their speeches Tho virtuous women may whores wear no breeches Besides no wencher would bestow a doit To lye with such an whore a winters night 38. To those Preachers My friends I wish you would forbear your running After this whore and henceforth show your cunning Leaving this subject to no purpose vext To follow in the lieu of it your text 35. To Parissus Sir I conceive that you are in the List Of those that think the Pope is Antichrist Could you get one of them with child alone It should be you that made the true Pope Ioan. 40. To the Popes Princes you are have Dukedomes two or three I wish you would give one of them to me But that were to rob Peter to give Paul Or rather to rob both of them for Saul For I a Lay-man am and which is worse I think a Poet by my empty purse 41. To my wife on the birth of her daughter Isabella I in this second Daughter wish you joy Yet should have had more had it been a Boy Girles are by far more chargeable And when Boyes are grown up less care will serve for Men. You say a Nun you mean her such another I think you do intend as was her mother But whether she live Maid or prove a wife I wish her a long healthful happy life So I do leave you with your new Delight Till you and I do meet again at Night 42. Of our Ladie of Loretto I have been at Loretto and did there See the fam'd House which I 'le not argue here Do onely wish when I from Earth remove That I may see where she abides above 43. An Epitaph on Mr. Thomas Pilkington one of the Queens Musicians who dyed at Wolverhampton about the 35 year of his age and lies there buried Musicks prime Master of our Land this stone Covers For here lies matchless Pilkington He was the soul of Musick did contain All sorts of it in his harmonious brain A strange malignant Fever set a strife Between his soul and body ceas'd his Life So with his soul the soul of Musick fled Leaving that Science fainting though not dead Though oft his work was playing it was such As all Musicians cannot do so much With all their works In brief the richest Part The best Epitome of all that Art And choisest Musick that ere ravish'd ear Put out of tune by death lie buried here 44. To Zoilus Zoilus reports never a line I write Deserves t' appear before a wisemans sight Zoilus at this I nothing do repine But say thou being a Fool th' are fit for thine 45. An Epitaph on my dear sister Mrs. Lettice Armstrong who deceased about the 43 of her age and of Mrs. Lucy Cokain who dyed about the 34 of hers and lye both buried at Ashborn Lettice and Lucy here two sisters lye So constant to each others company Death could not part them long for four years space Reduc'd them both to this Sepulchral place There was no difference 'twixt them all their Life Save one liv'd single th' other was a Wife They both were virtuous left this world behind In hope the Glories of the next to finde Their Coffins lye so very close it doth Appear as if one Grave contain'd them both As their loves did unite them so the stone That both of them doth cover is but one And more to shew their mutual hearts it hath For both upon it but one Epitaph 46. To my Cousin Mr. Thomas Cokaine of Manciter You boast your Manciter was once a Town When here the Romans govern'd of Renown That Aderston from Ruines of it grew To be so spacious and so fair of view I yield unto your Truthes and adde one more Aderston drink makes Manciter so poor 47. Upon the Marriage of Mr. Edward Tilsly and Mrs. Anne Fleetwood So all your fears are past you both are sped And have no trouble but to go to bed Where what young married couples love the best I wish you a good night with little rest 48. Of Vesuvius I on the top have of Vesuvius been There laid me down upon my breast and seen Into the mighty Rupture whence the smoke Proceeds that often seems the skies to choke Torre de Guego din'd at which I found With that Hills scalding streams much burnt and drown'd As with their quarries Hills build Cities so They with their vomits them may overthrow 49. Of George Buchanon Buchanons oathes at Murries service were What he would say audacious George would swear Poets would lye I 've heard but never one That would forswear himself but Buchanon Yet he a famous Poet was what though Serpents may lurk in flowers of fairest show 50. To Mrs. Anne Adams my mothers Cosin-german Whilst you the generous Trenthams name enjoy'd And knew not what it was to be a Bride You in delicious Brussels wore away Most of your virgin-years beyond the Sea There you did thinke to lead a single life But thanks to Iohn that won you to his wife Who when you did return to England found That way to fix you on your native ground For you together live as if heaven meant To make you though not richest most content 51. To my highly honoured Cousin-German Mr. Arthur Sanhope son to the Earl of Chesterfield I do rejoyce at the respect you bear To Bretby by your choice of living there My Lord so great a house kept that by none Of all our Noblemen he was out-gone And you so neatly and gentilely live That all that know you Commendations give If my Lord Stanhope comes and you remove May you be follow'd by all good mens love That wheresoere you live there may be seen No change but alteration of the Scene 52. To Mris. Elizabeth Kendall my wives Niece Twycross I cannot choose but envy where Such ravishing Musick is and I not there You and your sister Frank Pegge every day So rarely sing that wondring Queens would stay To listen to your Layes from any sport And prize that while your house above a Court. 35. To Mr. Humphrey Mosley and Mr. Humphrey Robinson In the large book of Playes you late did print In Beaumonts and in Fletchers name why in 't Did you not justice give to each his due For Beaumont of those many writ in few And Massinger in other few the Main Being sole Issues of sweet Fletchers brain But how came I you ask so much to know
height It may last both your lives Good night 67. To Captain Mouther I 've been importun'd by some friends to tell How I approve your verses I say well Nor dare I otherwise that understand You have a desperate Courage heavy hand And a long sword Those few that do not matter The trifle cal'd their lives may scorn to flatter And so do I swearing that you write Works Will please the Christians and amaze the Turkes 69. To Mr. Clement Fisher of Wincott Shakspeare your Wincot-Ale hath much renownd That fo'xd a Beggar so by chance was found Sleeping that there needed not many a word To make him to believe he was a Lord But you affirm and in it seem most eager 'T will make a Lord as drunk as any Beggar Bid Norton brew such Ale as Shakspeare fancies Did put Kit Sly into such Lordly trances And let us meet there for a fit of Gladness And drink our selves merry in sober sadness 70. To Astrologers Your Industry to you the art hath given To have great knowledge in th'outside of heaven Beware lest you abuse that Art and sin And therefore never visit it within An Epitaph on Mrs. Brigit Allibond who dyed at Chenye about the eighteenth year of her age and lies there buried Here Brigit Allibond doth buried lye Whos 's too much love occasioned her to dye Insatiate thirst of gold Her Servants friends Sent him to travel and workt ' both their ends There he deceas'd which sad news thrust the Dart Of death through both her ears into her heart So Love chang'd Darts with Death Love too unkind To kill the body with the wound o th' mind Virgins should mourn her loss And by her men May see how Maids belov'd can love agen 72. An Epitaph on Lycisca who forc'd her husband to counterfeit his Religion Here lyes Lycisca that was full of Evil And therefore to be fear'd gone to the Devil Now seeing he and she have set all even Her Husband may walk in the Rode to Heaven 73. To Mrs. Francis Pegge my wifes Neece You once did think to be a Nun but now I hope you will forbeae that sacred vow And if you will be making vows pray take An husband and an holy vow him make So whether you become a Nun or wife Under a vow you may lead out your life 74. To Mr. Gilbert Knyveton and Mr. Thomas Knyueton my wifes Brothers Pray take an house and so continue on The hospitality you have begun For of such means none handsomer did live Or to their friends more generous welcome give Though you from Bradley are remov'd make known To noble minds each Country is their own 75. To my sister Mrs. Katharine Weston We were two brothers and five sisters now They are all dead alas save I and you All that Affection that among us was Let us therefore on one another place So we for Brothers and for sisters love An Emulation shall in others move 76. To my Cousin Mr. John Milward Of women some are foul and some are fair Some virtuous are and others are as bad Some go in poor apparel others rare Some melancholy are and others glad Some are at their prime others decaying are Some are reserv'd and others to be had Some timorous are any thing others dare Some dull and mop'd and others blith and mad Some humorous are others of freakes beware Some love to keep rheir homes others to gad Some high in virtues do themselves declare Others are overwhelm'd in vices sad Ovid would take of all to please his sences Give me a glass of Sack and choose you wenches 77. An Epitaph on Mr. Peter Allibond Fellow of Lincolne Colledge in Oxford Here buried lies within this hollow ground Oxfords prime glory Peter Allibond His Learning Lincolne Colledge hath renown'd And few the road to his high Parts have found Death in his Proctorship gave him his wound And thereby hindred him to go his Round And here hath laid him in a sleep so drown'd Not to awake but by th' last trumpets sound From hence then to arise and to be crown'd We hope with joyes where all joyes do abound 78. To my Niece Mrs. Isabella Boteler Your sister Iulia's married well and so Sweet Niece I wish you were dispos'd of too You the green sickness languish in and sure For that an husband is the proper'st cure What tho child-bearing pains on women drawes Sweet-meats by th' Proverb should have sowre sauce 79. To Mr. Andrew Whitehall You make a Violl speak your nimble hand That instrument seems onely to command How meanly many play strike so amiss That at their want of skill the strings do hiss Like resty horses they false steps do make And the vext strings with very shame to shake VVell tun'd that would agree they wrong so far Their artless violence doth make them jar So they but scrape abuse the strings and stick How dull the quickest are to you more quick Some few with their soft hands may please but you Please not alone but raise amazement too Your fingers on the neck and hand on Bow The motions of the Intellect out-go Such is your playing But if you would write How much you Works all mankind would delight 80. An Epitaph on my Father Mr. Tho. Cokain who deceased in London about the of his age and lyes buryed in St. Giles's Church in the Fields Stay Passenger and read under this stone Here Thomas Cokain lyes Sir Edwards son Mapleton gave him birth but far from home At London he deceas'd and this his Tombe Too mean a Monument for his great worth But virtue never findes reward on earth He was his families Heir but transitory Knowing all terrene wealth chang'd his for glory And here his body soft repose doth take Till him the Angels Trumpets shall awake 81. Of Cats Two Cats fell out and one an other slew May all Cats so to one another do Yet I can them endure would be their friend But that they company so oft offend 82. Of the English Spanish and French The Spaniards love the English they them hate The English love the French and they hate them A strange capriciousness of humane Fate 〈◊〉 Nations should affect whom them contemn Despised Lovers need not to complain Seeing t is known whole kingdomes love in vain 83. Of the Low Dutch The Belgians hate all but themselves wherefor Because no nation else can them endure What should the reason be of such an hate For aid receiv'd they have been so ingrate 84. To Isabel Manifold of the Black Swan in Ashb Heark Isbel Parker Isbel Hood But hold These names might serve were hers not Manifol Pray answer were your husband in the grave Soon after would not you another have If other women divers men should use They would disgrace their names for such abuse But without blushes you may hear it told That you of Men have lain with Manifold 85. To the same As great a wonder as black Swans some guess