Kit Fowleâ— Was held an honest man though no good Bowler 44. On Dorothy Rich. Here resteth young Doll Rich that dainty drab Who troubled long with itch dy'd of the scab 45. On Ralph Ralph bids adue to pleasures good or ill But tels you true 't is much against his will 46. On Walter Moone Here lies Wat Moone that great Tobacconist Who dy'd too soon for lack of had I wist 47. On Iohn Cooling a Player-foole Death hath too soon remov'd from us Io. Cooling That was so well belov'd and liv'd by fooling 48. On a Welshman Who living least espy'd his life should leese By meer Metheglin dy'd and tosted Cheese 49. On Io. Long. Here sleep I. Long who liv'd till New-yearâ—-tide Full fourscore strong but then fell sick and dy'd 50. On Stephen Spooner Death hath time borrow'd of our neighbour Spooner Whose wife much sorrow'd that he di'd no sooner 51. On a Lawyer God works wonders now and than Here lyes a Lawyer dy'd an honest man 52. On a Waterman Here sleepâ— Will Slater why by deathâ— command Hath left the water to possesse the land 53. On Sir Francis Drake England his heart his Corps the waters have And that which raisd his fame became his grave 54. On a Gallant Who cloth of Tissue wore here flat doth lye Having no issue more than that in 's thigh 55. On Iohn Garret Gone is Iohn Garret who to all mens thinking For love to Claret kill'd himself with drinking 56. On notable Ned. Cause of the good nought must be said but good 'T is well for Ned that nought he understood 57. On a Taylour who dyed of the stitch Here lies a Taylour in this ditch Who liv'd and dyed by the stitch 58. On a travelling Beggar Here lies a Vagrant person whom our laws Of late grown strict denied passage 'cause He wandring thus therefore return he must From whence at first he hither came to dust 59. On a Mason So long the Mason wrought on others wals That his own house of clay to ruine fals No wonder spitefull death wrought his annoy He us'd to build and death seeks to destroy 60. On a Schoolmaster The Grammar School a long time taught I have Yet all my skill could not Decline the grave But yet I hope it one day will be shown In no Case save the Ablative alone 61. On Prince Henry I have no vein in Verse but if I could Distill on every word a Pearl I would Our sorrows pearls drop not from pens but eyes Whilst other Muses write mine onely cryes 62. On the death of Mr. Newcomin of Clare-hall in Cambridge Weep ye Clarenses weep all about For New-com-in is new gone out Weep not Clarenses weep not aâ— all He 's gone but from Clare to Trinity-Hal 63. On Hobson the Carrier Hobson what 's out of sight is out of mind Is gone and left his Letters here behind He that with so much paper us'd to meet Is now alas content to take one sheet 64. Another He that such carriage store was wont to have Is carried now himselfe unto his grave O strange he that in life ne'r made but one Six Carriers makes now he is dead and gone 65. Another Here Hobson lyes prest with a heavy load Who now is gone the old and common road The waggon he so lov'd so lov'd to ride That he was drawing on whilst that he dy'd 66. Another Hobson's not dead but Charls the Northern Swain Hath sent for him to draw his lightsome wain 67. On a Footman This nimble Footman ran away from death And here he rested being out of breath Here death him over-took made him his slave And sent him on an arrand to the grave 68. Iustus Lipsius Some have high mountains of Parian stone And some in brasse carve their inscription Some have their Tombs of costly marbles rear'd But in our tears onely are they interr'd 69. On a Child Like Birds of prey Death snatche away This harmlesse Dove Whose soule so pure Is now secure In heaven above 70. On a rich Gentleman Of woods and plains and hills and vales Of fields of meads of parks and pales Of all I had this I possesse I need no more I have no lesse 71. On a Child That flesh is grasse Its grace a flower Read ere you passe Whom worms devoure 72. On a Lock-smith A zealous Lock-smith dy'd of late Who by this time 's at heaven gate The reason why he will not knock Is 'cause he means to pick the lock 73. On a Collier Here lies the Collier Ienkin Dashes By whom death nothing gain'd he swore For living he was dust and ashes And being dead he is no more 74. On Dick Pinner Here lyes Dick Pinner O ungentle death Why didst thou rob Dick Pinner of his breath For living he by scraping of a pin Made better dust than thou hast made of him 75. On a Sack-sucker Good Reader blesse thee be assur'd The spirit of Sack lyes here immur'd Who havock't all he could come by For Sack and here quite sack'd doth ly 76. On a Child Into this world as stranger to an Inne This Child came Guest-wise where when it had bin A while and found nought worthy of his stay He onely broke his fast and went away 77. On a Candle Here lyes the Chandlers chiefest joy Here lyes the Schollers pale-fac'd boy Having nought else but skin and bone Dy'd of a deep Consumption 78. On T. H. the Pannier-man of the Temple Here lyes Tom Hacket this Marble under Who often made the Cloysters thunder He had a horn and when he blew iâ— Call'd many a Cuckold that never knew it 79. On a young Infant The life of Man Is but a span The common saying is But death did pinch His to an inch Ere he could say what 's this Yet he hath gain'd not lost thereby Changing time for eternity 80. On Mr. Calfes death Heaven of his soul take charge for he Of all his dayes liv'd but the halfe Who might have grown to be an Oxe But dyed as you see a Calfe 81. On Bolus If gentlenesse could tame the Fates or wit Delude them Bolus had not dyed yet But one that death o'r-rules in judgement sits And sayes our sins are stronger then our wits 82. On a Clowne Softly tread this earth upon For here lyes our Corydon Who through care to save his sheep Watch'd too much Oh let him sleep 83. On a Child As carefull Nurses on their beds doe lay Their babes which would too long the wantons play So to prevent my youths ensuing crimes Nature my Nurse laid me to bed betimeâ— 85. On a Musitian Be not offended at our sad complaint You Quire of Angels that have gain'd a Saint Where all perfection met in skill and voyce We mourne our losse but yet commend your choyce 85. On a Gardener Could he forget his death that every houre Was emblem'd to it by the fading flowre Should he not mind his end yes sure he must That
still was conversant 'mongst beds of dust 86. On a Drunkard Bibax the Drunkard while he liv'd would say The more I drink the more methinks I may But see how death hath prov'd his saying just For he hath drunk himselfe as dry as dust 87. On a Child Tread softly passenger for here doth lye A dainty Jewell of sweet Infancy A harmlesse babe that onely came and cry'd In baptism to be wash'd from sin and dy'd 88. Another In this marble Casket lyes A matchlesse Jewell of rich priâ—e Whom nature in the worlds disdain But shew'd and put it up again 89. On Mr. Sands Who would live in others breath Fame deceives the dead mans trust When our names doe change by death Sands I was and now am dust 90. On Mr. Goad Go adde this Verse to Goad's herse For Goad is gone but whither Goad himselfe is gone to God 'T was deaths Goad drove him thither 91. On Monday Hallowed be the Sabbath And farewell all worldly pelf The week begins on Tuesday For Munday hath hang'd himself 92. On a Child Here a pretty Baby lyes Sung asleep with Lullabies Pray be silent and not stir Th' easie earth that covers her 93. On a Matron Here lies a wife was chast a mother blest A modest Matron all these in one chest Sarah unto her Mate Mary to God Martha to men whilst here she had aboad 94. In Latine thus Vxor casta Parens felix Matrona pudica Sara viro mundo Martha Maria Deo 95. On a Souldier When I was young in Wars I shed my blood Both for my King and for my Countries good In elder years my care was chief to be Souldier to him that shed his blood for me 96. On Mr. Dumbelow that dyed of the winde Collicke Dead is Dick Dumbelow Would you the reason know Could his tail have but spoken His stout heart had not broken 97. On Mr. Kitchins death Kitchin lyes here for so his name I found I see Death keeps his Kitchin under ground And the poor worms that flesh of late did eat Devour their Kitchin now for want of meat 98. On Isabella a Curtezan He who would write an Epitaph Whereby to make fair Is'bell laugh Must get upon her and write well Here underneath lies Isabell. 99. On a vertuous wife In brief to speak thy praise let this suffice Thou wert a wife most loving modest wise Of children carefull to thy neighbours kind A worthy Mistresse and of liberall mind 100. On Mr. Christopher Lawson Death did not kill unjustly this good man But death in death by death did shew his power His pious deeds and thoughts to heaven fore-ran There to prepare his soule a blessed bower 101. On a Welshman Here lyes puryed under these stones Shon ap Williams ap Shinkyn ap Shones Her was porn in Whales her was kill'd in France Her went to Cot by a very mis-shance La ye now 102. On Mr. Carter burnt by the great powder-mischance in Finsbury Here lies an honest Carter yet no clown Unladen of his cares his end the Crown Vanish'd from hence even in a cloud of smoke A blown-up Citizen and yet not broke 103. On a Lady dying in Childbed Born at the first to bring another forth She leavâ— the world to leave the world her worth Thus Phoenix-like as she was born to bleed Dying her selfe renews it in her seed 104. On a Faulconer Death with her talonâ— having seiz'd this prey After a tedious flight trusâ—'d him away We mark'd him here he fell whence he shall rise At call till then unretriv'd here he lyes 105. On Ioan Truman who had an issue in her legge Here lyes crafty Ioan deny it who can Who liv'd a false maid and dy'd a Truman And this trick she had to make up her cunning Whilst one leg stood still the other was running 106. On a youth Now thou hast heaven for merit but 't is strange Morality should envy at thy change God thought us unfit for such as thee And made thee consort of eternity We grieve not then that thou to heaven art taken But that thou hast thy friends so soon forsaken 107. On Prince Henry Did he dye young O no it could not be For I know few that liv'd so long as he Till God and all men lov'd him then behold The man that lives so long must needs be old 108. On borne before his time Greiv'd at the world and times this early Bloom Look'd round and sigh'd and stole into his Tomb His fall was like his Birth too quick this Rose Made hast to spread and the same hast to close Here lyes his dust but his best Tomb's fled hence For Marble cannot last like Innocence 109. On a very fat man Under this pebble stone Here fast sleepeth one And that is not two Yet was without doubt Far bigger about Then both I and you His kidneys encreast So much that his wast Was hooped all round But his girdle death cuts And down fell his guts ' Bouts heels to the ground 110. On Iohn Newter Reader Iohn Newter who erst plaid The Jack on both sides here is laid Who like the herb Iohn indifferent Was not for King or Parliament Yet fast and loose he could not play With death he took him at a Bay What side his soule hath taken now God or Devil we hardly know But this is certain since he dy'd He hath been mist of neither side 111. On Hocas Pocas Here Hocas lyes with his tricks and his knocks Whom death hath made sure as his Juglers box Who many hath cozen'd by his leiger-demain Iâ— presto convey'd and here underlain Thus Hocas he 's here and here he is not While death plaid the Hocas and brought him to th'pot 112. On a Child of two years old being born and dying in July Here is laid a Iuly flowre With surviving tears bedew'd Not despairing of that houre When her spring shall be renew'd Ere she had her summer seen She was gather'd fresh green 113. On a Cobler Death at a Coblers door oft made a stand And alwayes found him on the mending hand At last came death in very foul weather And ript the sole from the upper leather Death put a trick upon him and what was 't The Cobler call'd for 's Awle death brought his last 114. On a young Gentlewoman Nature in this small volume was about To perfect what in woman was left out Yet carefull least a piece so well begun Should want preservatives when she had done Ere she could finish what she undertook Threw dust upon it and shut up the Book 115. On a Scholler Forbear Friend t'unclaspe this book Only in the forefront look For in it have errours bin Which made the Author call it in Yet know this 't shall have more worth At the second coming forth 116. On a young Woman The body which within this earth is laid Twice six weeks knew a wife a Saint a maid Fair maid chast wife pure Saint yet 't
his self He hated men men did not love him No evill but his own might move him He was and was earths load and care He is and is hells brand and share 154. On Iohn Dawson Butler Dawson the Butler's dead although I think Poets were nere insusd with single drink I le spend a farthing Muse a watery Verse Will serve the turn to cast upon his Herse If any cannot weep among us here Take off his cup and so squeze out a teare Weep O ye barrels let your drippings fall In trickling streams make wast more prodigall Then when our beer was good that Iohn may float To Stix in beer and lift up Charrons boat With wholsome waves and as the Conduits ran VVith Claret at the Coronation So let your channels flow with single Tiff For Iohn I hope is crown'd take off your whiff Ye men of Rosemary and drink up all Remembring 't is a Butlers Funerall Had he been Master of good duble beer My life for his Iohn Dawson had been here 155. On Turn-Coat Passenger Stay Reade Walke Here Lyeth ANDREW TURNCOAT WHO WAS NEITHER SLAVE NOR SOULDIER NOR PHYSITIAN NOR FENCER NOR COBLER NOR FILCHER NOR LAWYER NOR USURER BUT ALL WHO LIVED NEITHER IN CITY NOR COUNTRY NOR AT HOME NOR ABROAD NOR AT SEA NOR AT LAND NOR HERE NOR ELSEWHERE BUT EVERY WHERE WHO DIED NEITHER OF HUNGER NOR POYSON NOR HATCHET NOR HALTER NOR DOGGE NOR DISEASE BUT OF ALL TOGETHER 1.1 H. BEING NEITHER HIS DEBTOR NOR HEIRE NOR KINSMAN NOR FRIEND NOR NEIGHBOUR BUT ALL IN HIS MEMORY HAVE ERECTED THIS NEITHER MONUMENT NOR TOMB NOR SEPULCHER BUT ALL WISHING NEITHER EVIL NOR WEL NEITHER TO THEE NOR TO ME NOR HIM BUT ALL UNTO ALL. 156. On a Dyer Though death the Dyer colour-lesse hath made Yet he dies pale and will not leave his trade But being dead the means yet doth not lack To dye his friends cloth into mourning black Some sure foresaw his death for they of late Usd to exclaim upon his dying Fate And weak and faint he seem'd oft times t' have been For to change colours often he was seen Yet there no matter was so foul but he Would set a colour on it handsomely Death him no unexpected stroke could give That learnt to dye since he began to live He shall yet prove what he before had try'd And shall once more live after he hath dy'd 157. On a disagreeing Couple Hic jacet ille qui centies mille Did scold with his Wife Cum illo jacet illa quae communis in villa Did quiâ—tance his life His name was Nick the which was sick And that very male Her name was Nan who loved well a man So Gentlemen vale 158. On a Foot-boy that dyed with overmuch running Base Tyrant death thus to assail one tir'd Who scarce his latest breath being left expir'd And being too too cruell thus to stay So swift a course at length ran quite away But pretty boy be sure it was not death That left behind thy body out of breath Thy soul and body running in a race Thy soul held out thy body tir'd apace Thy soul gained and left that lump of clay To rest it selfe untill the latter day 159. On a Scrivener Here to a period is the Scrivener come This is the last sheet his full point this Tomb. Of all aspersionsâ— excuse him not 'T is known he liv'd not without many a blot Yet he no ill example shew'd to any But rather gave good Copies unto many â—e in good Letters hath alwayes been bred And hath writ more then many men have read He rulers had at his command by Law And though he could not hang yet he could draw He far more bond-men had and made then any A dash alone of his pen ruin'd many That not without good reason we might call His Letters great or little Capitall Yet is the Scriveners fate as sure as just When he hath all done then he falls to dust 160. On Mr. P. Gray Reader stay And if I had no more to say But here doth lye till the last day All that is left of Philip Gray It might thy patience richly pay For if such men as he could dye What surety of life have thou and I 161. On a Chandler How might his dayes end that made weeks or he That could make light here laid in darknesse be Yet since his weeks were spent how could he chuse But be depriv'd of light and his trade lose Yet dead the Chandler is and sleeps in peace No wonder long since melted was his greace It seems that he did evill for day-light He hated and did rather wish the night Yet came his works to light and were like gold Prov'd in the fire but could not tryall hold His candle had an end and deaths black night Is an extinguisher of all his light 162. On a Smith Farewell stout Iron-side not all thine Art Could make a shield against deaths envious Dart. Without a fault no man his life doth passe For to his Vice the Smith addicted was He oft as Choler is increast by fire Was in a fume and much inclin'd to ire He had so long been usd to forge that he Was with a black-coal markt for forgery But he for witnesse needed not to care Who but a Black-smith was though ne'r so fair And opportunities he needed not That knew to strike then when their'n was hot As the door-Nailes he made hee 's now as dead He them and death him hath knockt on the head 163. On a man drown'd in the Snow Within a fleece of silent waters drown'd Before my death was known a grave I found The which exil'd my life from her sweet home For grief straight froze it selfe into a tombe One element my angry Fate thought meet To be my death grave tomb and winding sheet Phaebus himself an Epitaph had writ But blotting many ere he thought one fit He wrote untill my grave and tomb were gone And 't was an Epitaph that I had none For every one that passed by that way Without a sculture read that there I lay Here now the second time untomb'd I lye And thus much have the best of Destiny Corruption from which onely one was free Devour'd my grave but did not feed on me My first grave took me from the race of men My last shall give me back to life agen 164. On Doctor Hackets wifâ— Drop mournfull eyes your pearly trickling tears Flow streams of sadnesse down the spangled sphears Fall like the tumbling Cataracts of Nile Make deaf the world with cryes let not a smile Appear let not an eye be seen to sleep Nor slumber onely let them serve to weep Her dear lamented death who in her life Was a religious loyall loving wife Of Children tender to an husband kind Th' undoubted symtomes of a vertuous mind Which makes her glorious 'bove the highest pole Where Angels sing sweet Requiums to her soule She liv'd a none-such did a none-such dye
loveth brabling as he loves his life Leave him for dead when he leaves stirring strife 31. In Paulum Paul what my cloak doth hide thou fain wouldst know Wer 't to be seen I would not cover'â— so 32. Of sleep and death That death is but a sleep I not deny Yet when I next would sleep I would not dye 33. Vpon Methusus Methusus ask'd me why I call'd him sot I answer made because he lov'd the pot For while Methusus busie is with it The fool I 'm sure 's as busie with his wit 34. On Thraso Thraso goes lame with blows he did receive In a late duell if you 'l him believe 35. Newes When News doth come if any would discusse The Letter of the word resolve it thus News is convey'd by letter word or mouth And comes to us from North East West and South 36. Of Rufus Rufus had rob'd his Host and being put to it Said I am an arrant rogue if I did doe it 37. Of Marcus When Marcus fail'd a borrowed sum to pay Unto his friend at the appointed day T were superstition for a man he sayes To be a strict observer of set dayes 38. Of a Thief A thief arrested and in custody Under strong guards of armed company Askt why they held him so Sir quoth the chief We hold you for none other then a thief 39. Of Motion Motion brings heat and thus we see it prov'd Most men are hot and angry when they 'r mov'd 40. Formall the Fashionist Formall all form and fashion is for matter Who sayes he sees it in him doth but flatter Open and search him you shall quickly find With what course Canvas his soft silks are lin'd 41. Ad Scriptorem quend Halfe of your Book is to an Index growne You give your Book Contents your Reader nonâ— 42. Riches Gold 's th' onely God Rich men bear rule Money makes Majesty Rich Pluto not plain Plato now Speaks with applause most high 43. On Sextus Sextus doth wish his wife in Heaven were Where can she have more happinesse then there 45. Secreta nobis Tassus from Temple-stairs by water goes To Westminster and back to Temple rowes Belike he loves not trot too much the street Or surbait on the stones his tender feet Tut come there 's something in 't must not be known But Sir beleev 't The debt is not his own 45. Of Text-corruptors Bad Commentators spoyle the best of Books So God gives meat they say the Devil sends Cookâ— 46. On a Drawer drunk Drawer with thee now even is thy Wine For thou hast pierc'd his Hogs-head and he thine 47. Vpon the weights of a Clock I wonder time 's so swift when as I see Upon her heels such lumps of lead to be 48. On Cynna Because I am not of a Gyants stature Despise me noâ— nor praise thy liberall nature For thy huge limbs that you are great 't is true And that I 'm little in respect of you The reason of our growths is eas'ly had You many had perchance I but one Dad. 49 On Alastrus Alastrus hath nor coyn nor spirit nor wit I think hee 's only then for Bedlam â—it 50. Of Mendacio Mendacio pretends to tell men News And that it may be such himselfe doth use To make it but that will no longer need Let him tell truth it will be News indeed 51. On Landanno Landanno in his gallant bravery Ruffled his Silks lookt big and thrust me by And still as often as he meets me so My home-spun cloth must to the channell go Advise thee well Landanno children note And fools admire thee for thy velvet coat I keep Landanno in repute with such As think they cannot scorn poor thee too much But thou canst squire fine Madams thou canst vail Thy Cap and Feather cringe and wag thy tail Most decently Now by you stars that shiâ—e So thou transcend'st me Take the wall 't is thine 52. On Shanks Shanks swears he fasts and always cryes for Beef O how he fasts that 's how fast eats the Theef 53. Cito bene Sir Iohn at Mattins prayes he might dispatch Who by true promise is to bowl a match 54. Of Pertinax It will it must it shall be so Saith Pertinax but what 's the reason trow Nay that I cannot tell nor doth he know 55. To valiant Dammee Dammee thy brain is valiant 't is confest Thou more that with it every day dar'st jest Thy self into fresh braules but cal'd upon With swearing Damme answer'st every one Keep thy self there and think thy valour right He that dares Damne himself dares more then fight 56. On Cornuto Cornuto is not jealous of his wife Nor e're mistrusts her too lascivious life Ask him the reason why he doth forbear Hee 'l answer straight it cometh with a fear 57. On a Shrew A froward Shrew being blam'd because she show'd Not so much reverence as by right she ow'd Unto her Husband she reply'd he might Forbear complaint of me I do him right His will is mine he would bear rule and I Desire the like onely in sympathy 58. Of Lawlesse Lawlesse the worst times liketh best why i st Because then Lawlesse may doe what he list 59. A rich Curre Dru dares good men deprave because hee 's rich Whether more fool or Knave I know not which 60. On a Youth married to an Old Woman A smooth-fac'd youth what wedded to an old Decrepit Shrew such is the power of Gold Thy fortune I dare tell perchance thou 'lt have At Supper dainties but in Bâ—d a grave 61. On a Fly in a glasse A Fly out of his glasse a guest did take E're with the liquor he his thirst would slake When he had drunk his fill again the Fly Into the glasse he put and said though I Love not Flyes in my drink yet others may Whose humour I nor like nor will gain-say 62. On Collimus If that Collimus any thing doe lend Or Dog or Horse or Hawk unto his friend He to endear the borrowers love the more Saith he ne'r â—ent it any one before Nor would to any but to him His wife Having observ'd these speeches all her life Behinde him forks her fingers and doth cry To none but you I 'de do this courtesie 63. To Loquax Loquax to hold thy tongue would do thee wrong For thou wouldst be no man but for thy tongue 64. Good wits jump Against a post a scholler chanc'd to strike At unawares his head like will to like Good wits will jump quoth he if that be true The title of a block-head is his due 65. On Womens Masks It seems that Masks do women much disgrace Sith when they wear them they do hide their face 66. Of Sawcy the Intruder Sawcy though uninvited is so rude As into every comp'ny to intrude But he 's no fit companion for any Who all ways makes the number one too many 67. Vpon a pair of Tongs The burnt child dreads the fire if this be true Who first invented
to kisse his foot if he were bidden My foot said he nay that were too submisse You three foot higher well deserve to kisse 250. Non lubens loquitur Gluto at meals is never heard to talk For which the more his chaps and chin do walk When every one that sits about the bord Makes sport to ask what Gluto ne'r a word He forc'd to answer being very loath Iâ— almost choak'd speaking and eating both 251. On Philos. If Philos none but those are dead doe praise I would I might displease him all his dayes 252. The promise-breaker Ventus doth promise much but still doth break So all his promises are great and weak Like bubbles in the water round and light Swelling so great that they are broke out-right 253. Change What now we like anon we disapprove The new successor drives away old love 254. On a passing Bell. This dolefull musick of impartiall death Who danceth after danceth out of breath 255. Nummos demona jungit Bat bids you swell with envy till you burst So he be rich and may his coffers fill Bringing th' example of the Fox that 's curst And threatning folks who have least power to killâ— For why 't is known his trade can never fall That hath already got the Devill and all 256. Nil gratum ratione carens Paulus a Pamphlet doth in prose present Unto his Lord the fruits of idle time Who far more carelesse then therewith content Wisheth it were converted into rime Which done and brought him at another season Said now 't is rime before nor rime nor reason 257. Non cessat perdere lusor Ask Ficus how his luck at dicing goes Like to the tide quoth he it ebbes and flows Then I suppose his chance cannot be good For all men know 't is longer ebbe than flood 258. Womens policy To weep oft still to flatter sometime spin Are properties women excell men in 259. Volucrem sic decipit auceps Hidrus the Horse-courser that cunning mate Doth with the buyers thus equivocate Claps on his hand and prays he may not thrive If that his gelding be not under five ☞ 260. Perdat qui caveat emptor Nor lesse meant Promus when that vow he made Then to give o'r his cousening Tapsters trade Who check'd for short and frothy measure swore He never would from henceforth fill pot more 261. On Death How base hath sin made man to fear a thing Which men call Mors which yet hath lost all sting And is but a privation as we know Nay is no word if we exempt the O Then let good men the fear of it defie All is but O when they shall come to dye 262. To Mr. Ben Iohnson demanding the reason why he call'd his playes works Pray tell me Ben. where doth the mystery lurk What others call a play you call a work 263. Thus answer'd by a friend in Ben Iohnsons defence The Authors friend thus for the Author sayes Bens plays are works when others works are plays 264. On Crambo a lowsie shifter By want of shift since Lice at first are bred And after by the same increast and fed Crambo I muse how you have Lice so many Since all men know you shift as much as any 265. Ad Aristarchum Be not agriev'd my humorous lineâ— afford Of looser language here and there a word Who undertakes to sweep a common sink I cannot blame him though his broom do stink 266. In Aulum Aulus gives naught men say though much he crave Yet I can tell to whom the Pox he gave 267. On covetous persons Patrons are Latrons then by this Th' are worst of greedy people Whose cognizance a Wolfs head is And in his mouth a steeple 268. On a Dyer Who hath time hath life that he denies This man hath both yet still he dies 269. Non verbera sed verba Two Schollars late appointed for the field Must which was weakest to the other yield The quarrell first began about a word Which now should be decided by the sword But e'r they drew there fell that alteration As they grew friends again by disputation 270. Love and Liberty â—ove he that will it bâ—st likes mee â—o have my neck from loves yoke free 271 To a neat reader â—hou say'st my verses are rude ragged ruffe â—ot like some others rimes smooth dainty stuffeâ— â—pigrams are like Satyrs rough without â—ike Chesnuts sweet take thou the kernell out 272. Of Letting â—n bed a young man with his old wife lay O wife quoth he I 've let a thing to day By which I fear I am a loser much His wife replyes youths bargains still are such So turning from him angry at her heart She unawares let out a thundring O wife quoth hee no loser am I now A marv'lous saver I am made by you Young men that old wives have may never sell Because old wives quoth hee let things so well 273. Sublata causa c. Why studies Silvester no more the lawes 'T is thought Duck-lane has tane away the cause 274. Sapiat qui dives oportet 'T is known how well I live sayes Romeo And whom I list I 'le love or will despise Indeed it 's reason good it should be so For they that wealthy are must needs be wise But this were ill if so it come to passe That for your wealth you must be beg'd an 〈◊〉 275. In Dossum Dosse riding forth the wind was very big And strained court'â—ie with his Perriwig Leaving his sconce behind so voyd of haire As Esops Crow might break her Oyster there Fool he to think his hair could tarry fast When Boreas tears forrests with a blast 276. Post dulcia finis amarus Ienkin a Welshman that had suits in Law Journying to London chanc'd to steal a Cow For which pox on her luck as ne'r mon saw Was burnt within the fist and know not how Being ask'd if well the Lawes with him did stand Hur have hur now quoth Ienkin in hur hand 277. Feminae Iudificantur viros Kind Katharine to her Husband kisâ— these words Mine own sweet Will how dearly doe I love thee If true quoth VVill the world no such affords And that it 's true I durst his warrant bee For ne'r heard I of woman good or ill But alwayes loved best her owne sweete will 278. Ad Tusserum Tusser They tell me when thou wert alive Thou teaching thrift thy self couldst never thrive So like the whâ—â—stone many men are wont To sharpen others when themselves are blunt 229. Praestat videri quam esse Clitus with clients is well customed That hath the Lawes but little studied No matter Clitus so they bring their fees How ill the case and thy advice agrees 280. Tunc â—ua res agitur A jealous Marchant that a Sailor meâ— Ask'd him the reason why he meant to marry Knowing what ill their absence might beget That still at Sea constrained are to tarry Sir quoth the saylor think you that so strange 'T is done the
dead wife for mine alive 449. Meum Tuum Megge lets her husband boast of rule and riches But she rules all the roast and wears the breeches 450. Deaths trade Death is a Fisherman the world we see His Fish-pond is and we the Fishes be He sometimes Angler-like doth with us play And slily takes us one by one away Diseases are the murthering-books which he Doth catch us with the bait mortality Which we poor silly fish devour til strook At last too late we feel the bitter hook At other times he brings his net and then At once sweeps up whole Cities ful of men Drawing up thousands at a draught and saves Onely some few to make the others graves His Net some raging pestilence now he Is not so kind as other Fishers be For if they take one of the smaller â—rye They throw him in again he shall not dye But death is sure to kill all he can get And all is Fish with him that comes to Net 451. Oâ— Bice Bice laughs when no man speakâ— and doth protest It is his own breech there that breakâ— the jest 452. Valiant in drinke Who onely in his Cups will â—ight is like A clock that must be oil'd wel ere it strike 453. Master and Scholler A Pedant ask'd a Puny ripe and bold In an hard frost the Latine word for cold I 'l tell you out of hand quoth he for lo I have it at my fingers ends you know 454. Gasters great belly Gaster did seem to me to want his eyes For he could neither see his legs nor thighs But yet it was not so he had his sight Onely his belly hanged in his light 455. Drunken Dick. When Dick for want of drunken mates grows sick Then with himself to work goes faithfull Dick. The buttery dore t'himself he shutteth close That done then goes the pot straight wayes to 's nose A health quoth noble Dick each hogs-head than Must seeming pledge this honest faithfull man But straight from kindnes Dick to humors grows And then to th'barrels he his valour shows Throwing about the cups the pots the glasses And rails at the tuns calling them drunken asses Ne'r ceasing this same faithfull coyl to keep Till under th'hogshead Dick fals fast asleep 456. In Sextinum A pretty block Sextinus names his Hat So much the fitter for his head by that 457. Sine sanguine Ralph challeng'd Robin time and place appointed Their Parents heard on 't O how they lamented But good luck was they soon were freed of fear The one ne'r meant the other came not there 458. On humane Bodies Our bodies are like shooes which off we cast Physick their Cobler is and death the Last 459. On Trencherman Tom shifts the Trenchers yet he never can Endure that luke-warm name of Servingman Serve or not serve let Tom doe what he can He is a serving who 's a Trencher-man 460. A Toothlesse-pratler Nature the teeth doth as an hedge ordain The nimble frisking tongue for to contain No marvel then since that the hedge is out If Fuscus tongue walketh so fast about 461. A musicall Lady A Lady fairer far then fortunate In dancing thus o'r-shot her self of late The Musick not in tune pleasd not her mind For which he with the Fidlers fault did find Fidlers quoth she your Fiddles tune for shame But as she was a speaking of the same To mend the consort let she did a F. Whereas the fidling knaves thus did her greet Madam your pipe 's in tune it plays most sweet Strike up qd they but then the knaves did smile And as you pâ—pâ— wee 'l dance another while At which away the blushing Lady flings But as she goes her former notes she sings 462. In Laurettam Lauretta is laid o'r how I 'l not say And yet I think two manner of wayes I may Doubly laid o'r videlicet her face Laid o'r with colours and her coat with lace 463. On Macer You call my verses toy's th' are so 't is true Yet they are better then ought comes from you 464. Briskap the Gallant Though thou hast little judgement in thy head More than to dresse thee drink and goe to bed Yet may'st thou take the wall th' way shalt lead Sith Logick wills that simple things precede 465. Necessity hath no Law Florus did beat his Cook and 'gan to sweaee Because his meat was rotten roasted there Peace good Sir quoth the Cook Need hath no Law 'T is rotten roasted 'cause 't was rotten raw 466. In Carientium Garentius might have wedded where he woo'd But he was poor his means was nothing good 'T was but for lack of living that he lost her For why no penny now no Pater noster 467. On Harpax Harpax gave to the poor all by his will Because his heir should not faign'd tears distill 468. To a Barber Tonsorius onely lives by cutting haire And yet he brags that Kings to him sit bare Me thinks he should not brag and boast of it For he must stand to beggars while they sit 469. Vpon Grandâ—orto The morrow after just Saint Georges day Grandâ—orto piteous drunk sate in a ditch His hands by 's side his gelding stray'd away His scarlet hose and doublet very rich With mud and mire all beastly raid and by His feather with his close-stool-hat did ly We ask'd the reason of his sitting there Zounds 'cause I am King Solomon quoth he And in my Throne then for the Love we beare Replyed my selfe unto your Majesty Wee 'l pull you out henceforth wish your grace Would speak your Proverbs in a warmer place 470. The Fencer and Physick Doctor Lie thus the Fencer cryes thus must you guard Thus must you slip thus point thus pass thus ward And if you kill him Sir this trick learn then With this same trick you may kill many men A Doctor standing by cryes Fencing fool Both you he to me may come to school Thou dost but prate my deeds shall show my skil Where thou hurt'st one an hundred I doe kill 471. In Lusiam Lusia who scorns all others imitations Cannot abide to be out-gone in fashions She sayes she cannot have a hat or ruffe A gown a peticoat a band or cuffe But that these Citizens whom she doth hate Will get into 't at ne'r so dear a rate But Lusia now doth such a fashion wear Whose hair is curl'd and costs her som what dear That there 's no Citizen what e'r she be Can be transform'd so like an Owl as she 472. Kisses Give the food that satisfies a Guest Kisses are but dry banquets to a feast 473. A Civilian A lusty old grown-grave gray-headed Sire Stole to a wench to quench his lusts desire She ask'd him what profession he might be I am a Civil Lawyer Girle quoth he A Civil Lawyer Sir you make me muse Your talk 's too broad for Civil men to use If Civil Lawyers are such bawdy men Oh what quoth she are other Lawyers then 474. Rainaldo and
yeeld her body as the Law requires 509. Nescis quid serus vesper vehat Lynâ—us deviseth as he lyes in bed What new apparrell he were best to make him So many fashions flow within his head As much he fears the Taylor will mistake him But he mistook him not that by the way Did for his old suit lay him up that day 510. To Ficus Ficus hath lost his nose but knows not how And that seems strange to ev'ry one that knows it Me thinks I see it written in his brow How wherefore and the cause that he did loose it To tell you true Ficus I thus suppose 'T was some French Caniball bit off your nose 511. On a painted Curtezan Whosoever saith thou sellest all doth jest Thou buy'st thy beauty that sels all the rest 512. Of Arnaldo Arnaldo free from fault demands his wife Why he is burthen'd with her wicked life Quoth she good husband doe not now repent I far more burthens bear yet am content 513. Labor improbus omnia vincit Glogo will needs be knighted for his lands Got by the labour of his fathers hands And hopes to prove a Gentleman of note For he hath bought himself a painted coat 514. Quis nisi mentis inops Ware proffer'd stinks yet stay good Proverb stay Thou art deceiv'd as Clients best can say Who proferring trebble fees for single care It 's well accepted gold it is such ware 515. On a friend indeed A reall friend a Cannon cannot batter With nom'nall friends a Squib's a perilous matter 516. On an Italian Proverb Three women met upon the Market day Do make a Market they do use to say In Italy and why their tongues do walk As loud as if an hundred men did talk One hearing this swore had his wife been there And made a fourth there might have been a Faire 517. Mans ingresse and egresse Nature which head-long into life did throng us With our feet forwards to our grave doth bring us What is lesse ours then this our borrow'd breath We stumble into life we goe to death 518. On bad Debtors Bad debtors are good lyers for they say I 'l pay you without faile on such a day Come is the day to come the debt is still So still they lye though stand in debt they will But Fulcus hath so oft ly'd in this wise That now he lyes in Ludgate for his lyes 519. On a Iustasse A Iustice walking o'r the frozen Thames The Ice about him round began to crack He said to 's man here is some danger Iames I pray thee help me over on thy back 520. Genitoris nesciens Tom asks no fathers blessing if you note him And wiser he unlesse he knew who got him 521. To a sleeping Talker In sleep thou talk'st un-forethought mysteries And utter'st un-foreseen things with close eyes How wel wouldst thou discourse if thou wert dead Since sleep deaths image such fine talk hath bred 522. Omne simile non est idem Together as we walk'd a friend of mine Mistook a painted Madam for a Signe That in a window stood but I acquainted Told him it was no wooden sign was painted But Madam Meretrix yea true said he Yet 't is a little signe of modesty 523. Tandem manifestum Katharine that hid those Candles out of sight May well conceive they 'l come at length to light 524. Qui ebrius laudat temperantiam Severus likes not these unseason'd lines Of rude absurdities times foul abuse To all posterities and their assignes That might have been saith he to better use What senslesse gull but reason may convince Or jade so dull but being kick'd will wince 525. Quantum mutatus ab illo Would any deem Manasses now the man That whilome was not worth a wooden kan Doubtlesse the Dunce in something doth surpasse Yet his red nose is still the same it was 526. On wisedome and vertue Wise-men are wiser than good-men what then 'T is better to be wiser than wise men 527. On Ducus Ducus keeps house and it with reason stands That he keep house hath sold away his lands 528. Mysus and Mopsa Mysus and Mopsa hardly could agree Striving about superiority The Text which saith that man and wife are one Was the chief Argument they stood upon She held they both one woman should become He held they should be man and both but one So they contended daily but the strife Could not be ended till both were one wife 529. On Photinus I met Photinus at the B Court Cited as he said by a Knave relator I ask'd him wherefore he in laughing sort Told me it was but for a Childish matter How e're he laught it out he lied not Indeed 't was childish for the child he got 530. On Castriotes See see what love is now betwixt each fist Since Castriotes had a scabby wrist How kindly they by clawing one another As if the left hand were the right hands brother 531. New Rhetorique Good Arguments without coyn will not stick To pay and not to say 's best Rhetorick 532. To some kinde Readers This Book of mine I liken to a glasse Wherein the fool may look and laugh his fill He having done with 't Readers as ye passe Here take and use it as long as you will 533. Est mihi Divi parens Owinus wondreth since he came from Wales What the description of this Isle might be That ne'r had seen but mountaines hils and dales Yet would he stand and boast on 's pedegree From Rice ap Richard sprung from Dick a Cow Be cot was right good gentleman law ye now 434. Principia sordida Bassus hath Lands good store and leases Farms Whose Mother Milk-pails bore e'r he bore arms 535. On Thirsites Although Thirsites have a filthy face And staring eyes and little outward grace Yet this he hath to make amends for all Nature her selfe is not more naturall 536. On Zoilus If Souldiers may obtain four Terms of war Muskets should be the pleaders Pikes the bar For black bags Bandeliers Jackets for gowns Angels for fees we 'll take no more crackt crowns 537. On a long beard Thy beard is long better it would thee fit To have a shorter beard and longer wit 538. On my selfe Who seeks to please all men each way And not himselfe offend He may begin to work to day But God knows when hee 'l end 539. Nimium ne crede colori Battas believed for a simple truth That yonder gilt-spur spruce and Velvet youth Was some great personage or worthy weight Untill one told him he was but a Knight A Knaight quoth Battas vaith I chud a zworne A hod not bin lass then zome Gen-man borne 540. Silens simplex Will would seem wise and many words let passe Speaking but little 'cause he 's such an 541. To the mis-interpreter Cease gaul'd back guilt these inscious lines to mince The world wil know y' are rub'd if once ye wince They hem within their seeming Critique wall Particularly
work remaines one part is past And here my Ship rides having Anchor cast 707. On Bearill Bearill because his wife is somewhat ill Uncertain in her health indifferent still He turns her out of doors without reply Wondring at which I askt the reason why In sicknesse and in health sayes he I 'm bound Onely to keep her either weak or sound But now shee 's neither he replies you 'l see Shee 'l quickly now or mend or end sayes he 708. On Bib. Wisdome doth teach us silence now Bib is With drink made speechlesse is he not then wise 709. On Silly Silly by chance did loose his Diary Of wit which he had got in company No marvel he now so mute and pensive sits How can he choose since he hath lost his wits 710. Ad sesquipidales poetastros Hence Brauron's God to Tauriminion And you Levaltoring Corybantâ— be gon Fly thundering Bronsterops to Hippocrene And Mauros to Nymph-nursing Mytelene Grisly Megaera's neâ—romantique spell Depart to black nights Acherontick cell Avaunt transformed Epidaurian Unto th'Antipod Isles of Trabroban Away Cyllenius plumy-pinnion'd God With thy peace making wand snakecharming rod And all the rest not daring look upon Vranus blood-born brood and fell Typhon Chimera's victor great Bellerophon Thou vanquisher of Spanish Geryon Stout Asdruball Sicilian Lord of yore Thou that destroy'dst the Caledonian bore Couragious conqueror of Cretes Minotaure Thou pride of Mermeno's cloudy Semitaure Perseus whose marble stone transforming shield Enforc'd the Whale Andromeda to yeeld You Argonautes that scour'd Syndromades And passd the quick-sands of Symplegades Help Demogorgon King of heaven and earth Chaos Lucina at Litigiums birth The world with child looks for delivery Of Canibals or Poetophagy A devilish brood from Ericthonius From Iphidemia Nox and Erebus Chide Pegasus for op'ning Helicon And Poets damn Pyry-Phlegeton Or make this monstrous birth abortive be Or else I will shake hands with Poetry Nihil sic nisi Carmina desunt Marmora Maeonii vincunt menumenta libelli Vivitur ingenio caetera mortis erunt The Muses works stone-Monumenâ—â— outlast 'T is wit keeps life all else Death will down cast EPITAPHS 1. On a Lyer GOod passenger here lyes one here That living did lye every where 2. On a Dyer He lives with God none can deny That while he liv'd to th' world did dy 3. On a Iugler Death came to see thy tricks and cut in twain Thy threed why didst not make it whole again 4. On Mr. Fish Worm's bait for Fish but here is a great change Fish bait for worms is not that very strange 5. On a Child A child and dead alas how could it come Surely thy thread of life was but a thrumme 6. On Mr. Do. Do is my name and here I lye My Grammar tels me Do fit Di. 7. On Taylor a Serjeant kill'd by a Horse A Taylour is a Theef a Sergeant is worse Who here lies dead god-a-massy Horse 8. On Mr. Thomas Best With happy starres he sure is blest Where â—'ere he goes that stil is Best 9. On Robin Round Robin's gone and this grave doth inclose The pudding of his doublet and his hose 10. On Bell the Tinker Bell though thou dy'dst decrepâ—t lame forlorn Thou was 't a man of Mettle I 'l be sworn 11. On proud Tygeras Proud and foolish so it comes to passe He liv'd a Tyger and he dy'd an Asse 12. On Iohn Cofferer Here lyes Iohn Cofferer and takes his rest Now he hath chang'd a Coffer for a Chest. 13. On blind and deaf Dick Freeman Here lyes Dick Freeman That could not hear nor see man 14. On a Miller Death without warning was as bold as brief When he kil'd two in one Miller and Thief 15. On a Lady Here lyes one dead under this marble stone Who when she liv'd lay under more than one 16. On a Wrestler Death to the Wrestler gave a pretty fall Tript up his heels and took no hold at all 17. On Iohn Death Here 's Death interred that liv'd by bread Then all should live now Death is dead 18. On an Infant The reeling world turn'd Poet made a Play I came to see 's dislik'd it went my way 19. On a little but very ingenuous youth Grim Death perceiving He had far out ran The elder youthâ— mistook him for a man 20. On a Lady dying quickly after her Husband He first deceased she a little try'd To live without him lik'd it not and dy'd 21. On Mr. Stone Jerusalems curse is not fulfill'd in me For here a stone upon a stone you see 22. On Mr. Strange Here lies one Strange no Pagan Turk nor Jew It 's strange but not so strange as it is true 23. A Forts Epitaph Reader it was born and cry'd Crack'd so smelt so and so dy'd 24. On Mr. Anguish a scholler Some doe for anguish weep for anger I That ignorance should live and art should dye 25. On a lovely young youth From thy quick death conclude we must The fairest flowers are gather'd first 26. On Mr. Thomas Aâ—len No Epitaphs need make the just man fam'd The good are prais'd when they are onely nam'd 27. On a Lady Finis and Bonum are converted so That every good thing to an end must go 28. On a pious Benefactor The Poor the World the Heavens and the Grave His Alms his Praise his Soule and Body have 29. On a Poet in Prison Though I in prison here doe lye My Muse shall live altho I dye 30. On a poor Poet. Here lies the Poet buried in the night Whose purse men know it was exceeding light 31. A man and his wife Viator siste ecce miraculum Vir uxor hic non ligitunt 32. On a Pauls-walker Defessus sum ambulando 33. On a Scrivener May all men by these presents testifie A lurching Scrivener here fast bound doth lye 34. On one that cheated his Father Here lies a man who in a span Of life beyond his Father ran 35. On a Cut-purse Death hath that Cut-purse seiz'd on at Alhallows Who by good hap hath so escap'd the Gallows 36. On a young great wit Great wits are dangerous for then It seems they seldome come to men 37. On an Vsurer That all those goods and riches scrap'd together Should with himself depart knows not whither 38. On a Captain Who late in wars did dread no foes in field Now free of scars his life in peace doth yeeld 39. On a Potter He that on clay his chiefest trust repos'd Is now in clay in stead of dust repos'd 40. On a Merchant Who from accounts and reckningâ— ne'r could rest At length hath summ'd up his Quietus est 41. On a young man newly maried dyed The world and thou art quickly gone about That but now enâ—ring in art entred out 42. On Iohn Friend How ere he fail'd in 's life 't is like Iack Friend Was no mans foe but 's own and there 's an end 43. On Christopher Fowler Let all say what they can ' â—is known
is not strange She was a woman therefore pleasd to change And now shee s dead some woman doth remain For still she hopes once to be chang'd again 117. On Brawne Here Brawne the quondam begger lyes Who counted by his tale Full sixscore winters in his life Such vertue is in Ale Ale was his meat Ale was his drink Ale did him long reprive And could he still have drunk his Ale He had been still alive 118. On a Candle Here lyes I wot a little star That did belong to Iupiter Which from him Prometheus stole And with it a fire-coale Or this is that I mean to handle Here doth lye a farthing Candle That was lov'd well having its light But loosing that now bids good night 119. On M. R. Who soonest dies lives long enough Our life is but a blast or puffe I did resist and strive with death But soon he put me out of breath He of my life thought to bereave me But I did yield onely to breath me O'r him I shall in triumph sing Thy conquest Grave where is thy sting 120. On a Child Here she lies a prtty bud Lately made of flesh and blood Who as soon fell fast asleep As her little eyes did peep Give her strewings but not stir The earth that lightly covers her 121. On an Inne-keeper It is not I that dye I do but leave an Inn Where harboun'd was with me all filthy kind of sin It is not I that dye I doe but now begin Into etenall â—oy by faith to enter in Why weep you then my friends my parents and my kin Lament ye when I loose but weep not when I win 122. On a Cobler Come hither read my gentle friend And here behold a Coblers end Longer in length his life had gone But that he had no Last so long O mighty Death whose dart can kill The man that made him souls at wilâ— 123. On M. Aire Under this stone of Marble faire Lies th'body ' ntomb'd of Gervase Aire He dy'd not of an â—gue-fit Nor surfeited of too much wit Me thinks this was a wondrous death That Aire should dye for want of breath 124. On Mr. Rice M. Who can doubt Rice to what eternall place Thy soul is fled that did but know thy face Whose body was so light it might have gone To heaven without a resurrection Indeed thou wert all type thy limbs were signes Thy Arteries but Mathematick lines As if two soules had made the compound good Which both should live by faith none by blood 125. On Thomas Iones Here for the nonce Came Thomas Ionce In St. Iileses Church to lye None welch before None Welshman more Till Shon Clerk dye I le tole the bell I le ring his knell He dyed well He 's saved from Hell And so farewell Tom Ionce 126. On a young man Surpriz'd by grief and sicknesse here I lye Stopt in my middle age and soon made dead Yet doe not grudge at God if soon thou dye But know he trebles favours on thy head Who for thy morning work equals thy pay With those that have endur'd the heat oth'day 127. On the two Littletons that were drowned at Oxford 1636. Here lye we Reader canst thou not admire Who both at once by water dy'd and fire For whilst our bodies perish'd in the deep Our soules in love burnt so we fell asleep Let this be then our Epitaph Here lyes Two yet but one one for the other dyes 128. On a Butler That death should thus from hence our Butler catch Into my mind it cannot quickly sink Sure death came thirsty to the buttry-hatch When he that busi'd was deny'd him drink Tut 't was not so 't is like he gave him liquor And death made drunk him made away the quicker Yet let not others grive too much in mind the Butler's gone the keys are left behind 129. On M. Cook To God his Country and the poor he had A zealous soule free heart and lib'rall mind His wife his Children and his kindred sad Lack of his love his care and kindnesse find Yet are their sorrows asswag'd with the thought He hath attain'd the happinesse he sought 130. On a Porter At length by works of wondrous fate Here lyes the Porter of Winchester-gate If gone to heav'n as much I feare He can be but a Porter there He fear'd not hell so much â—or's sin As for th'great rapping and oft coming in 131. Vpon one who dyed in Prison Reader I liv'd enquire no more Left a spy enter in at doore Such are the times a dead man dare Not trust nor credit common aire But dye and lye Entombed here By me I 'l whisper in thine ear Such things as onely dust to dust And without witnesse may entrust 132. On Waddam Colledge Butler Mans life is like a new-tunn'd Cask they say The formost draught is oft times cast away Such are our younger years the following still Are more and more inclining unto ill Such is our manhood untill age at length Doth sowre its sweetnes doth stop its strength Then death prescribing to each thing its bounds Takes what is lefâ— and turns it all to grounds 133. On a Horse Here lies a Horse who dyed but To make his Master go on foot A miracle should it be so The dead to make the lame to go Yet Fate would have it that the same Should make him goe that made him lame 134. On an old Man a Residenciary Tread Sirs as lightly as you can Upon the grave of this old man Twice forty bating but one yeare And thrice three weeks he lived here Whom gentle fate translated hence To a more happy Residence Yet Reader let me tell thee this Which from his Ghost a promise is If here ye will some few tears shed He 'l never haunt ye now he 's dead 135. On a Maid Here she lyes in Bed spice Faire as Eve in Paradise For her beauty it was such Poets co'd not praise too much Virgins come and in a Ring Her supreamest Requium sing Then depart but see ye tread Lightly lightly ore the dead 136. On Husband and Wife To these whom Death againe did wed This Grave 's the second Marriage-Bed For though the hand of Fate could force Twixt soule and body a Divorce It could not sever Man and wife Because they both liv'd but one life Peace good Reader doe not weep Peace the Lovers are asleep They sweet Turtles folded lye In the last knot that love could tye Let them sleep let them sleep on Till this stormy night be gone And th' eternall morrow dawne Then the Curtaines will be drawne And they waken with that light Whose day shall never sleep in night 137. On Aretyne Here biting Aretyne lyes buried With gall more bitter never man was fed The living nor the dead to carp he spar'd Nor yet for any King or Caesar car'd Onely on God to raile he had forgot His answer was indeed I know him not 138. On William Coale
Ne'r none-such here her Corps interred lye 165. On a beautifull Virgin In this Marble buri'd lyes Beauty may inrich the Skyes And adde light to Phaebus eyes Sweeter then Aurora's aire When she paints the Lilies faire And gilds Cowslips with her haire Chafter then the Virgin spring Ere her blossomes she doth bring Or cause Philomel to sing If such goodnesse live 'mongst men Bring me it I know then She is come from heaven agen But if not ye standers by Cherish me and say that I Am the next design'd to dy 166. An ancient Epitaph on Martin Mar-Prelate The Welshman is hanged Who at our Kirk flanged And at her state banged And breaded are his Bukes And though he be hanged Yet he is not wranged The Devill has him fanged In his kruked klukes 167. Vpon Hodge Pue's Father Oh cruell death that stopâ— the view Of Thoms Parishioner good-man Pue Who lived alwayes in good order Untill that death stopt his Recorder Which was betwixt Easter and Pentecost In the year of the great frost At New-Market then was the King When as the Bells did merrily ring The Minister preached the day before Unto his Highnesse and no more Returning home said prayers and Buried the man as I understand 168. On our prime English Poet Geffery Chaucer an ancient Epitaph My Master Chaucer with his fresh Comedies Is dead alas chiefe Poet of Britaine That whilome made full piteous Tragedies The fault also of Princes did complaine As he that was of making Soveraigne Whom all this Land should of right preferre Sith of our Language he was the Load-sterre 169. On Mr. Edâ— Spencer the famous Poet. At Delphos shrine one did a doubt propound Which by the Oracle must be released Whether of Poets were the best renown'd Those that survive or they that are deceased The Gods made answer by divine suggestion While Spencer is alive it is no question 170. On Iohn Owen Well had these words been added to thy herse What e'r thou spak'st like Ovid was a verse 171. On Michael Drayton buryed in Westminster Doe pious Marble let thy Readers know What they and what their Children ow To Draytons sacred name whose dust We recommend unto thy trust Protect his memory preserve his story And a lasting Monument of his glory And when thy ruines shall disclaime To be the Treasury of his name His name which cannot fade shall be An everlasting Monument to thee 172. On Mr. Beaumont He that hath such acutenesse and such wit As well may ask six lives to manage it He that hath writ so well that no man dare Deny it for the best let him beware Beaumont is dead by whose sole death appears Wit 's a disease consumes men in few years 173. On William Shakespeare Renowned Spencer lye a thought more nigh To learned Chaucer and rare Beaumont lye A little nearer Spencer to make room For Shakespeare in your threefold fourfold tomb To lodge all four in one bed make a shift Untill Dooms-day for hardly will a fifth Betwixt this day and that by Fates be slain For whom your curtains may be drawn again If your precedency in death doe bar A fourth place in your sacred Sepulcher Under this sacred Marble of thine owne Sleep rare Tragoedian Shakespeare sleep â—lone Thy unmolested peace in an unshared cave Possesse as Lord not Tenant of thy grave That knto us and others it may be Honour hereafter to be laid by thee 174. On Ben Iohnson Here lyes Iohnson with the rest Of the Poets but the best Reader wo'dst thou more have known Ask his story not this stone That will speak what this can't tell Of his glory So farewell 175. Another on Ben I. The Muses fairest light in no dark time The wonder of a learned Age the line That none can passe the most proportion'd wit To Nature the best Judge of what was fit The deepest plainest highest clearest pen The voyce most Eccho'd by consenting men The soul which answer'd best to all well said By others and which most requitall made Tun'd to the highest key of ancient Rome Returning all her musick with her owne In whom with nature study claim'd a part And yet who to himself ow'd all his Art Here lyes Ben Iohnson every age will look With sorrow here with wonder on his Book 176. On Mr. Francis Quarles To them that understand themselves so well As what not who lies here to ask I 'l tell What I conceive envy dare not deny Far both from falshood and from flattery Here drawn to land by death doth lye A Vessell fitter for the skye Then Iasons Argo though to Greece They say it brought the Golden Fleece The skillfull Pilot steer'd it so Hither and thither to and fro Through all the Seas of Poetry Whether they far or near doe lye And fraught it so with all the wealth Of wit and learning not by stealth Or Piracy but purchase got That this whole lower world could not Richer Commodities or more Afford to adde unto his store To heaven then with an intent Of new discoveries he went And left his Vessell here to rest Till his return shall make it blest The bill of Lading he that looks To know may find it in his Books 177. On Doctor Donnes death He that would write an Epitaph for thee And doe it well must first begin to be Such as thou wert for none can truly know Thy worth thy life but he that hath liv'd so He must have wit to spare and to hurle down Enough to keep the Gallants of the Town He must have learning plenty both the Laws Civill and Common to judge any Cause Divinity great store above the rest None of the worst edition but the best He must have language travall all the Arts Judgement to use or else he wants thy parts He must have friends the highest able to do Such as Maecenas and Augustus too He must have such a sicknesse such a death Or else his vain descriptions come beneath Who then shall write an Epitaph for thee He must be dead first let alone for me 176. On Doctor Whaly What is the young Apollo grown of late Conscious his tender years are nothing fit To rule the now large Heliconian Sâ—ate Without a sage Competitor in it And therefore senâ— death who might Whaly bring To be a Guardian to this stripling King Sure so it is but if we thought it might Be worse then this namely that th' Gods for spight To earth had ta'n him hence wee 'd weep amain Wee 'd weep a Phlegethon an Ocean Which might without the help of Charous Oares Ferry his soule to the Elysian shoares 179. On Doctor Bambrigg Were but this Marble vocall there Such an Elogium would appear As might though truth did dictate move Distrust in either faith or love As ample knowledge as could rest Inshrined in a Mortals breast Which ne'rethelesse did open lye Uncovered by humility A heart which piety had chose To be her Altar whence arose Such
Irish hayes Cogâ— and Rongs and Peggie Ramsy Spaniletto The Venetto Iohn come kisse me Wilsons fancy Mar. But of all there 's none so sprightly To my ear as Touch me lightly For it 's this we Shepheards love Being that which most doth move There there there To a haire O Tim Crowd me thinks I hear thee Young nor old Ne're could hold But must leak if they come near thee Mop. Blush Marina fie for shame Blemish not a Shepheards name Mar. Mopsus why is 't such a matter Maidâ— to shew their yeelding nature O what then Be ye men That will hear your selves so forward When you find Us inclin'd To your bed and board so toward Mop. True indeed the fault is ours Though we term it oft time yours Mar. What would Shepheards have us doe But to yeeld when they doe woe And we yeeld Them the field And endow them with their riches Mop. Yet we know Oft times too You 'l not stick to wear the Breeches Mar. Fools they 'l deem them that do hear them Say their wives are wont to wear them For I know there 's none has wit Can endure or suffer it But if they Have no stay Nor discretion as 't is common Then they mayâ—â— Give the sway As is fitting to the Woman Mop. All too long dear Love I ween Have we stood upon this Tâ—eam Let each Lasse aâ— once it was Love her Swain and 〈◊〉 his Lasse So shall we Honour'd be In our mating in our meeting While we stand Hand in hand Honest Swainling with his Sweeting Alvar and Anthea Come Anthea let us two Go to Feast as others do Tarts and Custards Cream and Cakes Are the junkets still at Wakes Unto which the Tribes resort Where the businesse is the sport Morris-dancers thou shalt see Marian too in Pagentrie And a Mimick to devise Many grinning properties Players there will be and those Base in action as in clothes Yet with strutting they will please The incurious Villages Neer the dying of the day There will be a Cudgel-play Where a Coxcomb will be broke Ere a good word can be spokeâ— But the anger ends all here Drencht in Ale or drown'd in Beere Happy Rusticks best content With the cheapest Merriment And possesse no other fear Then to want the Wake next year The Wake I and whither shall we goâ— To the Wake I trow 'T is the Village Lord Majors show Oh! to meet I will not faâ—le For my pallate is in hast Till I sip againe and tast Of the Nut-browne Lasse and Ale Feele how my Temples ake For the Lady of the Wake Her lips are as soft as a Medler With her posies and her points And the Ribbons on her joynts The device of the fields and the Pedler Enter Maurice-Dancer With a noyse and a Din Comes the Maurice-Dancer in With a fine linnen shirt but a Buckram skin Oh! he treads out such a Peale From his paire of legs of Veale The Quarters are Idols to him Nor doe those Knaves inviron Their Toes with so much iron 'T will ruine a Smith to shooe him I and then he flings about His sweat and his clout The wiser think it two Ells While the Yeomen find it meet That he jangle at his feet The Fore-horses right Eare Jewels Enter Fidler But before all be done With a Christopher strong Comes Musick none though Fidler one While the Owle and his Granchild With a face like a Manchild Amaz'd in their Nest Awake from the Rest And seek out an Oak to laugh in Such a dismall chance Makes the Church-yard dance When the Screech Owle guts string a Coffin When a Fidlers coarse Catches cold and grows hoarse Oh ye never heard a sadder When a Rattle-headed Cutter Makes his will before Supper To the Tune of the Nooze and the Ladder Enter the Taberer I but all will not doe Without a passe or two From him that pipes and Tabers the Tattoo He 's a man that can tell 'em Such a Jigge from his vellam With his Whistle his Club And his brac't halfe Tub That I think there ne're came before ye Though the Mothes lodged in 't Or in Manuscript or print Such a pitifull parchment story He that hammers like a Tinker Kettle Musick is a stinker Our Taberer bids him heark it Though he thrash till he sweats And out the bottome beats Of his two Dosser Drums to the Market Enter the Bag-piper Bag-piper good luck on you Th' art a Man for my money Him the Bears love better then honey How he tickles up his skill With his bladder and his quill How he swells till he blister While he gives his mouth a Glister Nor yet does his Physick grieve him His chops they would not tarry For a try'd Apothecary But the Harper comes in to relieâ—e him Whose Musick took its fountaine From the Bogge or the Mountaine For better was never afforded Strings hop and rebound Oh the very same sound May be struck from a â—ruâ—kle-bed coarded Cock-throwing Cock-a-doodle-doe 't is the bravest game Take a Cock from his Dame And bind him to a stâ—kâ— How he struttâ— how he throwes How he swaggers how he crowes As if the day newly brake How his Mistriss Cackles Thus to find him in shackles And ty'd to a Pack-threed Garter Oh the Bears and the Bulls Are but Corpulent Gulls To the valiant Shrove-tide Martyr Canto Let no Poet Critick in his Ale Now tax me for a heedlesse Tale For ere I have done my honest Ned I 'll 〈◊〉 my matter to a head The Brazen Head speakâ— through the Nose More Logick then the Colledge knowes Quick-silver Heads run over all But Dunces Heads keep Leaden-ball A Quirristers Head is made of aire A Head of wax becomes a Player So pliant 't is to any shape A King a Clowne but still an Ape A melancholy head it was That thought it selfe a Venice glasse But when I see a drunken sot Methinks his Head 's a Chamberpot A Poets Head is made of Match Burnt Sack is apt to make it catch Well may he griâ—â— his houshold bread That hath a Windmill in his Head There is the tongue of ignorance That hates the time it cannot dance Shew him dear wit in Verse or Prose It reeks like Brimstone in his nose But when his Granhams will is read O dear quoth he and shakes his head French heads taught ours the gracefull shake They learn'd it in the last Earth-quake The gentle head makes mouths in state At the Mechanick beaver pate The empty head of meer Esquire Scorns wit as born a title higher In Capite he holds his lands His wisdome in Fee-simple stands Which he may call for and be sped Out of the Footmans running head The Saracens not Gorgons head Can look old ten in th'hundred dead But deaths head on his fingers ends Afflicts him more then twenty fiends An Oxford Cook that is well read Knows how to dresse a Criticks head Take out the brains and 〈◊〉 the noats O rare