man'd your Cities and instead of stones Helpt you to build your Bulwarks with our bones Nor had your Castles now vnbattered stood Had not your slime ben tempered with our blood All this we did and more are still content With men munition mony to preuent Your future ruine Hence with warie speede Our state sent ouer to your latest neede Ten Noble heads and twice ten thousand hands All prest to execute their wise commands Mongst them our good Southampton and his ioy Deare Iames in hart a man in age a boy But oh your fatall fields vnhappie soile Accurst Acheldama foule den of spoile Deaths Hospitall like Hell the place of woe Admit all commers but nere let them goe Churl 's to your aide we sent strong liuing forces And you in lieu returne vs liuelesse corses Ah Noble Lords went you so farre to haue Your Death and yet come home to seeke a graue VII To the young Lord. BRight starre of Honour what celestiall fires 〈…〉 thy youthfull bloud that thy desires Mount vp so fast to Glories highest Spheres So farre beyond thine equalls and thy yeares Whil'st others Noblie borne ignoblie staine Their bloud and youth with manners base and vaine Thou to thy Fathers holie lessons lending Thine eare and to his liue's faire patterne bending Thy steps did'st daily learne for sport or need Nimblie to mount and man thy barbed steed Fairelie thy serious thoughts to write or speake Stoutlie vpon thy foe thy lance to breake It did not with thine actiue spirit suite To wast thy time in fingring of a Lute Or sing mong'st Cupids spirits a puling Dittie To moue some femall Saint to loue or pittie T' was Musick to thine eare in ranged batle To heare sad Drums to grone harsh Trumpets ritle Or see when clouds of bloud do rent in sunder The pouders lightning and the Canons thunder And when thou might'st at home haue liued free From cares and feares in soft securitie Thou scorning such dishonorable ease To all the hazards both of land and sea 's Against Religions and thy Countries foes Franklie thy selfe and safetie did'd expose O Sacred virtue thy mild modest glances Rais'd in his tender heart these amorous trances For thy deare loue so dearely did he weane His youth from pleasures and from lusts vncleane And so in thy straight narrow paths still treading He found the way to endlesse glorie leading VIII But soft sad Muse t is now no fitting taske The prayses of his well spent Youth t' vnmaske To sing his pious cares his studious night's His thriftie daies his innocent delights Or tell what store of vsefull obseruations He gain'd at home and mong'st the neighbring Nations Leaue we this virgin theame vntouch't vntainted Till some more happie hand so liuely paint it That all Posteritie may see and read His liuing virtues when hee 's cold and dead IX SWeet Youth what made thee hide thine amorous face And cheekes scarce downie in a steelie case And like yong Cupid vnder Mars his sheild Mongst men of armes to braue it in the field Thought'st thou o fondling cruell death would pitty The faire the yong the noble wise and witty More then the foule and foolish base and old Oh no the tirant bloudy blind and bold All the wide world in single combate dareth And no condition sex or age he spareth X. YEt some supposed since in open fight Thou had'st so often scap't his murdering might That sure he fear'd to throw his fatall dart Against thine innocent faith-armed heart Yet sooth to say t was thy sweet louely youth That so often mou'd flint-harted Death to ruth Though now intangled in thy locks of amber The inamour'd monster dogs thee to thy chamber And there alas to end the mortall strife He rauish thee of beautie and of life XI To Nature NAture although we learne in Graces schoole That children must not call their mother foole Yet when we see thee lauishly to burne Two or three lights when one would serue the turne When we perceiue thee through affection blind Cocker the wicked to the good vnkind Ready the stinking rankest Weeds to cherish When Lillies Violets and sweet Roses perish Wee cannot chuse but tell thee 't is our thought That age or weaknesse Nature makes thee dote XII Natures reply to the Censure VAine men how dare yee in your thoughts vnholy Mee nay your Maker to accuse of folly And all impatient with your plaints importune Heav'n Earth and Hell Death Destiny and Fortune When 't is not these poore Instruments that cause Your Crosses but the neuer changing Lawes Of your Almightie mercifull Creator Who sitting supreme Iudge and Moderator Of mens affaires doth gouerne and dispence All by his All-disposing Prouidence And equally his glorious ends aduances By good or bad happy or haplesse chances XIII To the Right Honourable Elizabeth Countesse of Southampton GReat and good Lady though wee know full well What tides of griefe in your sad brest doe swell Nor can in this our simple mourning Verse The thousand'th part of your deepe cares reherse Yet as the lesser rivulets and fountaines Run hastning from the Fields the Meads Mountaines Their siluer streames into the Sea to poure So flow our tributary teares to your That from the boundlesse Ocean of your sorrow Our eyes new springs our harts new griefs may borrow XIIII Eidem COuld we as easily comfort as complaine Then haply this our charitable paine Might merit from your grieued heart some thanks But oh our griefs so swell aboue the banks Of shallow custome and the feeble fences That are oppos'd by Reason Art or Senses That if Religion rul'd not our affections And pacifi'd our passions insurrections We should in mourning misse both meane and scope And sorrow Pagan-like sans Faith or Hope XV. Eidem MAdam though we but aggrauate your Crosses Thus sadly to repeat your former losses Whil'st you sit comfortlesse as all vndone Mourning to lack an Husband and a Sonne Yet may it giue your grieued heart some ease To saile with company in sorrow's Sea 's To thinke in them you are not tost alone But haue the Kingdome partner in your mone To thinke that those for whom you weep are blest Lodg'd in the heauenly harbour where they rest Secure nere more to grieue to want to feare To sin to Die or to let fall a teare So though heauens high Decree haue late bereft you Of two at once yet hath his bountie left you Many faire daughters and a sonne t' inherit Your Loue our Honour and his Fathers Spirit W. P. The least part of the shadow of Southamptons worth GReat Lord thy losse though I surcease to mourne Sith Heauen hath found Thee yet I 'le take my turne to wait vpon thy Obsequies a while And traile my Pen with others of my File And tell thy worth th' effects where of wee felt That in the lists of thy command haue dwelt Religions Champion Guardian of that Isle Which is the Goshen of Great
to prize Southampton right vntill Southampton dy'es Yet had he dy'd alone some ease't had beene His reall liuing Image to haue seene In his ripe Sonne grow'n to the pitch of Man And who in his short course so swiftly ran That he outwent his Elders and ere long Was old in Vertue though in yeeres but young Put on his Gowne betime and in his Downe Put on his Armes to beautifie his Gowne But ô sad Fate Prepost'rous Death would haue Him too because so ready for the graue The Father was his ayme yet being loth To leaue the Sonne now seene he would haue both And like a Marshall or a Herald rather Surpriz'd the Sonne to vsher vp the Father O that I could suppose my selfe to bee True Poet rap't into an extasie And speaking out of a redundant braine Not what is simplie true but what I faine That I might thinke the storie I impart But some sad fiction of that coyning art How pleasing would th'adult'rate error bee How sweete th'imposture of my Poesie What euer true esteeme my life hath gain'd I would haue false that this were also fain'd But Greife will not so leaue the hould it had But still assures me 't is as true as sad You bonds of Honour by th'allmïghties hand Seal'd and deliuer'd to this noble Land To saue her harmelesse from her debt to fate How is 't that you so soone are out of date You promis'd more at your departure hence Than to returne with your deere liues expence Defac't and cancell'd You most glorious starres Great ornaments both of our Peace and Warres Than which there moues not in Great Britains spheare Sauing the Mouers selfe and his Great heire A brighter couple When you left our shore In such great lustre you assur'd vs more Than to returne extinct O vaine reliefe To fill that state wirh ioy your owne with griefe You were not with Dutch ioy receiued their As now with sorrow you are landed here O' if the period of your liues were come Why stay'd you not to yeeld them vp at home Where the good Lady Wife and Mother both For right-diuided loue and true-plight troth And all the graces that that sex hath won Worthy of such a Husband such a Sonne With deâ—re imbracings might haue clipt your death And from your lips haue suck't your yeelding breath And kneeling by your beds haue stretch't your thighes And with her tender fingers clos'd your eyes Where manie Oliue branches of ripe growth Might by their teares haue testifi'd how loath They were to part either from slip or stock And many Noble friends whose high minds mock The frowns of stars might with endeered spirits Haue render'd you the tribute of your merits Why rather went you to a strange dull clyme Rich only in such trophies of the time In such post hast there to resigne them where The foggie aire is clog'd with fumes of beere Amongst a people that profainely thinke They were borne but to liue and liue to drinke A stupid people whose indocil hearts Could neuer learne to value your great parts As much vnworthy of you as vnable To iudge of worth the very scum and rable Of baptiz'd reason O why went you hying To giue to them the honour of your dying Yet with this point of greife some comfort striu'es They onely knew your deaths but we your liues Or if you needes must to the state be sent Why did you not returne the same you went The whole went hence the better parts we lack And but the courser parts alone come back And scarcely parts since in a state farre worse We sent SOVTHAMPTON but receiue a corse Alas what haue Great HENRIES merited That they by death should thus be summoned HENRIE the great of France and HENRIE then Of WALES the greater Cynosure of men And now SOVTHAMPTONS HENRIE great in fame But greater farre in goodnes than in name Had he but left his like nor higher stil'd More blamelesse death had beene my selfe more mild But since their liues scarce one to make a doubt Traduce me Enuie I must needes flye out Imprudent state of ours that did not scan Rightly what'twas to hazard such a man To saue ten thousand Holands or of him For Europes selfe to venture but a lim The building is more subiect to decay When such a piller is remou'd away But ô I erre Deere Countrey I confesse Griefe and distraction make me thus transgresse All rules of Reason Your designes are good O pardon me And yet he might haue stood Pardon againe Alas I doe not know In this distraction how my verses flow But whilst I am my selfe if euer thought But tempt my heart or tongue but whisper ought 'Gainst your dread hests may my bold tongue with wondor Rot as it lyes and hart-strings crack asunder But thou accursed Netherland the stage And common theater of bloud and rage On thee I le vent my vncontrouled spleene And stabbe the to the heart with my sharpe teene Thou whose cold pastures cannot be made good But with continuall shour's of reeking blood Nor fields be brought to yeald increase agen But with the seeds of carcasses of men Whose state much worse than vs'rers onely thriues By th'large expence and forfeitures of liues Yet bankerupt-like who day lie for thy store Without regard of payment borrowst more Wherein in threescore years more men of worth Haue perish't than th' whole countrey hath brought forth Since the Creation and of lower sorte More haue beene forc't to trauile through the porte Of ghastlie death vnto the common wombe Than well that lirtle bottome can entombe How art thou worthy that to saue thy harmes Or worke them this new world should rise in armes And bandy factions That for thy deare sake Kingdomes should ioyne and Countries parties take Curst be thy Cheese and Butter All the good That â—'re the world receiv'd for so much blood May maggots breed in them vntill they flie Away in swaims May all thy Kine goe dry Or cast their Calues and when to Bull they gad May they grow wilde and all thy Bulls run mad Better that all thy Salt and senny marishes Had quite bin sunke as some whole-peopled parishes Already are whose towers peere o're the flood To tell the wandring Sea-man where they stood Than that these Worthies only should haue crost The straights of death by sayling to that coast Whose losse not all that State can recompence Nay should their worths be ballanc't not th' expence Of Spaines vast Throne losse of the Monarchs selfe And all his subiects and the glorious pelfe Of both the Indies whence his trifles come Nor of th'triformed Gerion of Rome With all his boystrous Red-caps and the store Of diuers-colour'd shauelings that adore That strange Chimera with the lauish rent That feed's them all were halfe sufficient You Leiden-Doctors how were you mistooke How did your iudgement step besides the booke Where was your Art that could not find the way To
cure two such in whose know'n valour lay Your Countries weale For whom you should haue show'n The vtmost of that Art that e're was know'n Or practiz'd amongst artists and haue stroue T' haue turn'd the course of Nature and t' haue droue Things to their pristin state reducing Men Meerly to Elements and thence agen Moulding them vp anew preseruing life In spight of death and sharpe diseases strife Dull leaden Doctors Leiden is too good For you poore men that neuer vnderstood More wayes of Physicke than to giue a drench To cure the big-swolne Dutch or wasted French Pardon you neighbour Nations what I had Of reason's yours but griefe hath made me mad How durst you to such men such boldnesse show As t' practise with those parts you did not know Or meddle with those veines that none should strike But those that had beene practiz'd in the like Alas you knew not how their bodies stood Their veines abounded with a Nobler blood Of a farre purer dye and farre more rife VVith actiue spirits of a nimbler life Than e're before you practiz'd on May all The sicknesses that on our nature fall And vex rebellious man for his foule sin Seize on you all throughout without within For this presumptuous deed and want of skill And may such potions as haue pow'r to kill Be all your physicke yet corrected striue To weare you out and keepe you long aliue But O mee think's I raue 'T is time to end When 'gainst the rules I loue I so offend Pardon you learned Artists well I know Your skill is great and you not spar'd to show The vtmost of it Yet when all 's assay'd The debt to God and nature must be pay'd You precious Vrus that hold that Noble dust Keepe safe the wealth committed to your trust And you deare Reliques of that ample worth That whilom through your crenices shin'd forth That now haue put off Man and sweetly lye T' expect your Crowne of Immortality Rest there repos'd vntouch't and free from care Till you shall meet your soules with them to share In that rich glory wherein now they shine Disdaining all that 's not like them Diuine Where I assur'd againe to see and greet you Resolue to weepe till I goe out to meet you Ità non cecinit at verè pijssimeque flevit Ille dolet verè qui sine teste dolet Certaine touches vpon the Life and Death of the Right Honourable HENRIE Earle of Southampton and his true Image IAMES the Lord Wriothesley his eldest Sonne TO THE READER REader beleeue me 't is not Gaine nor Fame That makes me put in my neglected Name Mong'st learned Mourners that in Sable Verse Doe their last Honour to this dolefull Herse Nor did these Lords by liuing bountie tie To Them and to their Heires my Poetry For to speake plainly though I am but poore Yet neuer came I knocking to their doore Nor euer durst my low obscuritie Once creepe into the luster of their die Yet since I am a Christian and suppose My selfe obliged both with Verse and Prose Both with my Pencills and my Pens best Art With eye tongue heart and hand and euery part In each right Noble well-deseruing Spirit To honour Vertue and commend true merit Since first I breath'd and liu'd within the Shire That giues a Title to this honoured Peere Since twelue long Winters I my little Flock Fedin that Isle that wal'd with many a rock And circled with the Maine against her shore Hear 's the proud Ocean euery day to rore And sitting there in sun-shine of his Glory Saw his faire Vertues read his lifes true Story Who see 's not I haue reason to make one In this Isle's Churches Countries common mone Or thinks that in his losse I haue no part When the whole Kingdome seems to feele the smart Let him that list his griefs in silence mutter I cannot hold my plaints I needs must vtter I must lament and sigh and write and speake Lest while I hold my tongue my heart should breake W. PETTIE I. To the Right Honourable HENRY Earle of Southampton THe changing World and the Eternall Word Nature Art Custome Creatures all accord To proue if any doubted that we must Since All haue sin'd all die and turne to dust But deare SOVTHAMPTON since deserued praise Came thronging on Thee faster then thy dayes Since thy Immortall Vertues then were seene When thy graue head was gray to be most greene VVe fooles began to hope that thy lifes date Was not confined to our common fate But that thou still should'st keep the worlds faire Stage Acting all parts of goodnesse that Each Age Succeeding ours might in thy action see What Vertue in them dead did liue in Thee II. BVt oh vaine thoughts though late we find alas The fairest flowers that th' earth brings forth are grass Wealth Honor Wisdome Grace nor Greatnesse can Adde one short moment to the life of Man Time will not stay and the proud King of feanes Not mov'd by any Presents Prayers or teares Doth trample downe fraile flesh and from the wombe Leads vs away close prisoners to the tombe III. To both the Lords ANd you braue Lords the glorie of your Peeres More laden with your Honors then your yeeres Deare to Your Soueraigne faithfull to the State Friends to Religion ill men's feare and hate Death as his Captiues here hath laid full lowe And left your friends long legacies of woe Griefe to your Country to your house sad losses T' our Armies dread to our designements crosses IIII. To the Liuing TEll me yee liuing wights what marble heart Weying our wants doth not with sorrow smart To see those glorious Starres that shin'd so cleere In our disconsolate darke Hemisphere To see these Pillars whose firme Basies prop't Our feeble State the Cedars that oretop't The ayric clouds yeelding to Birds a Neast Shadow and shelter to the wearied Beast Now by Death's bloudie hand cut downe defaced Their Light ecclipsed and their height abased V. To Death YEt boast not cruell Tyrant of thy spoyle since with thy conquest thou hast won the foile For they O happy Soules diuinely armed Could not though hit be with thine arrowes harmed Thus robbed not of Beeing but of Breath Secure they triumph ouer stinglesse Death And while their pure immortall part inherits The heauenly blisse with glorified Spirits Their dust doth sleepe in hope and their good name Liue's in th' eternall Chronicles of fame VI. To the Hollanders vpon the returne of the Lords Corpes HOlland t' is knowne that you vnto our Nation Haue long bin linc'kt in friendlie Combination T' is knowne that we to you haue daily duly All offices of loue performed truely You still haue had protection from our Forts Trade to our Townes and harbour in our Ports When big-swolne Spaine you threatend to deuour We to your weaker ioyn'd our stronger power And our old souldiers willingly vnprest Ran to your wars as fast as to some feast We
Brittains soyle How good how great example dy'd in thee When th' Heire of both preuents thy destiny And scarce a pattern's left for those behind To view in one so Great so good a mind Thou Man of Men how little doth thy Name Need any Muses praise to giue it Fame Whose liu'ry gayn'd by merit thou hast worne And beg'd or bought esteeme didst hold in scorne But wast in darkest lustre chillingst cold A perfect Dimond though not set in gold And whether thy regard were good or ill Did'st constant carry one set posture still Needs must the world grow base and poore at last That Honours stock so carelesly doth wast How prodigall is shee that would send forth At once Two Noble Persons of such worth As Great Southampton and his Martiall Heyre VVhen scarce one Age yeelds such another payre Combin'd in resolution as in fate To sacrifice their liues for good of State How forward was his youth how farre from feares As great in hope as hee was young in yeeres How apt and able in each warlike deed To charge his foe to mannage fiery steed Yet these but Essayes were of what was hee Wee but the twilight of his spirit did see What had his Autumne bin wee yet did spy Only the blossoms of his Chieualry Death enuious of his actions hastned Fate Atchieuements glory to anticipate In both whose periods this I truly story That earths best essence is but transitory You valiant hearts that grudged not your blood To spend for Honour Country Altars good Your high attempt your Noble House doe crowne That those to dye in Bed of Fame not 〈…〉 〈…〉 e still admir'd esteem'd belov'd for why Records of Vertue will not let you die Your Actiue Soules in fleshly gyues restrain'd Haue Victory and Palmes of triumph gain'd Your Belgick Feauer doth you Being giue And Phoenix-like you burne and dye and liue Qui per virtutem peritat non interit AR. PRICE Vpon the Life and Death of the Right Honourable HENRIE Earle of Southampton And the Lord Wriothesly his Son Henry Wriothesly Earle of Southampton Anagram Thy Honour is worth the praise of all Men. GREAT WORTHY such is thy renowned Name Say what I can it will make good the same On such a theame I would euen spend my quill If I had meanes according to my will And tho I want fine Poets Wit and Art I gladly streine the sinewes of my heart And prostrate at the Tombe of these two Lords My tongue my pen and what my Fate affords HENRY WRIOTHESLEY Earle of Southampton Anagram Vertue is thy Honour O the praise of all men SOme men not worth but fauour doth aduance Some vulgar breath some riches doe inhance Not so the Noble Squire of whom I treat â—â—ught makes him honour'd but Vertues great Cardinall Morall Theologicall Consider well and behold in him all Yet notwithstanding all his Vertues hee Lies now in dust and darknesse Hereby see How Death can rent the hopes of worthy Squires And dash their proiects and crosse their desires Yet shall not Death triumph in Vertues fall For this his Name is still esteem'd of all Death strooke his Body onely that could die His Fame is fresh his Spirit is gone on hie IAMES WRIOTESLEY Baron of Tichfield Anagram Boyles in Field to reach worthy's Fame O Rare bright Sparke of ancient Chiualry In tender yeeres affecting warlike Glory O Noble Impe of that thrice Noble Sire What was it that thus kindled thy desire Surely 't was thy presaging Spirit For why Hauing small time thou would'st doe worthily Thou took'st thy flight because in heauinesse Would'st not see drown'd a world of Worthinesse Vpon the sudden and immature Death of both the Lords HEre wee see verified All flesh is grasse And the glory thereof like flower of grasse The flower fadeth long before the grasse So worthiest Persons before other passe A comfortable Conclusion THo Death on them hath shew'd his vtmost power Heav'ns King hath crown'd them with th' Immortall flower GVILIELMVS IONE'S Capellanus mestissimus feciâ— invit â Miner FINIS 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 2. 3. q. 136. â— â— Ad Eugenium 1. Meanes 2. 〈◊〉 Heb. 6. 19. 4. 5. 1. Medit. 2. Medit. See more in the treatise of faith 3. Medit. Non est ad astra mallis é terris via Senec. 4. Medit. 2 Sam. 10. Iosh. 1. Esay 43. 1. H. 6. 32. 1454. Vti vulgo accipi 〈…〉 fatum pro 〈◊〉 seris 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 * * Ita christianus orbis vbique 〈◊〉 solet * * At Thorley in the I le of Wight Silâ—