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ID Title Author Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) STC Words Pages
A46280 Wit in a wildernesse of promiscuous poesie by the author Tho. Jordan. Jordan, Thomas, 1612?-1685? 1665 (1665) Wing J1072; ESTC R19732 17,369 50

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are where persons void of fame And full of lnst use this to feed the flame What 's this to th' Art the Spider and the Bee Extract by one rule of Phylosophy And that which is an ornament in one May in another breed destruction I fear that Scripture phrase where mischief 's hid Hath done more hurt then ever dancing did All things may be corrupted meat drink health The Seat of Justice an whole Commonwealth If it be so then I may boldly say That Danceing is as innocent as they An Epitaph in an Acrostick on the Name of his worthy Friend THOMAS MILWARD Gent. whose face by general conception was very like the late King Though men from Law Love Loyalty do fall Here lies a Cabinet contain'd them all One in whose unconfined soul did dwell More worth then I can write or thou canst tell A man of merits he that further dives Shall find he had all in superlatives Much of that mans dear feature he had on In whose late loss so many are undone Loyal in love he was though strangely crost With some who had just cause to prize him most A man more full of faith ●nto his friends Remains not upon earth without self ends Died and lived well of whom my Muse thus sing He was a Copy of the best of Kings To his worthy friend Mr. THO. JORDAN SIR SInce you pleased not only to accept but to allow my last your commendation I have adventur'd once more to command my M●se to give you a visit and in that visit to present his respects to you who is desirous of the title of your friend to which let experience add the epithete of faithful HEN. STONESTREET To Mr. T. J. on his Poems MUch like a Pris'ner that hath long time lay In darksome Cells without a glimps of day Dazled at first approach into the light Can scarce distinguish wher 't be day or night So my abused Muse too long confin'd To silence by my negligence grew blind Her opticks are so weak she can't discry Without her Spectacles true Poetry Yet thanks to great Apollo she retains A love of those that write Poetick strains She loves the name of Poet though she be Unskilful in the Art of Poesie She loves the company of those that write Well-polisht verses though she ●an't indite Such as whose wits t' illustrate all their theams Fetch Pearls from th' depth of Heliconian streams This makes me hope they 'l thrive because desire Is th' only way to gain Poetick fire And if by your good favour she obtain More strength that grace shan't be receiv'd in vain For she hath vow'd if e're such glorious rayes Inlighten her to eccho forth your praise To the much honored HEN. STONESTREET Gent. on London Bridg. SIR I received from the innocent hand of your immaculate Muse such a salute as would invite a late sick man to be in love with visitations you do very aptly say that you have commanded your Muse to present it for without flattery I find you have no less command of the whole Quire then of Sir your servant THO. JORDAN To Mr. H. S. in answer of his ingenious Poem NOt much unlike that Captive which we see Fetter'd with favours chain'd with charity Do I appear your candid contribution Mysteriously designs my deminution Your love doth over-lay me I shall die If you persist not knowing how or why Your Poems make me lose my apprehension And soar above the sence of my ascention But why dear Stonestreet do you thus confine In your own Cabinet the noble Nine What have the Virgins done that they must be Compress'd with such divine captivity You are more strict then Statesmen they that sit At Westminster will not sequester wit But I repent this rudeness and think rather You do secure them like a Foster-father From ignorant pretenders or from those That wrong the Laws of God and man in Proes That nameless number which more evil do Then man can think or hell can look into You have done well in 't may the Muses be Fertil as is your own fidelity Whil'st I justly declare if you go on That London Bridg stands over Helicon On a Cavalier A Cavalier did in an high-way theft Lose one of 's arms but his right hand was left Slut the Annagram Lust SLoth needs must be a wrong to female Fame Since Slut and Lust lodg in one Annagram But this you may conclude if Sloth do hurt you To be a busie body is a vertue An Aerostical Eulogy composed on the name of his much respected Coz●n M. FRANCIS JORDAN of Ensham in the County of Oxon. From fair pretending in unfaithful friends Innocent looks that hide injurious ends Religious Traytors which two faces hold One of Divinity t'other of Gold Armies of such as do with one accord Ruine Religion to advance Gods Word New Reformation in an oath that stands Diameter to all which God commands Conjealing Winters and contagious Summers All such Divines as deal in Guns and Drummers Intemp'rate feasts false women and bad wine Neutrality in things that are divine Secret Consumptions and such deeds as do Wast wealth and wit Good Lord deliver you A Comparison QUick-wit reports that his wild Brother Randle Hath lov'd a Whore as a Moth loves a Candle On Lay-Elders ARe Elders now so vertuous in their wayes They were not found so in Susanna's dayes An Elegy and Epitaph on the death of the right worshipful SIR NATH. BRENT KNIGHT Doctor of Law and Iudg of the Pr●rogative Court who exchanged this present life in the year 1653. DRy eyes depart all that come hither shall Not go but flow unto our Funeral This Mare mortuum admits of none But such a Fleet whose sails with sighs are blown If any Merchant hath by war and weather Lost both his ship and lading bring him hither That Proselite which our Religion bears Must learn from us not to drop Beads but tears We hate Disputers they are of our Ranks Whose Maxims are to suffer and give thanks Our sorrows do not with that man accord Whose point of doctrine is upon his sword Therefore no States-man comes unless he con'd Vent as much water as he hath drawn bloud His Donatives are too severely dealt That wears the Key of heaven at his Belt And not for our Society the loss We have sustain'd allows of no such dross We have inter'd a man whose firtil name Enrich'd his Title and gave Spurs to Fame Whose noble well-weigh'd actions might impart New rules unto the Mathematique Art One whose Religion never understood How to gain heaven by the right of blood Who thought no man more desperate then he That could not bless and love his enemy That to be courteous only to our friends Is but the subtil issue of self-ends He was a man whose wide extended store Gave thankful invitations to the poor Who nere thought that mans charity profound That dol'd a farthing from a thousand pound One whose essential vertues