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B03167 An elegy on that worthy and famous actor, Mr. Charles Hart, who departed this life Thursday August the 18th. 1683. 1683 (1683) Wing E368; Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.3[62]; ESTC R36179 1,240 1

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AN ELEGY On that Worthy and Famous ACTOR Mr. CHARLES HART Who departed this Life Thursday August the 18th 1683. 31. Aug. 1683. CAn HART be dead and yet neglected lie Like vulgar Trophies of Mortality Nor have His Name shrin'd in an Elegy Hence Modern Wits Apollo's Bastard-brood If not for Him mourn your Ingratitude You oft have Verse on meaner Subjects made None shou'd give Presents and leave Debts unpaid Unthankful Tribe how can ye silent be And let His Fame earth with his Corps when He Gave both your Works and You Eternity Thus lighted Tapers round their Flames do cast And but for Others Good Themselves they waste Pardon bright Saint if now my weaker Verse Appear in sighing o'r Thy Glorious Herse To chide bold Death and our vast Loss bewail Our Loss which nought on Earth can countervail For where 's a Name like HART that has the Pow'r Can force all eyes t' a Tributary Show'r Whose Sins begot no Libels whom the Poor For Benefit the Rich for Worth adore Who liv'd a Phoenix who Himself deny'd And to warm Passion a cold Martyr dy'd Sure He 's not dead Such were His looks when He Wou'd counterfeit a Death in Tragedy But ah He 's gone too sure Cold is His Brow And th busie Pulse for ever 's idle now His Tongue which late such Melody did arm As could to Extasie the Hearers charm Whose Sweetness as we thought might Fate o'r come And make him change his Rigour now is dumb Silent as Sleep He lies His latest Breath Lifes Ep●logue spoke and all is still as Death Farewel Thou Darling of Melpomene The Best but Imitate None Equal Thee With Thee the Glory of the Stage is fled The Heroe Lover both with HART lie dead Of whom all speak when of His Parts they tell Not as of May out some great Miracle Such Pow'r He had o'r the Spectators gain'd As forc'd a Real Passion from a Felon'd For when they saw AMINTOR bleed strait all The House for every Drop a Tear let fall And when ARBACES wept by sympathy A flowing Tide of Wo gush'd from each Eye Then when he would our easie Griefs beguile Or CELADON or PEREZ made us smile Thus our Affections He or Rais'd or Lay'd Mirth Grief and Love by wondrous Art He sway'd Let no detracting Tongue dare wound His Fame Nor the Precise gainst Actors more exclaim HART has restor'd their Credit grac'd their Name His Life the Stage instructed and now dead We 're taught by Him the Worlds gay Stage to tread Oh happy me in such a Time brought forth As to behold such Goodness and such Worth All that was Excellent we in Him might see Servant to Justice and strict Honesty So Pure each Scene of 's Life was scarce we can Find Vice enough to say He was but Man His unexampl●d Virtues have no end He was a Loyal Subject Faithful Friend Mans Favourite and th Almighties was He too Each hour His Alms and Pray'rs did Heav'n pursue Secur'd of which bright Mansion hence he flew And now shou'd I aspire each Grace to Praise A Work t'astonish Wonder I must raise But oh blest Soul since great our Loss appears Permit me bath Thy Memory in Tears For Thy surviving Fame can never die Consin'd to nothing but Eternity While Thy blest Life Death to th' Best give Laws And each this certain Truth from Envy draws HART ne'r made Exit yet without Applause Printed by Nath. Thompson at the Entrance into the Old-Spring Garden near Charing-Cross 1682.