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A06468	Bosvvorth-field with a taste of the variety of other poems, left by Sir Iohn Beaumont, Baronet, deceased: set forth by his sonne, Sir Iohn Beaumont, Baronet; and dedicated to the Kings most Excellent Maiestie.	Beaumont, John, Sir, 1583-1627.; Beaumont, John, Sir, d. 1644.	1629 (1629)	STC 1694; ESTC S101234	77,419	230

sickles strokes Strong Ploughmen let their Bulls go free from yokes Wooll feares not to dissemble colours strange But Rammes their fleeces then in pastures change To pleasing Purple or to Saffron die And Lambes turne ruddy as they feeding lie The Fates whose wills in stedfast end agree Command their wheeles to run such daies to see Attempt great honours now the time attends Deare Childe of Gods whose line from Ioue descend● See how the world with weight declining lies The Earth the spacious Seas and arched Skies Behold againe how these their griefe asswage With expectation of the future age O that my life and breath so long would last To tell thy deeds I should not be surpast By Thracian Orpheus nor if Linus sing Though they from Phoebus and the Muses spring Should Pan Arcadia iudging striue with me Pan by Arcadia's doome would conquer'd be Begin thou little Childe by laughter owne Thy Mother who ten mon'ths hath fully knowne Of tedious houres begin thou little Childe On whom as yet thy Parents neuer smil'd The God with meate hath not thy hunger fed Nor Goddesse laid thee in a little bed An Epigram concerning Mans life composed by Crates or Posidippus WHat course of life should wretched mortals take In Courts hard questions large contention make Care dwels in houses Labour in the field Tumultuous Seas affrighting dangers yeeld In forraine Land thou neuer canst be blest If rich thou art in feare if poore distrest In wedlock frequent discontentments swell Vnmarried persons as in Desarts dwell How many troubles are with children borne Yet he that wants them counts himselfe forlorne Young men are wanton and of wisedome void Gray haires are cold vnfit to be imploid Who would not one of these two offers choose Not to be borne or breath with speede to loose The answer of Metrodorus IN eu'ry way of life true pleasure flowes Immortall Fame from publike action growes Within the doores is found appeasing rest In fields the gifts of Nature are exprest The Sea brings gaine the rich abroad prouide To blaze their names the poore their wants to hide All housholds best are gouern'd by a wife His cares are light who leades a single life Sweet children are delights which marriage blesse He that hath none disturbs his thoughts the lesse Strong youth can triumph in victorious deeds Old age the soule with pious motion feeds All states are good and they are falsly led Who wish to be vnborne or quickly dead HORAT LIB 2. SAT. 6. THis was my wish no ample space of ground T' include my Garden with a mod rate bound And neere my house a Fountaine neuer dry A little VVood which might my wants supply The gods haue made me blest with larger store It is sufficient I desire no more O sonne of Maia but this grant alone That quiet vse may make these gifts mine owne If I increase them by no lawlesse way Nor through my fault will cause them to decay If not to these fond hopes my thoughts decline O that this ioyning corner could be mine VVhich with disgrace deformes and maimes my field Or Fortune would a pot of siluer yeeld As vnto him who being hir'd to worke Discouer'd treasure which in mold did lurke And bought the Land which he before had till d Since friendly Hercules his bosome fill'd If I with thankfull minde these blessings take Disdaine not this petition which I make Let ●at in all things but my wit be seene And be my safest guard as thou hast been When from the Citty I my selfe remoue Vp to the hills as to a towre aboue I find no fitter labours nor delights Then Satyres which my lowly Muse indites No foule ambition can me there expose To danger nor the leaden wind that blowes From Southerne parts nor Autumnes grieuous raine Whence bitter Libitina reapes her gaine O father of the mornings purple light Or if thou rather would'st be Ianus hight From whose diuine beginning mortalls draw The paines of life according to the law Which is appointed by the Gods decree Thou shalt the entrance of my verses be At Rome thou driu'st me as a pledge to goe That none himselfe may more officious show Although the fury of the Northerne blast Shall sweepe the earth or Winters force hath cast The snowy day into a narrow Sphere I must proceede and hauing spoken cleare And certaine truth must wrestle in the throng Where by my haste the slower suffer wrong And crie VVhat ayles the mad man whither ten● His speedy steps while mine imperious frend Intreates and chafes admitting no delay And I must beate all those that stop my way The glad remembrance of Mecaenas lends A sweete content but when my iourney bends To blacke Esquiliae there a hundred tides Of strangers causes presse my head and sides You must before the second houre appeare In Court to morrow and for Roscius sweare The Scribes desire you would to them repaire About a publike great and new affaire Procure such fauour from Mecaenas hand As that his seale may on this paper stand I answer I will trie he vrgeth still I know you can performe it if you will Seu'n yeeres are fled the eighth is almost gone Since first Mecaenas tooke me for his owne That I with him might in his chariot sit And onely then would to my trust commit Such toyes as these what is the time of day The Thracian is the Syrians match in play Now carelesse men are nipt with morning cold And words which open eares may safely hold In all this space for eu'ry day and houre I grew more subiect to pale enuies pow'r This sonne of Fortune to the Stage resorts And with the fau'rite in the field disports Fame from the pulpits runnes through eu'ry streete And I am strictly askt by all I meete Good Sir you needes must know for you are neare Vnto the Gods doe you no tidings heare Concerning Dacian troubles Nothing I. You allwayes loue your friends with scoffes to try If I can tell the Gods my life confound But where will Caesar giue his souldiers ground In Italie or the T●inacrian Ile I sweare I know not they admire the while And thinke me full of silence graue and deepe The onely man that should high secrets keepe For these respects poore wretch I lose the light And longing thus repine when shall my sight Againe bee happy in beholding thee My countrey ●●rme or when shall I be free To reade in bookes what ancient writers speake To rest in sleepe which others may not breake To taste in houres secure from courtly strife The soft obliuion of a carefull life O when shall beanes vpon my boord appeare Which wise Pythagoras esteem'd so deare Or when shall fatnesse of the Lard anoint The herbes which for my table I appoint O suppers of the Gods O nights diuine When I before our Lar might feast with mine And feede my prating slaues with tasted meate As eu'ry one should haue desire to eate The frolike

Bosvvorth-field WITH A TASTE OF THE VARIETY OF OTHER POEMS LEFT by Sir John Beaumont Baronet deceased SET FORTH BY HIS SONNE SIR IOHN BEAVMONT Baronet And dedicated to the Kings most Excellent Maiestie LONDON Printed by Felix Kyngston for Henry Seile and are to be sold at the Tygers head in Saint Pauls Churchyard 1629. Academioe Cantabrigiensis Liber TO THE KINGS MOST EXCELLENT MAIESTIE Most Gracious Soueraigne I Here present at the feet of your Sacred Maiesty these Orphan Verses whose Author had hee suruiued might haue made this Gift somewhat more correspondent to so Great a Pa●ron I haue only endeauored without Art to set this Iewell and render it apt for your Majesties acceptance to which boldnes I am led by a filiall duty in performing the will of my Father who whil'st he liued did euer intend to your Maiesty these Poems Poems in which no obscene sport can bee found the contrary being too frequent a crime among Poets while these if not too bold I speake will challenge your Maiestie for their Patron since it is most conuenient that the purest of Poems should be directed to You the Vertuousest most vntoucht of Princes the Delight of Brittaine and the Wonder of Europe at the Altar of whose Iudgement brigh● erected flames not troubled fumes dare approach To your Maiestie must bee directed the most precious off-springs of each Muse which though they may well bee esteemed Starres yet how can they subsist without the aspect of You their Sun Receiue then Great King these my Fathers Verses and let them find what his Son hath found your Princely clemency Effect on them I beseech your Maiesty a Kingly worke giue them life and withal graciously please to accept the sincere wishes for your felicity and the humble vowes of Your Maiesties euer loyall Subiect Iohn Beaumont An Elegy to the liuing memory of his deceased Friend Sir Iohn Beaumont Knight Baronet TO tell the World what it hath lost in thee Were but in vaine for such as cannot see Would not be grieu'd to heare the morning light Should neuer more succeed the gloomy night Such onely whom thy Vertue made or found Worthy to know thee can receiue this wound Of these each man will duly pay his teares To thy great Memory and when he heares One fam'd for Vertue he will say So blest So good his Beaumont was and weepe the rest If Knowledge shall be mention'd or the Arts Soone will be reckon vp thy better parts At naming of the Muses he will streight Tell of thy Workes where sharpe and high conceit Cloath'd in sweet Verse giue thee immortall Fame Whil'st Ignorance doth scorne a Poets Name And then shall his imagination striue To keepe thy gratefull Memory aliue By Poems of his owne for that might bee Had he no Muse by force of knowing thee This maketh me who in the Muses Quire Sing but a Meane thus boldly to aspire To pay sad duties to thy honor'd Herse With my vnpolish'd lines and ruder Verse Yet dreame I not of raysing amongst men A lasting fame to thee by my fraile Pen But rather hope something may liue of me Perhaps this Paper hauing mention'd thee Thomas Neuill An Elegy dedicated to the memory of his much honoured friend Sir Iohn Beaumont Knight and Baronet I Write not Elegies nor tune my Verse To waite in mourning notes vpon thy Herse For vaine applause or with desire to rank My slender Muse'mongst those who on the bank Of Aganippe's streame can better sing And to their words more sence of sorrow bring That stirres my Genius which should excite Those pow'rfull wits to doe a pious Right To noble vertue and by verse conuay Truth to Posterity and shew the way By strong example how in mortall state We heau'nly Worth may loue and imitate Nay 't were a great Iniustice not to saue Him from the ruines of a silent Graue Who others from their Ashes sought to raise To weare giu'n from his hand eternall Bayes It is by all confess'd thy happy Straines Distill'd from milky streames of natiue veines Did like the liuing source of Naso's Song Flow to the Eare thence gently glide along Downe to the Heart in notes so heau'nly-sweet That there the Sister-graces seem'd to meet And make thy Brest their Seate for soft retire And place from whence they fetch'd Promethean Fire To kindle other hearts with purest Flame Of modest Verse and vnaffected Fame While pedant Poetasters of this Age Who stile their saucy Rimes Poëtique Rage Loose humours vent and Ballad-lines extrude Which grieue the Wise captiue the multitude And that thy Poems might the better take Not with vaine sound or for the Authors sake Which often is by seruile spirits tryde Whil'st heau'n-bred soules are left vnsatisfyde Like to the Bee thou didd'st those Flow'rs select That most the tastefull palate might affect With pious relishes of things Diuine And discomposed sence with peace combine Which in thy Crowne of Thornes we may discerne Fram'd as a Modell for the best to learne That Verse may Vertue teach as well as Prose And minds with natiue force to Good dispose Deuotion stirre and quicken cold Desires To entertaine the warmth of holy Fires There may we see thy Soule exspaciate And with true feruor sweetly meditate Vpon our Sauiours sufferings that while Thou seek'st his painefull torments to beguile With well-tun'd Accents of thy zealous Song Breath'd from a soule transfix'd a Passion strong We better knowledge of his woes attaine Fall into Teares with thee and then againe Rise with thy Verse to celebrate the Flood Of those eternall Torrents of his Blood Nor lesse delight Things serious set apart Thy sportiue Poems yeeld with heedfull Art Composed so to minister content That though we there thinke onely Wit is meant We quickly by a happy error find In cloudy words cleare Lampes to light the mind Then blesse that Muse which by vntrodden wayes Pursuing Vertue meetes deserued Bayes To crowne it selfe and wandring soules reduce From paths of Ignorance and wits abuse And may the best of English Laureats striue Thus their owne Fun'rall Ashes to suruiue Thomas Hawkins To the worthy Muse of his Noble Friend Sir Iohn Beaumont Knight Baronet WE doe not vsher forth thy Verse with these That thine may by our prayse the better please That were impertinent and we too weake To adde a grace where eu'ry line doth speake And sweetly Eccho out in this rich store All we can any way pretend and more Yet since we stand engag'd we this make knowne Thy Layes are vnaffected Free Thine owne Thy Periods Cleare Expressions Genuine Muse most Emphaticall and Wit Diuine Thomas Hawkins A Congratulation to the Muses for the immortalizing of his deare Father by the sacred Vertue of Poetry YE heau'nly Sisters by whose sacred skill Sweet sounds are rays'd vpon the forked hill Of high Parnassus You whose tuned strings Can cause the Birds to stay their nimble wings And silently admire before whose feet The Lambs as

sibi somnium quid audet Altum effare noëma bello-montis Effatum euge Poëma Bello-montî est Dium castalium nitens politum Libatum salibus lepore tinctum Decurrens velut amnis alti monte Feruet delicijs ruit profundo Beaumontus latice Altiùs resultat Fertur nec tenui nec vsitatâ Pennâ per liquidam aetheram biformis Hic Phoebi deus est decus cohortis Summum Palladiae iubar sororum Ipse flos Venerum resurgo legi Ph. Kin. Vpon the Honored Poems of his Vnknowne Friend Sir Iohn Beaumont Baronet I Knew thee not I speake it to my shame But by that cleare and equall Voyce of Fame VVhich with the Sunnes bright course did ioyntly beare Thy glorious Name about each Hemisphere VVhiles I who had confin'd my selfe to dwell VVithin the straite bounds of an obscure Cell ●oke in those pleasing beames of VVit and VVorth VVhich where the Sunne could neuer shine breake forth VVherewith I did refresh my weaker sight ●hen others bath'd themselues in thy full light ●●t when the dismall rumour was once spred ●●at struck all knowing soules of Beaumont dead Aboue thy best Friends 't was my benefit 〈◊〉 know thee onely by thy liuing VVit And whereas others might their losse deplore Thou liu'st to me iust as thou didst before In all that we can value Great or Good VVhich were not in these cloathes of flesh and blood Thou now hast laid aside but in that mind That only by 〈…〉 could be confin'd Thou liu'st to me and shalt for euer raine In both the issues of thy Blood and Braine Ia. Cl. Bosworth Field WITH CERTAINE OTHER POEMS c. THe Winters storme of Ciuill warre I sing Whose end is crown'd with our eternall Spring Where Roses ioyn'd their colours mixe in one And armies fight no more for Englands Throne Thou gracious Lord direct my seeble Pen Who from the actions of ambitious men Hast by thy goodnesse drawne our ioyfull good And made sweet flowres Oliues grow from blood While we delighted with this faire release May clime Parnassus in the dayes of peace The King whose eyes were neuer fully clos'd Whose minde opprest with feareful dreames suppos'd That he in blood had wallow'd all the night Leapes from his restlesse bed before the light Accursed Tirell is the first he spies Whom threatning with his dagger thus he cries How darst thou villaine so disturbe my sleepe Were not the smother'd children buried deepe And hath the ground againe been ript by thee That I their rotten carkases might see The wretch astonisht hastes away to slide As damned ghosts themselues in darkenesse hide And calles vp three whose counsels could asswage The sudden swellings of the Princes rage Ambitious Louell who to gaine his grace Had stain'd the honour of his Noble race Perfidious Catesby by whose curious skill The Law was taught to speake his Masters will And Ratcliffe deepely learn'd in courtly Art Who best could search into his Sou'raignes hart Affrighted Richard labours to relate His hideous dreames as signes of haplesse Fate Alas said they such fictions children feare These are not terrors shewing danger neare But motiues sent by some propitious power To make you watchfull at this early hower These proue that your victorious care preuents Your slouthfull foes that slumber in their tents This precious time must not in vaine be spent Which God your helpe by heau'nly meanes hath lent He by these false coniectures much appeas'd Contemning fancies which his minde diseas'd Replies I should haue been asham'd to tell Fond dreames to wise men whether Heau'n or Hell Or troubled Nature these effects hath wrought I know this day requires another thought If some resistlesse strength my cause should crosse Feare will increase and not redeeme the losse All dangers clouded with the mist offeare Seeme great farre off but lessen comming neare Away ye blacke illusions of the night If ye combin'd with Fortune haue the might To hinder my designes ye shall not barre My courage seeking glorious death in warre Thus being chear'd he calles aloud for armes And bids that all should rise whō Morpheus charmes Bring me saith he the harnesse that I wore At Teuxbury which from that day no more Hath felt the battries of a ciuill strife Nor stood betweene destruction and my life Vpon his brest-plate he beholds a dint Which in that field young Edwards sword did print This stirres remembrance of his heinous guilt When he that Princes blood so foulely spilt Now fully arm'd he takes his helmet bright Which like a twinkling starre with trembling light Sends radiant lustre through the darksome aire This maske will make his wrinkled visage faire But when his head is couer'd with the steele He telles his seruants that his temples feele Deepe-piercing stings which breed vnusuall paines And of the heauy burden much complaines Some marke his words as tokens fram'd t' expresse The sharpe conclusion of a sad successe Then going forth and finding in his way A souldier of the Watch who sleeping lay Enrag'd to see the wretch neglect his part He strikes a sword into his trembling heart The hand of death and iron dulnesse takes Those leaden eyes which nat'rall ease forsakes The King this morning sacrifice commends And for example thus the fact defends I leaue him as I found him fit to keepe The silent doores of euerlasting sleepe Still Richmond slept for worldly care and feare Haue times of pausing when the soule is cleare While Heau'ns Directer whose reuengefull brow Would to the guilty head no rest allow Lookes on the other part with milder eyes At his command an Angell swiftly flies From sacred truths perspicuous gate to bring A crystall vision on his golden wing This Lord thus sleeping thought he saw and knew His lamblike Vnkle whom that Tiger slew Whose powerfull words encourage him to fight Go●●n iust scourge of murder vertues light The combate which thou shalt this day endure Makes Englands peace for many ages sure Thy strong inuasion cannot be withstood The earth assists thee with the cry of blood The heau'n shall blesse thy hopes and crowne thy ioyes See how the Fiends with loud and dismall noyse 〈◊〉 Presaging Vultures greedy of their prey On Richards tent their scaly wings display The holy King then offer'd to his view A liuely tree on which three branches grew But when the hope offruit had made him glad All fell to dust at which the Earle was sad Yet comfort comes againe when from the roote He sees a bough into the North to shoote Which nourisht there extends it selfe from thence And girds this Iland with a firme defence There he beholds a high and glorious Throne Where sits a King by Lawrell Garlands knowne Like bright Apollo in the Muses quires His radiant eyes are watchfull heauenly fires Beneath his feete pale Enuie bites her chaine And snaky Discord whets her sting in vaine Thou seest said Henry wise and potent Iames This this is he whose happy Vnion tames The

fearelesse with the Lions meet You who the Harpe of Orpheus so inspir'd That from the Stygian Lake he safe retir'd You could Amphions Harpe with vertue fill That euen the stones were pliant to his will To you you therefore I my Verse direct From whom such beames celestiall can reflect On that deare Author of my life inspir'd VVith heauenly heate and sacred Fury fir'd VVhose Vigour quencht by death you now reuiue And in this Booke conserue him still aliue Here liues his better part here shines that Flame VVhich lights the entrance to eternall Fame These are his Triumphs ouer death this Spring From Aganippe's Fountaines he could bring Cleare from all drosse through pure intentions drain'd His draughts no sensuall waters euer stain'd Behold he doth on euery paper strow The loyall thoughts he did his Sou'raigne owe. Here rest affections to each neerest friend And pious sighs which noble thoughts attend Parnassus him containes plast in the Quire With Poets what then can we more desire To haue of him Perhaps an empty voyce While him we wrong with our content lesse choyce To you I this attribute Sisters nine For onely you can cause this VVorke diuine By none but you could these bright fires be found Prometheus is not from the Rocke vnbound No Aesculapius still remaines on earth To giue Hippolitus a second birth Since then such Godlike pow'rs in you remaine To worke these wonders let some soule containe His spirit of sweet musicke and infuse Into some other brest his sparkling Muse But you perhaps that all your pow'r may speake VVill chuse to worke on subiects dull and weake Chuse me inspire my frozen brest with heat No Deed you euer wrought can seeme more great Iohn Beaumont Vpon the following Poems of my deare Father Sir Iohn Beaumont Baronet deceased YOu who prepare to reade graue Beaumonts Verse And at your entrance view my lowly straines Expect no flatt●ring prayses torcherse The rare perfections which this Booke containes But onely here in these few Lines behold The debt which I vnto a Parent owe Who though I cannot his true Worth vnsold May yet at least a due affection show For should I striue to decke the Vertues high Which in these Poems like faire Gemmes appeare I might as well adde brightnesse to the skie Or with new splendour make the Sunne more cleare Since eu'ry Line is with such beauties grac'd That nothing further can their prayses sound And that deare Name which on the Front is plac'd Declares what ornaments within are found That Name I say in whom the Muses meete And with such heate his Noble spirit raise That Kings admire his Verse whil'st at his feete Orpheus his Harpe and Phoebus casts his Bayes Whom though fierce death hath taken from our sights And caus'd that curious Hand to write no more Yet maruell not if from the fun'r all Rites Proceed these branches neuer seene before For from the Corne arise not fruitfull Eares Except at first the earth receiue the same Nor those rich Odors which Arabia beares Send forth sweet smells vnlesse consum'd with flame So from the ashes of this Phoenix flye These off-springs which with such fresh glory shine That whil'st time runneth he shall neuer dye But still be honour'd in this famous Shrine To which this Verse alone I humbly giue He was before but now begins to liue Francis Beaumont Vpon these Poems of his dearest Brother Sir Iohn Beaumont Baronet WHen lines are drawn greater then Nature Art Commands the Obiect and the Eye to part Bids them to keepe at distance know their place VVhere to receiue and where to giue their grace I am too neere thee Beaumont to define VVhich of those Lineaments is most diuine And to stand farther off from thee I chuse In silence rather to applaude thy Muse And lose my censure t is enough for mee To ioy my Pen was taught to moue by thee George Fortescue On the honor'd Poëms of his honored Friend Sir Iohn Beaumont Baronet THis Booke will liue It hath a Genius This Aboue his Reader or his Prayser is Hence then prophane Here needs no words expense In Bulwarkes Rau'lins Ramparts for defense Such as the creeping common Pioners vse When they doe sweat to fortifie a Muse Though I confesse a Beaumonts Booke to bee The Bound and Frontire of our Poëtrie And doth deserue all muniments of praise That Art or Ingine on the strength can raise Yet who dares offer a redoubt to reare To cut a Dike or sticke a Stake vp here Before this worke where Enuy hath not cast A Trench against it nor a Battry plac't Stay till she make her vaine Approches Then If maymed she come off T is not of men This Fort of so impregnable accesse But higher power as spight could not make lesse Nor flatt'ry but secur'd by the Authors Name D●●ies what 's crosse to Piety or good Fame And like a hallow'd Temple free from taint Of Ethnicisme makes his Muse a Saint Ben Ionson To the deare Remembrance of his Noble Friend Sir Iohn Beaumont Baronet THis Posthumus from the braue Parents Name Likely to be the heire of so much Fame 〈◊〉 haue at all no portion by my prayse ●●●ly this poore Branch of my with'ring Bayes offer to it and am very glad ●et haue this which if I better had ●●y Loue should build an Altar and thereon ●ould offer vp such VVreaths as long agone ●●ose daring Grecians and proud Romans crownd ●●●ing that honour to their most Renown'd But that braue World is past and we are light After those glorious dayes into the night Of these base times which not one Heröe haue Onely an empty Title which the graue Shall soone deuoure whence it no more shall sound Which neuer got vp higher then the ground Thy care for that which was not worth thy breath Brought on too soone thy much lamented death But Heau'n was kind and would not let thee see The Plagues that must vpon this Nation be By whom the Muses haue neglected bin VVhich shall adde weight and measure to their sinne And haue already had this curse from vs That in their pride they should grow barbarous There is no splendor that our Pens can giue By our most labor'd lines can make thee liue Like to thine owne which able is to raise So lasting pillars to prop vp thy prayse As time shall hardly shake vntill it shall Ruine those things that with it selfe must fall Mi. Drayton Ad posthumum opus D. Io. Bello-Montij Equitis aurati Baronetti viri Nobilissimi H●ndecasyllabon LEctum discubui biceps gemello Parnassus bijugo imminebat vnde Fontes desiliunt leues loquaces Pellucent vitreo liquore sontes Sudo sub loue sydere secundo Discumbo Teneras rosas pererro Narcissum Violas odore gratas Vnguento Ambrosio has has refectas Quas inter Philomela cantitillat Praepes blandula mellilinguis ales Quas inter volitant Apollinesque Et Musae Veneresque mille mille Insomne hoc

gone and now though much beneath His Coronet is next th' Imperiall Wreath No richer signe his flowry Garland drown's Which shines alone aboue the lesser Crownes This thou inioyd'st as sicke men tedious houres And thought'st of brighter Pearles and fairer flowres And higher Crownes which heau'n for thee reserues When this thy worldly pompe decayes and starues This sacred seruour in thy mind did glow And though supprest with outward state and show Yet at thy death those hind'ring clouds it clear'd And like the lost Sunne to the world appear'd Euen as a strong fire vnder ashes turn'd Which with more force long secretly hath burn'd Breakes forth to be the obiect of our sight Aimes at the Orbe and ioynes his flame with light Vpon his Noble Friend Sir William Skipwith TO frame a man who in those gifts excels Which makes the Country happy where hee dwels We first conceiue what names his Line adorne It kindles vertue to be nobly borne This picture of true Gentry must be grac'd With glitt'ring Iewels round about him plac'd A comely body and a beauteous mind A heart to loue a hand to giue inclin'd A house as free and open as the Ayre A tongue which ioyes in Language sweet and faire Yet can when need requires with courage bold To publike eares his neighbours griefes vnfold All these we neuer more shall find in one And yet all these are clos'd within this stone An Epitaph vpon my deare Brother Francis Beaumont ON Death thy Murd'rer this reuenge I take I slight his terror and iust question make Which of vs two the best precedence haue Mine to this wretched world thine to the graue Thou shouldst haue followd me but death too blame Miscounted yeeres and measur'd age by Fame So dearely hast thou bought thy precious lines Their praise grew swiftly so thy life declines Thy Muse the hearers Queene the Readers loue All eares all hearts but Deaths could please and moue Of my deare Sonne Geruase Beaumont CAn I who haue for others oft compil'd The Songs of Death forget my sweetest child VVhich like a flow'r crusht with a blast is dead And ere full time hangs downe his smiling head Expecting with cleare hope to liue anew Among the Angels fed with heau'nly dew We haue this signe of Ioy that many dayes While on the earth his struggling spirit stayes The name of Iesus in his mouth containes His onely food his sleepe his ease from paines O may that sound be rooted in my mind Of which in him such strong effect I find Deare Lord receiue my Sonne whose winning loue To me was like a friendship farre aboue The course of nature or his tender age Whose lookes could all my bitter griefes asswage Let his pure soule ordain'd seu'n yeeres to be In that fraile body which was part of me Remaine my pledge in heau'n as sent to shew How to this Port at eu'ry step I goe Teares for the death of the truly Honourable the Lord Chandos LEt him whose lines a priuate losse deplore Call them to weepe that neuer wept before My griefe is more audacious giue me one Who eu'ry day hath heard a dying grone The subiect of my verses may suffice To draw new teares from dry and weary eyes We dare not loue a man nor pleasure take In others worth for noble Chandos sake And when we seeke the best with reasons light We feare to wish him longer in our sight Time had increast his vertue and our woe For sorrow gathers weight by comming slow Should him the God of life to life restore Againe we lose him and lament the more If Mortals could a thousand liues renew They were but shades of death which must insue Our gracious God hath fitter bounds assign'd And earthly paines to one short life confin'd Yet when his hand hath quench'd the vitall flame It leaues some cinders of immortall fame At these we blow and like Prometheus striue By such weake sparkes to make dead clay aliue Breath flyes to ayre the body falls to ground And nothing dwels with vs but mournfull sound O might his honor'd Name liue in my Song Reflected as with Ecchoes shrill and strong But when my lines of glorious obiects treate They should rise high because the worke is great No Quill can paint this Lord vnlesse it haue Some tincture from his actions free and braue Yet from this height I must descend againe And like the calme Sea lay my Verses plaine When I describe the smoothnesse of his mind Where reasons chaines rebellious passions bind My Poem must in harmony excell His sweet behauiour and discourse to tell It should be deepe and full of many Arts To teach his wisdome and his happy parts But since I want these graces and despaire To make my Picture like the patterne faire These hasty strokes vnperfect draughts shall stand Expecting life from some more skilfull hand Vpon the vntimely death of the Honourable hop●full young Gentleman Edward Stafford Sonne and Heire to the Lord Stafford DEad is the hope of Stafford in whose line So many Dukes and Earles and Barons shine And from this Edwards death his kinred drawes More griefe then mighty Edwards fall could cause For to this House his vertue promist more Then all those great Ones that had gone before No lofty titles can securely frame The happinesse and glory of a Name Bright honours at the point of Noone decay And feele a sad declining like the day But he that from the race of Kings is borne And can their mem'ries with his worth adorne Is farre more blest then those of whom he springs He from aboue the soule of goodnesse brings T' inspire the body of his Noble birth This makes it moue before but liuelesse earth Of such I write who show'd he would haue been Complete in action but we lost him greene We onely saw him crown'd with flowres of hope O that the fruits had giu'n me larger scope And yet the bloomes which on his Herse we strow Surpasse the Cherries and the Grapes that grow In others Gardens Here fresh Roses lie Whose ruddy blushes modest thoughts descry In Flowre-de-luces dide with azure hue His constant loue to heau'nly things we view The spotlesse Lillies shew his pure intent The flaming Marigold his zeale present The purple Violets his Noble minde Degen'rate neuer from his Princely kind And last of all the Hyacinths we throw In which are writ the letters of our woe To the Memory of the Learned and Religious Ferdinando Pulton Esquire AS at a ioyfull Marriage or the birth Of some long wished child or when the earth Yeelds plenteous fruit and makes the Ploughman sing Such is the sound and subiect of my string Ripe age full vertue need no fun'rall Song Here mournefull tunes would Grace Nature wrong VVhy should vaine sorrow follow him with teares VVho shakes off burdens of declining yeeres VVhose thread exceeds the vsuall bounds of life And feeles no stroke of any fatall knife The Destinies enioyne their