thee On the death of his Royall Majesty Charles late King of England c. WHat went you out to see a dying King Nay more I fear an Angel suffering But what went you to see A Prophet slain Nay that and more a martyrd Soveraign Peace to that sacred dust Great Sir our fears Have left us nothing but obedient tears To court your hearse in those pious flouds We live the poor remainder of our goods Accept us in these later obsequies The unplundred riches of our hearts and eyes For in these faithful streams and emanations W' are subjects still beyond all Sequestrations Here we cry more than Conquerours malice Murder estates but hearts will still obey These as your glory 's yet above the reach may Of such whose purple lines confusion preach And now Dear Sir vouchsafe us to admire With envey your arrival and that Quire Of Cherubims and Angels that supply'd Our duties at your tryumphs where you ride With full caelestial Iôes and Ovations Rich as the conquest of three ruin'd Nations But 't was the heavenly plot that snath d you hence To crown your soul with that magnificence And bounden rights of honor that poor earth Could only wish and strangle in the birth Such pitied emulation stop'd the blush Of our ambitious shame non-suited us For where souls act beyond mortallity Heaven only can performe that Jubilee We wrastle then no more but bless your day And mourn the anguish of our sad delay That since we cannot add we yet stay here Fettred in clay Yet longing to appear Spectators of your bliss that being shown Once more you may embrace us as your own Where never envy shall devide us more Nor Citty tumults nor the worlds uproar But an eternal hush a quiet peace As without end so still in the increase Shall lull humanity a sleep and bring Us equal subjects to the heavenly King Till when I 'le turn Recusant and forswear All Calvin for there 's Purgatory here An Epitaph STay Passenger Behold and see The widdowed grave of Majestie Why tremblest thou Here 's that will make Alâ— but our stupid souls to shake Here lies entomb'd the sacred dust Of Peace and Piety Right and Just The bloud O startest not thou to hear Of a King 'twixt hope and fear Shedd and hurried hence to bee The miracle of miserie Add the ills that Rome can boast Shrift the world in every coast Mix the fire of earth and seas With humane spleen and practises To puny the records of time By one grand Gygantick crime Then swell it bigger till it squeeze The globe to crooked hams and knees Here 's that shall make it seem to bee But modest Christianitie The Lawgiver amongst his own Sentenc'd by a Law unknown Voted Monarchy to death By the course Plebeian breath The Soveraign of all command Suff'ring by a Common hand A Prince to make the oâ—ium more Offer'd at his very door The head cut off ô death to see 't In obedience to the feet And that by Justice you must know If you have faith to think it so Wee 'le stir no further then this sacred Clay But let it slumber till the Judgment day Of all the Kings on earth 't is not denyed Here lies the first that for Religion died A Survey of the World THe World 's a guilded trifle and the state Of sublunary bliss adulterate Fame but an empty sound a painted noise A wonder that nere looks beyond nine dayes Honour the tennis-ball of fortune Though Men wade to it in bloud and overthrow Which like a box of dice uneven dance Sometimes 't is one 's somtimes another's chance Wealth but the hugg'd consumption of that heart That travailes Sea Land for his own smart Pleasure a courtly madness a conceipt That smiles and tickles without worth or weight Whose scatter'd reck'ning when 't is to be paid Is but repentance lavishly in-layd The world fame honour wealth pleasure then Are the fair wrack and Gemonies of men Ask but thy Carnall heart if thou shouldst bee Sole Monarch of the worlds great familie If with the Macedonian Youth there would Not be a corner still reserv'd that could Another earth contain If so What is That poor insatiate thing she may call bliss Question the loaden Gallantry asleep What profit now their Lawrels in the deep Of death's oblivion What their Triumph was More than the moment it did prance pass If then applause move by the vulgar crye Fame 's but a glorious uncertainty Awake Sejanus Strafford Buckingham Charge the fond favourites of greatest name What faith is in a Prince's smile what joy In th' high Grand Concilio le Roy Nay Caesar's self that march'd his Honour s through The bowels of all Kingdoms made them bow Low to the stirrop of his will and vote What safety to their Master's life they brought When in the Senate in his highest pride By two and thirty wounds he fell and dyed If Height be then most subjected to fate Honour 's the day-spring of a greater hate Now ask the Grov'ling soul that makes his gold His Idol his Diana what a cold Account of happiness can here arise From that ingluvious surfet of his eys How the whole man 's inslaved to a lean dearth Of all enjoyment for a little earth How like Prometheus he doth still repair His growing heart to feed the Vultur care Or like a Spider's envious designes Drawing the threds of death from her own loines Tort'ring his entrails with thoughts of to morrow To keep that masse with grief he gain'd with sorrow If to the clincking pastime in his ears He add the Orphanes cries and widdows tears The musick 's far from sweet and if you sound him Truly they leave him sadder than they found him Now touch the Dallying Gallant he that lyes Angling for babies in his Mistris eyes Thinks there 's no heaven like a bale of dyce Six Horses and a Coach with a device A cast of Lacquyes and a Lady-bird An Oath in fashion and a guilded Sword Can smoak Tobacco with a face in frame And speak perhaps a line of sense to th' same Can sleep a Sabboath over in his bed Or if his play book 's there will stoop to read Can kiss its hand and congey a la mode And when the night's approaching bolt abroad Unless his Honour's worship's rent's not come So he fals sick and swears the Carrier home Else if his rare devotion swell so high To waste an hour-glasse on divinity T is but to make the church his stage thereby To blaze the Taylor in his ribaldry Ask but the Jay when his distress shall fall Like an arm'd man upon him where are all The rose-buds of his youth those atick toyes Wherein hee sported out his pretious dayes What comfort he collects from Hawk or Hound Or if amongst his looser hours he found One of a thousand to redeem that time Perish'd and lost for ever in his prime Or if he dream'd of an
Ex otio Negotium OR MARTIALL HIS EPIGRAMS Translated With Sundry Poems and Fancies By R. Fletcher vivere Chartae Incipiant Cineri gloria sera venit Mar. lib. 1. Epig. 26. LONDON Printed by T. Mabb for William Shears and are to be sold at the Bible in Bedford street in Covent-garden 1656. M. VALERIUS MARSHAL Anno Aetatis suae 51. Ro Vaughan sculpsit To the Reader Courteous Reader I Here present thee with the scatterd Papers of my Youth which if they want that seriousness and solemn thoughts which become the ticklish stage of so catching a world let me beseech thy pardon had I sacrificed to thy view a volume beyond exception it had Anticipated thy Clemency and left thee no occasion to have exercised thy goodnesse But I am not of that number that dares Challenge the sharpe-sighted Censure of the times and conceive their Papers as their persons beyond fault or defection If I have not rendred the accute fancy of my most ingenious Author in its pure genuine dress as his own Pen hath deliverd him in ascribe the faile to my weakness not my will And for those abortive births slippd from my brain which can carry neither worth nor weight in the scale of this pregnant age so fraught and furnish'd with variety of gallant Pieces and performances of the choicest of writers give me leave to flurn at them as the poor excrescencies of Nature which rather blemish than adorn the structure of a well-composed body But least I tire thy patience with a tedious Apolligie like the Pulpit-cuffers of the age which breath their Audience at every accent either a sleep or out of doors I will no longer detain thee in the Porch and Preface of the Work If my looser minutes shall either please or profit thee I have my end If not I have my desire may I be thought worthy to be acknowledged Thy Friend and Servant R. Fletcher A Table of the Poems and Fancies in this Book THe Publipue Faith Page 129. A Lent on Lettany composed for a confiding Brother for the benefit and edification of the Faithfull Ones p. 131 The Second Part p. 135 A Hue and Cry after the Reformation p. 137 A Committee p. 138 On the happy Memmory of Alderman Hoyl that hang'd himself p. 141 On Clarinda Praying p. 142 On Clarinda Singing p. 145 Platonick Love p. 147 A Sigh p. 149 Love's Farewell p. 151 Christmass Day or the shuttle of an inspyred Weaver bolted against the Order of the Church for its Solemnitie p. 154 Good Fryday p. 156 Easter Day p. 157 Holy Thursday p. 159 Whitesunday p. 161 A short Ejaculation upon that truly worthy Patron of the Law Sr John Bridgman p. 164 Obsequies on that right Reverend Father in God John Prideaux late Bishop of Worcester p. 166 On the death of his Royall Majesty Charls late King of England p. 171 An Epitaph on the same p. 173 A Survey of the World p. 174 An Old Man Courting a Young Girle p. 177 An Epitaph on his deceased Friend p. 182 Mount Ida or beautie's Contest p. 183 Vpon a Fly that flew into a Ladies eye and there lay buried in a Tear p. 185. Obsequies to the Memory of the truly Noble right Valiant and right Honourable Spencer Earl of Northampton Slain at Hopton Field in Staffordshire in the beginning of this Civill War p. 186 The London Lady p. 190 The Times p. 194 The Modell of the New Religion p. 202 Content p. 204 May-day p. 208 An Epigram to Doulas p. 211 An Epigram on the people of England p. 212 An Elegie upon my dear little Friend Mr. I. F. who dyed the same morning he was born Decm the 10. 1654. p. 213 A short Reflection on the Creation of the World p. 217. My Kingdom is not of this world p. 221 Come unto me all yee that labour and are heavy laden p. 222 A Sing-song on Clarinda's Wedding p. 226 On the much to be Lamented Death of that gallant Antiquarie and great Master both of Law and Learning John Selden Esquire p. 231 Vpon the Death of John Selden Esquire p. 235 Vpon the incomparable Learned John Selden p. 239 Vpon the Death of John Selden p. 240 Degenerate Love and Choice p. 242 A Dialogue between two water Nymphs Thamesis and Sabrina p. 247 To my honoured Friend Mr. T. C. that asked mâ— how I liked his Mistris being an old Widdow p. 254 The Engagement Stated p. 257 MARTIALL Lib. I. Epig. Ad Catonem WHen thou didst know the merry Feast Of jocund Flora was at best Our solemn sports how loosely free And debonair e the vulgar be Strict Cato why didst thou intrude Into the seated multitude Was it thy frolick here alone Only to enter and be gone Ad Lectorem Epig. 2. This whom thou readst is he by thee required Martiall through all the world fam'd and desired For sharpest Books of Epigrams on whom Ingenious Reader living without Tombe Thou hast bestow'd that high and glorious wreath Which seldome Poets after death receive Ad Librum suum Epig. 4. Among the Stationers th'hadst rather be My litle Book though my shelf's void for thee Alas thou knowst not Rome's disdain Great Mars his sons are of a pregnant brain Gybes no where are more free young men and old And Boyes their Nose up in derision hold Whiles thou shalt hear thy praise and kisses have Thou shalt be toss'd from th' bosome to the Grave But thou for fear thou feel'st thy Masters hand And thy loose sports should by his reed be scann'd Lascivious Book thou seek'st to mount abroad Go fly but home were yet thy safer road Ad Caesarem Epig. 5. If by chance Caesar thou take up my Books Lord of the world put by thy morning looks Thy greatest tryumphs have admitted mirth Nor need'st thou blush to give my fancy birth With what aspect thou smilest on Thymele Or mimicall Latinus read thou mee Innocent sports strict censure may peruse My life is modest though my lines be loose Ad Decianum Epig. 9. Because thou follow'st so in thy intents Great â—hrasea's and brave Cato's presidents That thou maist be secure nor runn'st thybrest Naked on drawn Swords in a frantick jest Decian thou dost what I would have thee do I like not him who to redeem or wo An empty fame by 's easie blood is rais'd Give me the man that lives and yet is prais'd De Gemello Maronilla Epig. 11. Gemellus seeks old Maronill to wed Desires it much is instant prayes and fees Is she so fair Nought's more ill favoured What then provokes O she doth cough and wheeze De Arria Paeto Epig. 14. When Arria to her Paeto gave the sword Which she in her own bowels first had gor'd Trust me quoth she that wound I made do'nt grieve But that doth Paetus which thou meanest to give Ad Julium 16. Epig. O thou to mee ' mongst my chiefe friends in mind Julius if antient faith and tyes ought bind The sixtith
libera nos c. From a Chancery-writ and a whip and a bell From a Justice of Peace that never could spell From Colonel P. theVicar of Hell Libera nos c. From Neat's feet without socks and three-penny Pyes From a new sprung light that will put out ones eyes From Goldsmiths Hall the Devil and Excize Libera nos c. From two hours talk without one word of sense From liberty still in the future tense From a Parliament long-wasted conscience Libera nos c. From a Coppid crown-Tenent prickd up by a Brother From damnable members and fits of the Mother From eares like Oysters that grin at each other Libera nos c. From a Preacher in buff and a quarter-staff steeple From th' unlimited soveraign power of the People From a Kingdom that crawls on its knees like a Creeple Libera nos c. From a vinegar Priest on a Crab-tree stock From a foddering of prayer four hours by the Clock From a holy Sister with a pittiful Smock Libera nos c. From a hunger-starv'd Sequestrators maw From Revelations and Visions that never man saw From Religion without either Gospel or Law Libera nos c. From the Nick and Froth of a penny pot-house From the Fidle and Cross and a great Scotch-Louse From Committees that chop up a man like a Mouse Libera nos c. From broken shins and the bloud of a Martyr From the titles of Lords and Knights of the Garrer From the teeth of Mad-dogs and a Country-mans quarter Libera nos c. From the Publique Faith and an egg butter From the Irish purchases and all their clutter From mega's nose when he fettles to sputter Libera nos c. From the zeale of old Harry lock'd up with a Whore From waiting with plaints at the Parliament dore From the death of a King without why or wherefore Libera nos c. From the French disease and the Puritane fry From such as nere swear but devoutly can lye From cutting of capers full three story high Libera nos c. From painted glass and Idolatrous cringes From a Presbyters Oath that turnes upon hinges From Westminster Jews with Levitical fringes Libera nos c. From all that is said and a thousand times more From a Saint and his charity to the Poor From the plagues that are kept for a Rebel in store Libera nos c. The second part THat if it may please thee to assist Our Agitators and heir list And Hemp them with a gentle twist Quaesumus te c. That it may please thee to suppose Our actions are as good as those That gull the people through the nose Quaesumus te c. That it my please thee here to enter And fix the rumbling of our center For we live all at peradventure Quaesumus te c. That it may please thee to unite The flesh and bones unto the sprite Else faith and literature good night Quaesumus te c. That it may please thee ô that wee May each man know his Pedigree And save that plague of Heraldrie Quaesumus te c. That it may please thee in each Shire Citties of refuge Lord to reare That failing Brethren may know where Quaesumus te c. That it may please thee to abhor us Or any such dear favour for us That thus have wrought thy peoples sorrows Quaesumus te c. That it may please thee to embrace Our dayes of thanks and fasting face For robing of thy holy place Quaesumus te c. That it may please thee to adjourn The day of judgment least we burn For lo it is not for our turn Quaesumus te c. That it may please thee to admit A close Commitee there to sit No devil to a humane wit Quaesumus te c. That it may please thee to dispence A litle for convenience Or let us play upon the sense Quaesumus te c. That it may please thee to embalm The Saints in Robin wisâ—om's Psalm And make them musical and calm Quaesumus te c. That it may please thee since t is doubt Satan cannot throw Satan out Unite us and the Highland â—out quaesumus te c. A Hue and Cry after the Reformation WHen Temples lye like batter'd Quarrs Rich in their ruin'd Sepulchers When Saints forsake their painted glass To meet their worship as they pass When Altars grow luxurious with the dye Of humane bloud Is this the floud Of Christianity When Kings are cup-boarded likc cheese Sights to be seen for pence a piece When Dyadems like brokers tyre Are custom'd reliques set to hire When Soverainty and Scepters loose their names Stream'd into words Carv'd out by swords Are these refining flames When subjects and Religion stir Like Meteors in the Metaphor When zealous hinting and the yawn Excize our Miniver and Lawn When blue digressions fill the troubled ayre And th' Pulpit's let To every Set That will usurp the chair Call yee me this the night's farewel When our noon day 's as darke as Hell How can we less than term such lights Ecclesiastick Heteroclites Bold sons of Adam when in fire you crawle Thus high to bee Perch'd on the tree Remember but the fall Was it the glory of a King To make him great by suffering Was there no way to build God's House But rendring of it infamous If this be then the merry ghostly trade To work in gall Pray take it all Good brother of the blade Call it no more the Reformation According to the new translation Why will you wrack the common brain With words of an unwonted strain As plunder or a phrase in senses cleft When things more nigh May well supply And call it down right theft Here all the School-men and Divines Consent and swear the naked lines Want no expounding or contest Or Bellarmine to breake a jest Since then the Heroes of the pen with mee Nere scrue the sense With difference We all agree agree A Committee CAst Knaves my Masters fortune guide the chance No packing I beseech you no by-glance To mingle pairs but fairly shake the bag Cheats in their sphaeres like subtle spirits wag Or if you please the Cards run as they will There is no choice in sin and doing ill Then happy man by 's dole luck makes the ods He acts most high that best out-dares the gods These are that Raw-bon'd Herd of Pharoahs Kine Which eat up all your fatlings yet look lean These are the after-claps of bloudy showres Which like the Scots come for your gude and yours The gleaners of the field where if a man Escape the sword that milder frying-pan He leaps into the fire cramping clawes Of such can speak no English but the cause Under that foggy term that Inquisition Y' are wrack'd at all adventures On suspition No matter what 's the crime a good estate 's Dilinquency enough to ground their hate Nor shall calm innocence so scape as not To be made
Refrain thy dull delayes and bitter trying Of my sad heart Slain by thâ— dart If this be all my crop of hopes and fears My love my God shall have my sins my tears Free me this once and when I come to bee The pris'ner of a second miserie Bring all thy chains And wracks of horrid pains I 'le willingly embrace the dreadful chance And court my death as a deliverance Whisper no more there 's faith in womankinde Or any fixed thought to strike me blinde When each new face Their fickle vows unlace And each strange object that attempts their eye Bribes all their sense into variety Give me a heart of such a sollid frame Breathes above changes and is still the same I like no wits That flow by antique fits Nor such a whiffling love whos wandring fire Is guided by a weather-cock desire Give me a Mistris whose diviner minde Speaks her descended of the heavenly kinde Whose gloryes are No borrow'd tinsel ware Let her be yce to all the world but such As waxe to me that melts upon the touch Call not that chastity that 's proud disdain Nor plead them honest that in shew refrain Lust has that trick And stews such Rhetorick Only to raise the standard of their price And steal a verteous paint by seeming nice No I abhor those poor religious blindes Which aime to sequester our eyes mindes Love has no mask Nor can it frown or ask But in a sweet consent moves every way With its dear object like the Sun and day No either love me still or not at all I like no passions that can rise and fall No humours please In this conceal'd disease But if my Mistris strive to catch my will The Lawrel is attain'd by standing still Once more I tempt thy pitty Dearest Love And if these tears can no compassion move I 'le scorn thee more Than I have lov'd before And stanck up the salt Conducts of mine eyes To watch thy shame weep mine obsequies Christmas Day Or the Shutle of an inspired Weaver bolted against the Order of the Church for its Solemnity CHrist-mass give me my beads The word implies A plot by its ingredients Beef and Pyes A feast Apocryphal a popish rite Kneaded in dough beloved in the night The night beloved that 's as much to say By late translations not in the day An annual dark-lanthorn Jubile Catesby and Vaulx baked in conspiracie The Hierarchie of Rome the Triple Crown Confess'd in Triangles then swallow'd down With spanish Sack The eighty eight Armado Newly presented in an Ovenado O Calvin now my Cause upon thee fixes Were ere such dregs mix'd with Genevae sixes The cloyster'd steaks with salt and pepper lye Like Nunnes with patches in a Monastrie Prophaneness in a Conclave nay much more Idolatrie in crust Babylon's Whore Raked from the grave and baked by hanches then Serv'd up in coffins to unholy men Defiled with superstition like the Gentiles Of old that worship'd Onions Roots and Lentiles Did ever John of Leyden prophecy Of such an Antichrist as pudding-pye Beloved t is a thing when it appears Enough to set the Saints all by the ears In solving of the text a doubtfull sin Reformed Churches nere consented in But hold my Brethren while I preach and pray Me thinks the Manna melts and wasts away I am a man as all you are have read Of Peter's sheet how he devoutly fed Without exception therefore to dispence A little with the worm of conscience And bend unto the creature I profess Zeal and a Pye may joyn both in a mess The dearest sons may erre then why a sinner May I not eat since HVGH eat three to dinner Good Fryday WHat sable Cypress maskes the glorious Sun Rivalls the world and robs us of our Noon What Ague cramps the earth whereas time fled Why groan the graves is nature vanished Or must y shrivell'd heavens in one dread fire Rowle up in flames then languish and expire Some horrid change approaches some sad guise Nature or else the God of nature dyes Here 's more than man in this more than mankinde Death 's in pursuance or the world resign'd No common passion strikes mine eye no fate Less than the whole's extinction or debate Angels stand trembling and amaz'd the sphears Cease their bless'd harmony and turn all tears Wrapp'd in a dreadful hush so highly more Is man's redemption than his birth before To raise a world from nothing and divide Dull bodies from the thin and rarified Speaks God in every close But to renew Those ruin'd attomes when confusion threw The whole into a lumpish mass again This makes the lovely wonder soveraign To mould a man in clay then quicken that Dead body with a soule cooperate Argues a Reall Presence But when sin Has soyl'd that heavenly stamp and chain'd it in The fetters of damnation to restore That life in death transcends the love before O then behold and see if ever pain Or anguish match'd that sorrow when the slain Of God bleeds on the Cross when heaven descends In bloud to make man the heavens friends Nay more when man lay doom'd eternally To answer his own wrath even God could dye And smile upon those Wounds that Spear that Grave Which our rebellions merited and gave This love exceeds all height yet I confess 'T was God that did it how could it be less Easter Day HOw all the guard reliev'd the Romans fled Those Basilisks that seeing conquered Heaven back my faith what glorious Apâ—arition Shines in the vault what angel like condition Of Souldiers doe I see surely my fear Trebles the object t is the Gardiner Flow out my tears Th' have stollen the Lord away Come view the place whereas his body lay But yet behold the napkin and the cloathes Wrapp'd by themselves in vain you take your Oaths Hard hearted Jews For ô hee 's risen and gone Why stand you gazing what d' yee dote upon Peace be unto you O now I hear his voyce Run Peter that thy spirit may rejoyce A greater Star than that out of the East Which led the Wise-men rises in my brest See where he rides in tryumph hell death Dragg'd at his chariot wheells the powers beneath Made groveling Captives all their trophies bring Slaves to the lawrels of the glorious King Nay sin and the dull grave make up the crowd Though base yet all pris'ners at war allowd Ride on brave Prince of Souls enlarge thy T is thy own work alone to kill raise Dying to vanquish death and by thy fall bayes To be the Resurrection of us all Flow hither all believers yee that sow In tears and in a veile but darkly know Stretch hither the distrustfull hand and feel Th' impressions of the nails and barbed steel But yet forbear his word must be attended Touch me not for I am not yet ascended However feast your eyes behold the Star Of Israel's deliverer This boon to begging Moses hee 'd not give But now frail