right To let your English Martial view the light You will oblige this Nation by your pains Those ' specially to whom the Latin's strange And he in the Elysian shades will smile To heare he speakes the language of this Isle 103. Of Cardinal Bellarmine Of all the writers of the Roman Part Bellarmine thou the most confuted art How happens thy ill Fortune that we call Thy confutation if we drink up all 104. Of Cornelius Gallus A Poet and a Traytour is such news Mercuries and Diurnals do not use Gallus a Traitour Gallows a Reward But sure Augustus did not prove so hard He put him to a nobler death we hope Poets should live by linesn ot dye by 'th rope 105. To Banellus Welcome good Sir to truth and welcome to The way to Heaven which you directly go May we your stedfast footsteps follow even And t is no doubt we shall arrive at Heaven 106. To Mr. Henry Longville Marvel not Friend that oftentimes I write As if in drinking I did take delight I at my best am ill enough and hate To make my self a Beast at any rate Of Mirth and companie I sometimes think The cause that now and then I write of drink 107. Of Catullus Tibullus and Propertius The ancient Epigrammatist Catullus Propertius and the amorous Tibullus Are often bound together what 's the reason They all weremerry Blades at every season Whilst they did live they often were together And now th' are dead th' are bound up so in Leather 108. To my Son Mr. Thomas Cokaine Let others glory in their Hawks and Hounds Their golden heaps and Circuit of their Grounds Their gallant Breed of Horses and their meat Drest so that Heliogabalus would eat Their Mistresses whose Beauties would inflame Unknown Lands Salvages and make them tame Themselves and them so richly dres'd that you The Heavens without a Cloud would think in view Give me a study of good Books and I Envy to none their hugg'd Felicity 109. To Mr. Daniel Millescent Momus doth carp that I do write so few Lines on this Theme and sayes th' are not enow I to a hundred thousand write t is true And worth so many for your worths are you 110. To Mr. Robert Creitton Dr. of Divinity formerly Oratour and Greek Professour of the University of Cambridge Among the many friends that I do name Neglected I do mention you 't were shame You were my Tutour and t is fit I show The world a Part of the Respects I owe Let this poor trifle be an atome of it Although to my disgrace and your no profit Expect from your learn'd Pupils Works of Art I can present you but a grateful heart 111. Of high-spirited women Histories of all ages do declare High-spirited women noble things have done One shall serve mention'd in particular And she the brave Ioeni an Amazon Bonduca long the Romans force withstood And seal'd her love t' her Countrey with her blood 112. To Momus Momus doth grumble Prethee spare me not Th' excception's just thou hast against me got I writ Catullus and the other two Were all of them Contemporaries t is true Valerius ere they flourish'd dy'd I know it Poets may feign in that hold me a Poet With truth of History I was too bold As men tye knots on Ropes to make them hold 113. To Mr. Edmond Ravenhill How in your company I do delight A Pleasure to my ears as well as sight When on the Harpsecals your sister Win Doth play and you upon the Violin I with that musick am affected much She plays so well and eke your Art is such Hast t' us and when with playing you are weary A Bottle of rich sack shall make us merry 114. To Anne Hill Nan Hill th' art good and great Think it not better To grow up to a Mountain and be greater With marriage therefore do not be beguil'd Y' are made a Mountain if y' are got with child But marry Nan Hill if you should grow wanton Rather then to be worse become a Mountain 115. To my honoured kinsman Mr. Edward Darcy Repair your house at Newhall and hast down And leave the noise of this expenceful Town You here deprive your self of many a good To be enjoy'd by Countrey-solitude Pretend not want of Companie For I Will waite upon you oft that live thereby You may reply you better would I grant it Keep a good house there and you need not want it 116. An Epitaph on Mr. Gilbert Knyveston my wives Brother who deceased in London about the 38 year of his age and lies buried at St. Giles in the fields Stay Passenger forbear thy hast And read whom Death herein hath plac't For Gilbert Knyveston here doth lye A shaking of mortality All Ethicks he his practice made On Christian foundation laid His Life was noble and his Death A rich soul did to heaven bequeath His loss we therefore should not mourn But for our selves to sadness turn Lament that we do want so much Of those great worthes that made him such Let 's study him and imitate so That we may prove like him Now go 117. Of amorous Courtship Men do solicite Women they contemne If they are bashful to importune them Man was made first and therefore should begin Do Women They ' gainst Modesty do sin 118. Of Katherine Boer A Catholick German knit his angry brow And cal'd Frier Martin Luthers wife a Sow But such his Passion was it did run ore She could not be a Sow that was a Boar. 119. Of Puritans Against Saints Fasts the Puritans do bawl And why To th' Flesh they are addicted all 120. To my brother in law Mr. William Nevil Dare Cambridgeshire leave off to boast Thy University so crost And Cambridgeshire forbear to vaunt Of Ely fam'd for many a Saint And Westow-lodge henceforth let be The primest glory that 's in thee Where plenty neatness and a right Well-govern'd house yield full delight VVherein you and your Lady give Example how the good should live 121. To Mrs. Alice Nevill his sister Y' are virtuous young and handsome and I dare VVith Sydneyes Queen of Corinth you compare Between you I no difference can write But she was slighted you your servants slight You may relent and I do hope you will If prayers prevail not Cupid use thy skill 122. To Mrs. An Mrs. Mildred Nevil his daughters Henceforth our English youth may cease to glory In famous Sydneys celebrated story For you two sisters shortly must incite Some matchless pen your happy lives to write That unto all this land it may be known Pamela and Philoclea are out-gone 123. To Paulinus Marry in Lent t is strange and yet no treason You say although unusual that season Marriage is not but the solemnization Forbidden then and y 'ave a dispensation The Church hath favour'd you shew it your duty And prize 't henceforth above your Ladies beauty 124. To my honoured friend Major William Warner Playes Eclogues Songs a
wish her turn And lay her in a bed so sweet Jove would come down to 't did he see 't Where lies a jewel of richer use Then either India can produce The first assault she wisheth done And he that it was but begun What between smiles and fears she lies In the tru'st posture to entice And scarce dares see who looks upon her Thinking her honour her dishonour Her Bed doth seem the bower of bliss Where every sweet and pleasure is Her eyes two Lights divine to smile On all and comfort them the while Her delicate hair that 's onely found Upon her Cheeks a net on ground Of purest Marble set to take Not onely Mars but all that make On high Olympus top abode Even every stern and gentler God Her Lips the twins of Loveliness Like roses on a bank that bless The eyes of all the lookers on From whence a Zephyrus doth come So sweet and calm as it would soon Turn every thing into perfume The pleasant Garden of Delight Her cheeks mantled with red and white Seem like the early morning e're The Sun comes in our Hemisphere The Stately Column of her Neck Is onely worthy to protect Beauties rich Palace her fair head As smooth as Ivory polished She was in bed and we no more Could see of all her wondrous store Now comes the Bridegroom now so blest His onely miserie 's not undrest He helps and they do help him streight Few Men do linger on this night Who soon stands in his Shirt whil'st she Doth hide her Face asham'd to see But by her side he 's quickly laid And kisses the fair bashful Maid When they hop'd all would leave the Room The Bridal Posset in doth come A Ceremony he exclaimes Unfit for Hymens youthful flames And all the company prayes If we Must eat it let it our breakfast be And many thought the Virgin kind Was also of her Bridegroom's mind The Company laugh'd and said 'T was just For him to do as others must There is no help he doth obey And eats to get them soon away The Posset being done they wish Goodnight and leave them to their bliss Now he and she are equally Blest and possest both of their joy And Innocent Love his Part doth play And recompences long delay Love's is no Coward Fight although A Friend meets Friend and Foe not Foe It is a battel sweet not cruel And yet an even and naked duel No timorous giving back yet strife Perpetual 'twixt man and wife As Nilus in one channel bound Runs long through Egypts fertile Ground And yet at last into seven Currents Divides his swift and plenteous Torrents And separated so runs on Till it mix with the Ocean So happy Pair I wish may prove Your fruitful and auspicious Love May you pass through a fortunate And glorious Life and know no fate Sinister whiles you live and from Your Loves an hopeful Off-spring come That may grow great and equal good As you are now and as their blood To honours highest Zenith climbe And fix there till the end of time As this I wish full of delight To you all nights and so goodnight EPIGRAMS The first Book 1. To the Right Honourable Philip Earl of Chesterfield Baron of Shelford c. My Uncle MY Lord you are my Patron and I 'le tell The reason why then judge if I do well None of these Epigrams are worth a rush And naughty Wine doth need a gallant bush 2. To the Reader Though Generous Reader now and then I write Verses that justly may appear too light Yet on my word and you may credit me In jest I make them for varietie And do protest to all censorious men They flow not from my heart but from my Pen. 3. To Chloris What a beginning is you fain would know And it therefore unto you thus I show You are exceeding naught be good and so Of a beginning you example show 4. To Mr. William Turner School-fellows when we Friend together were The verses that I writ you lov'd to hear Soon as I can I will requite the same In the mean while receive this Epigram But this is nothing you reply In troth And your applauses then were little worth 5. To my Cousin germane Mrs. Olive Cotton Suspicion Grief Disdain Fame Beauty Truth Wrongeth consumes begets keeps wounds indueth Friendship life hatred deeds the mind the best You want the first three and enjoy the rest Suspicion hate shun grief abhor disdain Love fame keep beauty and in truth remain 6. To my worthy Friend Mr. Harbert Aston When we at Chenie School together were I knew you often to abuse a Boy Whom when he did to you for pity cry You beat the more but good Sir Do you hear Is not this true when he to you did mone Did he not then lament unto Astâ—n 7. Of my self when I was motion'd to a Judges Daughter I hate to lacquey humours and detest Some things as vile though others think them best I must not lose my freedom for a face I cannot dote on nor refrain that place Nor company I like think Poets poor Of Captains too prejudicately endure No sight of Wine judge Playes unlawful be A fraudulent shadow men can onely see Hypocrisie I do abhor and woo'd My Life should be chearful as well as good I know I have spies on me but I slight Their vigilancie and dare take my delight I may obtain another Mistress know No such constraints for her nor undergo Censure for things I should do I prefer My liberty and friends much above her Not that I do dislike that beauty so I should erre foully from a truth I know 8. Of my staying Supper with my Cousin Mrs. Olive Cotton If that the Seas were gentle there would be No violent Tides waters would run as free When they mix with the Ocean as at first When out of their original rocks they burst If that the winds were quiet and would stay Enclos'd in rocks under their Sovereigns sway The frighted Lilly would as firmly grow As the great'st-bodied Beach and never bow If that wise Fate had not appointed what Our lives should aim to either this or that Rebellious man would make his will his rule To live by and his Soul his body's fool I meant not to have stai'd but must relate Ladies do what they please like Seas Winds Fate 9. An Epitaph on my younger Brother Mr. Thomas Cokaine who died at Bath about the 18th year of his age and lyes there Buried Passenger stay and though thou art Of Flint weep e're thou dost depart For underneath this stone lies he Who was Heavens Epitome Mourn if thy Friend that he did take His flight so soon and thee forsake Or if a stranger to his worth That he unknown to thee went forth What old men are so long about He learn't to do e're he went out The Art of dying well And so May all by him Now thou mai'st go 10. To Mr. John Honyman On
live and spare All other things to feed upon that air 48. Ca. Germanici Augusti Epigramma de Puero Thracensi Thrax puer astricto glacie cum luderet Hebro Frigore concretas pondere rupit aquas Dumque unae partes rapido traherentur ab amne Praesecuit tenerum lubrica tecta caput Orba quod inventum mater dum conderet urna Hoc peperi flammis caetera dixit aquis A Thracian Boy on frozen Hebrus plai'd Till with his weight a breach i' th Ice he made Which from his body cut his tender head The rest being by the Waters swallowed His Mother sigh'd bestowing 't in an Urne That I brought forth for waters this to burn 49. Of Cajus Germanicus Augustus Germanicus was Drusus Son o' th high And the illustrious Claudian Family An eminent Poet to whom Ovid sent His Roman Kalander from Banishment His Cousin Agrippina was his Wife By whom he many children had His life At thirty four years age in Antioch Tiberius by poyson from him took Of all his many Poems nothing came Unto our Times but that one Epigram 50. To my very good Friend Mr. Francis Lenton Sir many years ago when you and I Frequently kept together company With Master Lightwood and my Noble Brother Sir Andrew Knyveton and some few such other Tom Lightwood made each following Anagram Which I illustrated upon your name While at the Fleece in Covent Garden we Drank roundly Sack in Rosen Cans and free There all was done in jest and so was took Pray laugh at them again now in this book 51. Francis Lenton Poet. Anagram Fil-pot Rosen Canne Filpot What Pot A Rosen Canne Who shall Frank Lenton shall that man But must he then turn Tapster No But fill for him he drinks unto He like a small Wit scorns to put My Friends health in a little Cup But like a Generous valiant man His smal'st health drinks in a whole Can But Poets Drink is surely Wine No Ale-house trash makes men Divine Why then Filpot and Rosen Can Except he be a Malt-drink-man He 's nothing less Glasses being small In Cans he doth drink Sack to all His Anagram is true and so His sack doth him true Poet show He therefore is a Gallant man And owneth Filpot Rosen Can. 52. Francis Lenton Anagram Nann Colts fire Nann Colts Fire That is Love For Love's a Flame But sure Nann Colt then is some curious Dame It may be not For he may carry perhaps Nann Colts fire in his Breeches have her claps Then Nann Colt is unsound and likely he Why should he fresher then his Mistress be Nann Colts fire once did burn his heart but lo It now hath setled in a place below I thought that Poets Wits should be of fire And not their bodies that flames did aspire 〈…〉 burnt Frank Be not dejected so 〈…〉 of Wine hath been you know And yet the better for 't and so mai'st thou By leaving her upon a solemn vow But thou may'st be her fire another way The Man that doth her heart and passions sway A goodly fortune to express desire To have thy brains distil'd by Nann Colts fire 53. To the World of Nan Colt If there be Lady that this Name doth own Or of inferiour condition A Woman in the world world witness bear We did not mean by this to injure her We knew none such he found it in his name And thus much said I hope w' are free from blame 54. To Mr. Francis Lenton refusing wine Dost thou endeavour Franke to leave thy drink That made thee such high raptures write think Or art a weary of the Muses for What els could make thee Phoebus Sack abhor It is our grief our mourning and thy shame That the Queenes Poet and a man of name Should drive Apollo from his breast with a Fine glass of six shillings or a dish of Whey Redress our sorrows and return again To wine and make thy head like Charles his wain 55. Francis Lenton Anagram Not Nel Cis Fran. Not Nel for she is fair and sound and sweet But Cis for she 's as common as a street Why should a Poet that can drink base drink After a Lady that 's deserving think Or why should you because your Characters Are good expect a Mistress like the Stars Because your Anagrams are rich to you Would you a Mistress rich in beauty too Not Nel Cis Fran is thine and use her well That 's make her tympanous belly rightly swell Blame not thy fortune but thine eyes or sure Some dark nights sport behind or ' gainst a dore What though she be decai'd like wither'd rose She is no ancienter then her best clothes You 'l say this Anagram is naught but shew Your reason for we all do know it true However 't is unfortunate you 'l say For Poets Loves should be as bright as day It is your name good Fran doth tell she 's foul And makes the world acquainted with her soul But you will ask why may not Cis be fair And Nel the homely One beneath compare This will not help you Fran for Nel is known Famous for beauty witness Sparta Town And Cis is yet and hath been ever since A common name for every Kitchen-wench You must be patient therefore and may thank Your name for this fine beast Not Nel Cis Frank. 56. To my very good Friend M. Thomas Lightwood Sir that I do expose these trifles to The world which we in jest writ long ago Pray pardon me for I am sure I do A greater wrong unto my selfe then you After so many troubles they remain Once more to make us laugh at them again 57. To my noble Cousin Mr. William Milward When I have wanted company sometimes I 've made my self merry with writing rhimes And I do hope that reading them you will Laugh too and pardon what you finde too ill For worth your approbation here is nought My whole book being a continual fault 58. To my worthy Friends the two Colonel William Bales So lov'd the two Alcides as you two So did Alcides and Paeantius do In the same steps that Noblest friends have mov'd And with as firm a love as they have lov'd You hand in hand have walk'd and work'd as high And glorious Actions of Amity Striving each others affection to out-go Yet from your Spheres of Honour look'd below On me and me into your friendship took Who here have link'd you with me in my book And that fair Fortune that your hearts inclines Grant us a life immortal in my lines 59. To my dear Cousin Mr. Robert Milwand Whil'st you retir'd at Alsop in the Dale With Poets and Philosophers converse And o're Voluminous Law-books do prevail And those hours you from study steal desperse Into your Oeconomical Affairs You mixe much pleasure with some easie cares 60. To my noble Friend Mr. Marmaduke Wivel After so many in the English tongue Whose happy Muses Epigrams have sung I have too boldly done and writ in
â—â— Aston Cockain A CHAIN OF GOLDEN POEMS Embellished with WIT MIRTH and ELOQUENCE Together with two most excellent COMEDIES viz. The OBSTINATE LADY AND TRAPPOLIN Suppos'd a PRINCE Written by Sr Aston Cokayn LONDON Printed by W. G. and are to be sold by Isaac Pridmore at the Golden-Falcon near the New-Exchange 1 THE AUTHORS APOLOGY TO THE READER THese poor trifles courteous Reader had not now become so troublesome to the World if it had been in my power to have prevented them for at my going once out of London I left them with a friend of mine who dying they were dispersed into divers hands Mr. William Godbid got my Obstinate Lady and though he found it with the last leaf torn out wherein my conclusion to the play with the Epilogue were he procured some acquaintance of his to supply the defect at the end and so Printed it And though that Comedy be very much of it writ in number he put it forth as if the most part of it were prose Here you have that defect much amended and my own conclusion and Epilogue added I was fearful my Trappolin and other Poems should have run the like misfortune and therefore made a diligent enquiry after them and when I had found them out could not get them delivered without parting with some money and promising my honest friend Mr. W. Godbid after I had afforded them some small correction I would bestow them on him with my consent for the Press For indeed without his assistance I should not have recovered them out of a Gentlemans hands whom I will forbear to name I hope there is nothing in the whole so amorous as to arrive at impiety yet nevertheless could I have imagined them worthy the trouble of transcription you will find many things here that had been omitted After this general Apologie I must also make my excuse for some particular pieces I have been demanded by some Persons of Quality and judgement why in my copy of Verses before Mr. Fletchers volume of Plaies I chiefly reflect upon the Mad Lover my noble friend and kinsman Mr. Charles Cotton sent me that single Play in a Manuscript which I had divers years in my hands therefore when I found the Players were prohibited to act I writ those poor Verses with an intention to have had the Mad Lover printed single and them to have waited on it which when the large Volume came forth my Cosin Cotton commanded from me and gave the Printers Next I must acknowledge I have been merry with Mr. James Strong and his pretty Pamphlet But seeing many thus make as bold with him I presumed I might take the same liberty I must only request the chastwomen of Lin to take no offence at these Verses I intended them none if there be any of dissolute life in that town let those be accounted of as his Joanes and no other I hope James Strong is of Coriats gentle disposition and will endure jesting with otherwise at his leisure he hath my leave to be as pleasant with me Some few things that I translated out of Latin and Italian I have not inserted as accounting them too wanton to breath in this chaster clime and in truth if any body either through curiosity or by any other accident should english any such pieces it will be esteemed a discretion in them to forbear publishing them Lastly I have made some progress into a Play to be called the Tragedy of Ovid which if my Obstinate Lady and Trappolin take I may be encouraged to perfect and present to you hereafter with some other things that are not yet put into method fit for the Press if you be not cloid with these small Poems already and hate a farther surfeit upon such toyes If this book hath the fortune to attain to a second impression you may then hear farther from me and in the mean while this is enough from Your servant ASTON COKAIN TO HIS NOBLE FRIEND Sir ASTON COKAIN on his Poetical composures SIr though I cannot on such praises hit As well may suit the wardrobe of your wit Rich and repleat yet give me leave to aim And light my I'aper at your Delphick flame But how should such a dazeled sence as mine Lost in high-waies of Excellence divine See to pass judgements on your lines aright That seem all gâ—â—ded with Phoebaean light From your rich brain effus'd that to the skie Rightly conformes in clear sublimity I almost should have thought your nimbler soul Had fire from Heaven like fly Prometheus stole But that whereas accursed plagues he brought Wherewith Pandora's box was sadly fraught You with choice things have blest us such as be Treasures of wit art language history How strangely winds your fancy here and there Like to your Anchor built with streams more clear That glide along as if they long'd to see Themselves ingulft in vast eternity Surely you drew from noble birds of Po Those numerous sweetnesses that ravisht so And from rich Naples and renowned Rome Brought forth fine courtship and choice learning home Your Muse impregnate with no common worth Thus travail'd for a fame and brought it forth Whose issue he that envies let him hear Like Phrygian Midas with a lengthn ' deare Nothing but scornes shot at him sundry waies Yet take those pellets for a charge of praise Kick at such currish slaves nor think them fit To pick up at your chair the crumbs of wit But think whilst other Muses seem to dance After your measures they your praise advance Needs must those wits or harsh or heavy be That move not at your strokes of harmony Tho. Bancroft Faults escaped in â—â—e printing are thus to be corrected PAge 3. line 18. read revoke p. 4. l. 23. r. skild p. 9. l. 22. r. Our Crow fained King was lain p. 10. l. 4. r. built ore Thames's sid p. 12. l. 27. r. Buxtons p. 14. l. 2. r. both fiâ—e p. 16. l. 2. r. you p. 29. l. 25. r. then p. 32. l. 30. r. Mantin p. 34. l. 19. r. mend p. 37. l. 14. r. Laughereâ— p. 41. l. 28. r. end p. 42. l. 3. r. if p. 76. l. 2. r. that p. 77. l. 1. r. Naides and the word flowing to be left out p. 91. l. 21. r. their p. 95. l. 20. r. Terni and Narni p. 96. l. 24. r. Torre Griego p. 97. l. 17. r. Corbiel p. 102. l. 1. r. blest p. 104. l. 26. r. Dad p. 106. l. 14. r. whore p. 107. l. 7. r. Cave's p. 119. l. 2. r. Knyveton p. 129. l. 3. r. Elveston p. 142. l. 6. r. eunt p. 165. l. 14. r. Atrides p. 168. l. 6. r. at p. 192. l. 10. is to be left out p. 197. l. 26. the single o to be left out p. 205. l. 26. r. Vergivian p. 208. l. 19. read Buxtons From page 208 to page 257 the figure of one hundred is left out which supposing Printed the Errata's following are thus to be amended Page 215
's fit for a fiery Captain yon 's a face Pretty and beautiful at the first Gaze But view it seriously and it is slight What an old womans that with a young Knight Sure t is his Grand-mother or great Aunt alas He had much rather a walk'd with a young Lass O says a young Lady to her brother when Did you see so complete a Gentleman Has he not curious legs fine curled hair How well the Suite is made that he doth wear I would my Husband were so handsome So He is her brother swears but she sighs no. Yon Gallant 's gate is like unto a Dance Sure he 's return'd but newly out of France Yon 's like a fools or clowns I know not whether And if h'as any wit hee 'l soon go thither Says a Lady to her husband He replide See how that woman walks with what a pride She very lately was a City-wife But now a Lord o' th Court hath chang'd her life Her Husband being dead and she left rich She for a title of more height did itch Which her good fortune got her In her own Conceit she is the onely happy one She thinks her Husband loves her and I dare Be sworn that he for her doth nothing care When he at night comes in towards him she trips And he must kiss her though he lothe her lips Which out of his affection he doth doe She thinks but I have told you what is true Vain windy honour what a sought for thing 'T will make a Kettle have a silver ring Survey a Tavern Not a Room but will Deserve a Satyre they are all so ill Here is a Gentleman that hath a smack Of riming with a Poet at his back And half a dozen of his drunken friends Who doth adopt him son for what he spends Praises his Poems for the best that were Since Hâ—ngist time writ in the English aire And For 't is vain to go to Delphos now For Oracles Son read my lines and thou Cryes he wilt say Apollo never coo'd God of the sacred Muses write as good He swears as many oathes as he repeates Verses then calls for the dear'st Fowl and eates Beg's mony when the reckning 's paid and so Having fil'd his Tobacco-box doth go Another chamber view and you may find Gentlemen staggering with wine as wind See healths drunk round round To her that lies By Suffolk-house and hath the fine blackeies Unto whose Lodgings he dares not repair Because she will not marry but an Heir To the rich Lady Widow that did invite Him kindly unto supper yesternight great Who though his means be smal her joyntuâ—e Without his company can eat no meat To the rich Citizens daughter gallant Girle The laft Mask full of Diamonds and Pearle Were you within the next Room you might see A Gentleman with a great Companie Of miscal'd Captains and Rorers that think drink Oathes Sugar-like sweeten each Glass they A pretious Engle Hug'd over and over and styl'd An hopeful spark or they are all beguil'd The Table full of Pottles Pintes and Quartos And they a humouring him with some old parts Of the last Coranto's or perhaps some thing Of Note perform'd by the late Sweden King They call for what they list meaning that he Shall pay the reck'ning for th' whole Companie Which when he hath they steal what plate they can Finger and part and laugh at th' idle man I 'le not go up two pair of stairs yet there Could be Satyrical as well as here And now I send desiring those that know Themselves touch'd in these lines away to goe Silent and mend For every thing is true And though I neither do name him nor you Believ 't I could that I would But faith Would you not be revenged Do Show your wrath Of me go and write Satyres for I know it My faults will serve although you are no Poet. Love Elegies 1. Of my falling in Love HAving resolv'd in Numbers great and high To sing our Brutus Flight from Italie How in this Island he arriv'd and fought Till he it under his Subjection brought Here reing'd some years in peace when he di'de To his three Sons did all the whole divide And being prepar'd to write a sudden noise Of a Coach did occasion me to rise Conjecturing whom it might be that did come Till a new day approch'd our Dining-room She was no sooner entred in the Place With her fair hand dispers'd Night from her face By taking off her mask and with a free Well-pleasing Garbe look'd on the Companie My eies being all the while fix'd on her face Astonish'd at her beauty and her grace But I both sigh'd and trembled For I saw The winged Boy did follow her in awe And was become her Champion to subject All mankind at her feet that dare reflect Rash looks on her Alas had I espide The fatal God ere I her Beauties eyde The sight of his resistless bow had soon With down cast eies made me to leave the room To him she turning scornfully did finde No shaft in 's hand I had it in my minde And said Why Truant do you suffer thus A rash presumptuous youth to gaze on us He humbly gave this answer Madam you May be appeas'd he soon his fault will rue When he came hither first he did intend A mighty Epick Poem to have pen'd But now that resolution will despise And court your favours in soft Elegies Before he had withdrawn his eies he found His yeilding heart assaulted with a wound This said a pretty and disdainful look She cast upon me and her leave then took Of those she came to visit leaving me Possest with sad thoughts of my Miserie Away Great Mars sigh'd I when she was gone And welcome Gentle Venus with thy Son The horrid wars that I did mean to write In stately numbers of the Trojan Knight I must convert to softer Layes and prove All ways t' incline her noble heart to Love 2. To my Mistress Fair glory of your Sex when you have read My name subscrib'd and find who 's conquered Blame not my weakness know your eies are strong And can do what they will or right or wrong I did not look to love onely to see And was enthral'd when I least thought to be Be kind or if you needs will tyrannize I le be your Martyr burn me with your eies But let me live For th' Art is more profound To save a dying Man then kill a Sound 3. To my Mrs. before Mr. Mayes Lucan that I sent her Pardon me Lady that I dare invent Lines neither worth your view nor my intent Nero did murther Lucan but I doe Expect a life and not a death from you With Piso and the learned Seneca He treason against Caesar did assay Yet 's Emperour gave him leave to choose by what Means he would undergo the Law of Fate I never did conceive a thought that you Might think offence unless affection true And that
winds blow back the Seas agen And cover you that women henceforth may Beware and earnest love with earnest pay But I am patient and though in vaine I love I dare not therefore be profane May you arrive safely and soon and live In all felicity whil'st I here grieve And sigh and weep for you may not a thought Of yours remember me be I forgot Lest when you think how you have left me you Should give a stop unto your mirth and rue But one word more it is not yet too late To make a wretched Lover fortunate Let not my prayers sighes vows be spent in vain But as I do love you so love again And we will go together never part Till I your body have who have my heart Which had I in possession I should finde Ways soon enough to win your backward mind 24. Although she cannot number thousands even With some deform'd whom Fortune more hath given Shall want of wealth scorn'd by true happiness Resist my way or make me love her less Yet hath she a fair Portion and her Name From one of our best Houses Coritane And she is beauteous as a cheerful day Or Venus rising from her Mother-Sea Are not her teeth the richest Pearls and sure He that hath Pearls enow cannot be poor Are not her radiant eies two diamonds fair And we all know that those stones precious are Art not her hairs of Gold And what but it fit Makes wrinkles smooth Age youth unfit things Her beauteous Cheekes are Roses such as neither The Spring can give nor the cold Winter wither Her lovely Breasts are Apples of more worth Then ever the Hesperides brought forth Arabian Odours both the India's Good She in one curious body doth include Cupid in nothing more his eies doth miss Then that he cannot see how fair she is Jupiter for her would unthrone his Queen And Pluto leave his lovely Proserpine Neptune from Amphitrite would remove And Mars for her forsake the Queen of love She 's like a Soul before it doth depart Even all in all and All in every part No man hath seen her but to every Sence Of him she bettereth the intelligence He knows his eies are perfect in their sight That in no other Object can delight He knows his smelling's exquisite that doth When he hath felt her breath all others loth A perfume for the Gods most fit and sweet When they at Counsel on Olympus meet And Iris they or Mercury beneath T is likely send for her so fragrant breath A free and unconfined touching her Above the lips of Queens all would prefer Or sacred hands of bounteous Kings compar'd The pretious Down of Phoenix's being hard Unto her softer skin And her sweet Tongue Which chides in Musick and enchantes in song And strikes the ablest Rhetoricians dumb Is fit'st to plead the peace of Christendom He in the sphere of happiness will move On whom she pleases to bestow her love And have the most delicious Repast That shall her Hymenaean Dainties tast You that are beauty in the Zenith who Can find no Equal wheresoer'e you go My Love no longer cruelly despise But dart me mercy from your gracious eyes And we shall both be rich For I am sure Themselves no happy Lovers ere thought poore 25. To her obtain'd Past are my sighs and woes complaints and tears Nor am I longer subject to my fears Her frowns no more strike terrour to my soul Though I was wounded she hath made me whole Within the rank of happy Lovers I Am now enrol'd and march triumphantly Ore all the Crosses that before did stay And hinder me to enter in this way And sing the Boy-Gods praise who wanting sight Shot at my Mistress and did hit the White My happiness is such that Times to come Shall not complain I of my joys was dumbe Let him whose Mistress is deform'd or old Not worth a Sonnet nor a Line withhold Or if on such an heap of years or sad Chaos of features he will needs run mad Loose the true judgement of his eyes or think That Channel water's Nectar he doth drink Let him profess he 's happy ne're so much The World that sees her cannot think him such 'T were fondness in me that what ere my youth Writ in her praise I now should say was truth I would not if I could but to be just To her and to my self thus much I must I 'm so far from repenting of my choice That every day she 's dearer in mine eyes Dear heart and dearer to me then mine heart We 'l live in love and in our loves depart The World shall bless our Fates and they that come Into sad bonds wish happy Lovers dumb Funeral Elegies 1. On the Death of my very good Friend Mr. Michaâ—l Drayton PHoebus art thou a God and canst not give A Priviledge unto thine own to live Thou canst But if that Poets nere should dye In Heaven who should praise thy Deity Else â—ill my Drayton thou hadst liv'd and writ Thy life had been immortal as thy wit But Spencer is grown hoarse he that of late Song Glorianâ— in her Elfin state And so is Sydney whom we yet admire Lighting our little Torches at his fire These have so long before Apollo's Throne Carrel'd Encomiums that they now are growne Weary and faint and therefore thou didst dye Their sweet unfinish'd Ditty to supply So was the Iliad-writer rapt away Before his lov'd Achilles fatall day And when his voice began to fail the great 〈…〉 did assume his seat Therefore we must not mourn unless it be 〈◊〉 none is left worthy to follow thee It is in vain to say thy lines are such As neither time not envies rage can touch For they must live and will whiles there 's an eye To reade or wit to judge of Poetrie You Swans of Avon change your fates and all Sing and then die at Drayton's Funeral Sure shortly there will not a drop be seen And the smooth-pebbled Bottom be turn'd green When the Nymphes that inhabit in it have As they did Shakespeere wept thee to thy grave But I molest thy quiet sleep whil'st we That live would leave our lives to die like thee 2. On my dear Sister Mrs. Isabella Cokaine who who died at Ashbourne about the 18th yeer of her Age and lyes there buried IT is an irreligious pride to turne Away our eyes and not to see thine Urne For sure that body whose blest soul doth keep A Jubile in heaven while here asleep It lies in holy earth is every day Bless'd by good Angels that do pass that way And therefore we with reverence should eye The Sepulchres where Saints entomb'd do lye And every time that we do go or come Nigh where thine Ashes lye behold thy Tombe But when we see it should we weep our eyes Dry of their tears and then conclude in cries It is impossible that our complaints Should make a Diapason to the Saints â—an Hallelujahs song above
nothing we should hate They whom all nations for Heroick soules And vertuous Actions above the Poles Have â—nthroniz'd did nought we should condemn And therefore Lovely One let 's follow them Strict Hymens rules wherefore should we obey Which on themselves the Gods did never lay Is it more honour to observe the lives Of surly Cato's then the Deities Away with fear 'T is reason prompts you to What I desire and love me what to do And therefore do not blush unless it be Because so many will envy thee and me Yet Madam know after so much exprest I honour vertue and have writ in jest 7. To my Cousin Mr. Charles Cotton I Wonder Cousin that you would permit So great an Injury to Fletcher's wit Your friend and old Companion that his fame Should be divided to anothers name If Beaumont had writ those Plays it had been Against his merits a detracting Sin Had they been attributed also to Fletcher They were two wits and friends and who Robs from the one to glorifie the other Of these great memories is a partial Lover Had Beaumont liv'd when this Edition came Forth and beheld his ever living name Before Plays that he never writ how he Had frown'd and blush'd at such Impiety His own Renown no such Addition needs To have a Fame sprung from anothers deedes And my good friend Old Philip Massinger With Fletcher writ in some that we see there But you may blame the Printers yet you might Perhaps have won them to do Fletcher right Would you have took the pains For what a foul And unexcusable fault it is that whole Volume of plays being almost every one After the death of Beaumont writ that none Would certifie them so much I wish â—s free Y 'had told the Printers this as you did me Surely you was to blame A Forreign wit Ownes in such manner what an English writ Joseph of Exeters Heroick piece Of the long fatal war 'twixt Troy and Greece Was Printed in Cornâ—lius Nepos Name And robs our Countreyman of much of 's fame 'T is true Beaumont and Fletcher both were such Sublime wits none could them admire too much They were our English Polestars and did beare Between them all the world of fancie cleare But as two Suns when they do shine to us The aire is lighter they prodigious So while they liv'd and writ together we Had Plays exceeded what we hop'd to see But they writ few for youthful Beaumont soon By death eclipsed was at his high noon Surviving Fletcher then did pen alone Equal to both pardon Comparison And suffer'd not the Globe and Black-Friers Stage T' envy the glories of a former Age. As we in humane bodies see that lose An eye or limbe the vertue and the use Retreats into the other eye or limb And makes it double So I say of him Fletcher was Beaumonts Heir and did inherit His searching judgement and unbounded Spirit His Plays are Printed therefore as they were Of Beaumont too because his Spirit 's there 8. To my Son Mr. Thomas Cokaine YOU often have enquir'd where I have been In my years Travel and what Cities seen And sâ—ai'd in of the which therefore in brief I for your satisfaction name the chief When four and twenty years and some moneths more Of Age I was I left our English Shore And in a thousand six hundred thirty two Went hence fair France and Italy to view At Roy July the sixteenth we took Ship And on the seventeenth did arrive at Deipe Henry the fourths secure retreat where one Night having lain I rode next day to Roan Thence in a Coach I did to Paris go Where then I did but spend a day or two Thence with the Lions messenger went thither And pass'd through Mont-Argis Mollins and Never In two days thence we did to Cambray get A City at the foot of Eglebet At Maurein I din'd and six days spent Among the Alpes with high astonishment There dreadful Precepice and horrid sound Of water and hills hid in Cloudes I found And trees above the Clouds on Mountains top And houses too a wonder to get up On Mount-Sinese's top I did ride o're A smooth and pleasant Plain a League or more Upon the which a large Fish-pool there is And one o' th Duke of Savoy's Palaces At the Plains End a little Chappel and A pretty Inn do near together stand That night we did descend 'bove half the way Where first we heard Italian spoke and lay Next morn we down to Susa rode full glad When Mount-Sinese we descended had And that same night to Turin came where we Staid but a day the Beauties of 't to see There we took Coach for Millaine and by th' way A Dinners time did at Vercelli stay And at Novara lay a night and stai'd But at great Millaine one such hast I made And but at Crema one and by the Lake Of stormy Garda did a dinner take Through the low Suburbs of high Bergamo I rode and that night did to Brescia go For works of Iron fam'd And having past Thorow Verona by Catullus grac't Did at Vicenza dine so forward went Through Padoa and on the banks of Brent Saw many Palaces of pleasant Site And to the rich fam'd Venice came that night Thence having stai'd there half a year did go Unto Ferrara by the river Poe Saving some four miles where a Coach we took When Phaetons fatal River we forsook I at Ravenna din'd Rimmini lay And the next Night did at Ancona stay A long days journey wherein we betime Pesaro rode through did at Fano dine For hansome women fam'd And in our way Rid neer small well-wall'd Siningaglia The next day at Loretto din'd and there View'd the Fair Church and House fam'd every where Thorow long Recanati rode and so To Macerata in the Even did go Next day I din'd at Tolentin and was It 'h Church of their renown'd Saint Nicholas Foligno and Spoletto having past Terin and Narin took a Nights repast Within Otricoli I the next day Din'd at Rignano ' i th' Flaminian way And in the Evening afterwards did come Thorow the Port del Popolo to Rome Where what the holy week and Easter could To strangers view afford I did behold Where that old Cities wonders I did view And all the many Marvels of the new Three weeks I there made my abode and then For Naples took my travels up agen Of all Frascati's Wonders had a sight And thence unto Velletri rode that night At Terrachina lay the next Then through The Kingdom pass'd at Mola took a view Of Old Gaeta thence to Capua rode Where onely I dinners time abode So I to Naples came where three weeks stay Made me the wonders thereabouts survey I at Puzzolo was there cross'd the Bay Fam'd for the bridge of proud Caligula To Baja and that day a view did take Of Aniana and Avernus Lake The mortal Grott was in and Sepulchre Which murther'd Agrippina did
interre Was in Sybilla's Cave and on the Ground Cal'd Vulcans Forge yielding an hollow sound At Pausalip pass'd through that hollow path Which Virgil for its primest Glory hath These and the rest beheld One day got up On evermore smoking Vesuvius top Vesuvius that two years before did throw Such death and damage upon all below Which burnt up grass and trees did make appear And tore Griego that did stand too near Above three weeks I did at Naples stay Then in a Galley went to Genoa Which in it an Embassador did bear To th' Cardinal Infante landed there Sent by the Vice-Roy to salute his hands Going t' be Governour o th' Netherlands I there remain'd but a few days but found A vessel that was for Marseilles bound I in it thither pass'd but by the way Did at Savona land and dinner stay I at Marseille but two dayes abode And the next after to Avignion rode I din'd at Orange and lay at Vienne And so to Lyons did return agen There stai'd a day or two and then did ride Unto Roana on the Loyers side About three days and nights along that streame We went by Boat till we to Briack came There we did leave the River and next morne Unto Mount-Argis did again return The morning after we from thence did go And lay that Night at pleasant Fountain-Bleau Thence we to Conbril went and on the Seine To Paris thence by Boat did come again There I above two moneths then made a stay Save on Saint Dennis wonders spent a day After which time I went to Amiens There lay one night and went to Calice thence As my stay serv'd what ever was of Fame Or note I visited where ere I came Four days I was in Calice then cross'd over The Sea in eight hours space and came to Dover Encomiastick verses on several Books To my friend Mr. Thomas Randolph on his Play called the Entertainment Printed by the name of the Muses Looking-Glass SOme austere Cato's be that do not stick To term all Poetry base that 's Dramatick These contradict themselves For bid them tell How they like Poesie and they 'l answer well But as a stately Fabrick raiâ—ed by The curious Science of Geometrie If one side of the Machine pe ish all Participates with it a ruinous fall So they are enemies to Helicon That vow they love all Muses saving one Such supercilious humours I deâ— I se And like Thalia's harmless Comedies Thy entertainment had so good a Fate That whosoe're doth not admire thereat Discloseth his own Ignorance for no True Moralist would be supposed thy foe In the pure Thespian Spring thou hast refin'd Those harsh rude rules thy Author hath design'd And made those precepts which he did reherse In heavy prose to run in nimble verse The Stagarite will be slighted who doth list To read or see 't becomes a Moralist And if his eyes and ears are worth thine Ore Learn more in two hours then two years before Thou hast my suffrage Friend And I would fain Be a Spectator of thy Scenes again To my friend Mr. Philip Massinger on his Tragi-comedy called the Emperour of the East SUffer my Friend these lines to have the grace That they may be a mole on Venus face There is no fault about thy book but this And it will shew how fair thine Emperour is Thou more then Poet our Mercury that art Apollo's Messenger and dost impart His best expressions to our ears live long To purifie the slighted English Tongue That both the Nymphes of Tagus and of Po May not henceforth despise our language so Nor could they do it if they ere had seen The machless features of the Faery Queen Read Johnson Shakespeare Beaumont Fletcher or Thy neat-lin'd pieces skilful Massinger Thou known all the Castellians must confess De Vega Carpio thy foil and bless His Language can translate thee and the fine Italian wits yield to this work of thine Were old Pythagoras alive again In thee he might finde reason to maintain His Paradox that Souls by transmigration In divers bodies make their habitation And more that all poetick Souls yet known Are met in thee contracted into one This is a truth not an applause I am One that at farthest distance view thy flame Yet dare pronounce that were Apollo dead In thee his Poetry might all be read Forbear thy modesty thy Emperours vein Shall live admir'd when Poets shall complain It is a pattern of too high a reach And what great Phoebus might the muses teach Let it live therefore and I dare be bold To say It with the world shall not grow old To my Friend Mr. Philip Massinger on his Tragi-comedy called the Maid of Honour WAs not thine Emperour enough before For thee to give that thou dost give us more I would be just but cannot that I know I did not slander this I fear I do But pardon me if I offend thy fire Let equal poets praise whil'st I admire If any say that I enough have writ They are thy Foes and envy at thy wit Believe not them nor me they know thy Lines Deserve applause and speak against their mindes I out of Justice would commend thy Play But Friend forgive me 't is above my way One word and I have done and from my heart Would I could speak the whole truth not the part Because 't is thine It henceforth shall be said Not th'maid of honour but the honour'd maid Of Mr. John Fletcher his Plays and especially the Mad Lover WHil'st his well organ'd Body doth retreat To it's first matter and the formal heat Triumphant fits in judgement to approve Pieces above our Candor and our love Such as dare boldly venture to appear Unto the curious eye and Critick ear Lo the Mad Lover in these various times Is prest to life t' accuse us of our Crimes Whil'st Fletcher liv'd who equal to him writ Such lasting monuments of natural wit Others might draw their lines with sweat like those That with much pains a Garrison enclose Whil'st his sweet fluent vein did gently run As uncontrol'd and smoothly as the Sun After his Death our Theatres did make Him in his own unequal'd Language speak And now when all the Muses out of their Approved modesty silent appear This Play of Fletchers braves the envious Light As wonder of our ears once now our sight Three and fourfold best Poet who the lives Of Poets and of Theatres survi'st A Groom or Ostler of some wit may bring His Pegasus to the Castalian Spring Boast he a Race ore the Pharsalian plain Or happy Tempe valley dares maintain Brag at one leap upon the double Cliffe Were it as high as monstrous Temariffe Of far renown'd Parnassus he will get And there t' amaze the world confirm his seat When our admired Fletcher vaunts not ought And slighted every thing he writ as nought Whil'st all our English wondring world in 's cause Made this great City eccho with applause Read him
therefore all that can read and those That cannot learn If y' are not Learnings Foes And willfully resolved to refuse The gentle Raptures of this happy Muse From thy great Constellation noble Soul Look on this Kingdom suffer not the whole Spirit of Poesie retire to Heaven But make us entertain what thou hast given Earthquakes and thunder Diapasons make The Seas vast rore and Irresistless shake Of horrid winds a Sympathie compose So that in these there 's musick in the close And though they seem great discords in our ears The cause is not in them but in our fears Granting them musick how much sweeter 's that Mnemosyne's daughters voices do create Since Heaven and earth and Seas and air consent To make an harmony the Instrument Their own agreeing selves shall we refuse The musick that the Deities do use Troy's ravish't Gamymed doth sing to Jove And Phoebus self playes on his Lyre above The Cretan Gods or glorious men who will Imitate right must wonder at thy skill Best Poet of thy times or he will prove As mad as thy brave Memnon was with love To my very good Friend Mr. Thomas Bancroft on his Works A Done my friend lay pen and paper by Y 'ave writ enough to reach eternity In soft Repose assume thy happy Seat Among the Laureats to judge of wit Apollo now hath cal'd you to the Bench For your sweet vein and fluent eloquence Whose many works will all rare patterns stand And deathless Ornaments unto our Land Belov'd admir'd and imitated by All those great souls that honour poesie Against th'approch of thy last hour when He thee shall call from the abodes of men In his own Quire for thy exceeding Art Among renowned wits to sing a part Nor you nor any friend need to prepare Marble or brass a Pyramid to reare To thy continuall memory nor with A Mausoleum hope to make thee live All such materials time may devour But ore thy works shall never have a power While nimble Darwen Trent augments and while The streams of Thames do glorifie our Isle And th' English tongue whiles any understand Thy lines shall be grace unto this Land Our Darbyshire that never as I knew Afforded us a Poet untill you You have redeem'd from obloquie that it Might boast of wooll and lead but not of wit Virgil by 's birth to Mantua gave renown And sweet-tongu'd Ovid unto Sulmo town Catullus to Verona was a fame And you to Swarton will become the same Live then my friend immortally and prove Their envy that will not afford thee love To Mr. Humphry C. on his Poem entitled Loves Hawking Bag. SIR I applaud your enterprise and say Y'our undertaking was a bold assay But you have nobly don 't and we may read A work that all old Poems doth exceed Avant you Grecian Mungrils with your Scraps Fal'n from linde Homers or did Hesiods chaps Musaeus too for all Scaligers cracking With Hero and Leander may be packing Virgil be gon we hate thy slandrous tongue For doing the chast Queen of Carthage wrong Venusian Horace too hereafter may Put up his pipes and hearken to thy Lay. Ovid thy several witty Poems all From hence to Pontus into exile call Valerius Flaccus hang thy Golden Fleece Before some honest Tavern door in Greece Silius Italicus hence get thee far With all the tumults of thy Punick war And Spanish Lucan quickly call away Caesar and Pompey to Pharsalia Statius thy Theban story leave to brag And listen all unto Loves-Hawking Bag. Chaucer we now commit thee to repose And care not for thy Romance of the Rose In thy grave at Saint Edmonds Bury thy Hector henceforth Lydgate may with thee ly Old Gower in like manner we despise Condemning him to silence for his Cryes And Spencer all thy Knights may from this time Go seek Adventures in another Clime These Poets were but Footposts that did come Halting unto's whom thou hast all outrun For Sol hath lent thee Pegasus the Nag To gallop to us with Loves-Hawking Bag And welcome mighty Poet that alone Art fit to sit with Phoebus in his throne To Mr. James Stronge Bachelour upon his wonderful Poem called Joanareidos WHat a fine piece of poetrie appears Such as hath not been seen these many years So strange for matter and so strangly writ That Joanareidos is matchless yet The Iliads and Odysses must give way And fam'd Aenaeados yield up the day The high Austriados must also yield And Mortemâ—riados leave the field For where 's that poet all the world among That must not vail the bonnet to James Strong Thou bachelour of Arts or rather bungler Or bachelour in life to whom the stronglier sluts What else should move thee to commend thy That might'st have spent thy time in cracking nuts Or looking birds-nests or what 's best of these In eating butter'd cake or tosted cheese Hail our James Strong Strong James whose every line Draws like a cable all our wondring ey'ne And general applause from friends and foes And many strangers up and down he trowes O 't is a wondrous book each word doth smell As if 't had something in it of a spell The lines are charming and if I guesse right They will bewitch women to scold and fight Old Robin Hood your western dames excel Scarlet and little John and Adam Bell Clem of the Clough and William Cloudeslee And all the out-laws of the Greenwood tree Had Guy of Warwicke and the bold Sir Bevyes Stukely and Jonny Armstrong made their levies Of the most valiant Souldiers of their time And come to this siege th 'had been bet at Lime The Chubs in buff trembled when like to Turks The saw thy Joanes to rage upon the works plight They might have burnt their foes in piteous Had they but been their bed-fellows a night But oh their fury was so rash they kept That fire within for those they did protect So for their zeal unto the â—ause perhaps They pay'd them with a plaudite of claps Merciless then they were there is no doubt That spar'd no friends within nor foes without Nor within walls onely their valour lay But field too as thy title page doth say And I believe their mettle they have shown Under some Hedges if the truth were known But I digress their power to relate It is a theme onely becomes thy pate I for thy pains if such there can be found Wish thee one of thy Joanes and that Joane sound That thou may'st lime her and on her in time Beget a race of Joanes to fight for Lime O happy New-Inn-Hall where thou hadst luck Such savoury dregs of poetry to suck For all will say it henceforth must excel For rhiming Kates-Hall and Emanuel This Nation may report upon their Oathes As Coriate did exceed for writing Prose So thou for penning an Heroick Song Dost all surpass In meeter being James Strong A Praeludium to Mr. Richard Bromes Plays THen we shall still have Plays and though they may Not
them in their full Glories yet display Yet we may please our selves by reading them Till a more noble Act this Act condemn Happy will that day be which will advance This Land from durt of precise Ignorance Distinguish moral vertue and rich wit And graceful Action from an unfit Parenthesis of Coughes and Hums and Haes Threshing of Cushions and Tautologies Then the dull zelots shall give way and fly Or be converted by bright Poesy Apollo may enlighten them or els In Scottish Grots they may conceal themselves Then shall learn'd Johnson reassume his Seat Revive the Phoenix by a second heat Create the Globe anew and people it By those that flock to surfeit on his wit Judicious Beaumont and th'ingenious soul Of Fletcher too may move without control Shakespeare most rich in humours entertain The crouded theatres with his happy vein D'avenant and Massinger and Sherly then Shall be cri'd up again for famous men And the Dramatick Muse no longer prove The peoples malice but the peoples love Black and White-Friars too shall flourish again Though here have been none since Queen Mary's reign Our theatres of lower note in those More happy days shall scorn the rustick prose Of a Jack-Pudding and will please the Rout With wit enough to bear their Credit out The Fortune will be lucky see no more Her Benches bare as they have stood before The Bull take Courage from applauses given To eccho to the Taurus in the heaven Lastly Saint James may no Aversion show That Socks and Buskins tread his Stage below May this time quickly come these days of bliss Drive Ignorance down to the dark Abyss Then with a justly attributed praise We 'l change our faded Brome to deathless Bayes To my worthy and learned Friend Mr. William Dugdale upon his Warwickshire Illustrated THey that have visited those forreign Lands Whence Phoebus first our Hemisphere coÌ„mands And they that have beheld those Climes or Seas Whence he removes to the Antipodes Have follow'd him his Circuit through and been In all those parts that day hath ever seen Although their number surely is but few Have not learn'd friend travel'd so much as you Though in your study you have sat at home Without a mind about the world to rome Witnesse this so elaborate piece how high Have you oblig'd us by your Industry We may be careless of our fames and slight The pleasing trouble any books to write The Nobles and the Gentry that have there Concerne shall live for ever in your Shire Our names shall be immortal and when at The period of inevitable fate We do arrive a poet needes not come To grace an Herse with 's Epicedium Marble and brass for tombes we now may spare And for an Epitaph forbear the Care For for us all unto our high content Your book will prove a lasting monument And such a work it is that England must Be proud of if unto your merit just A grace it will unto our Language be And Ornament to every Library No old or modern rarity we boast Henceforth shall be in danger to be lost Your worthy book comes fortunately forth For it again hath builded Killingworth Maugre the rage of war or time to come Aston shall flourish till the general doome And the Holts Progeny shall owe as much Unto your lines as him that made it such The Spires and walls of Coventry your pen Hath built more lasting then the Hands of men The prospects of our noble seats you shall Secure from any ruine may befall Our pleasant Warwick and her Castle that Surveyes the streams of Avon from her seat Your Labours more illustrious have made Then all the Reparations they e're had Victorious Guy you have reviv'd and he Is now secure of Immortality Even my beloved Pooley that hath long Groan'd underneath sinister fortunes wrong Your courteous eyes have look'd so kindly on That now it is to it's first splendor grown Shall slight times devastations and o're The banks of Anchor flourish evermore For there 's such vertue in your powerful hand That every place you name shall ever stand The skilfullest Anatomist that yet Upon an humane body e're did sit Did never so precisely show his Art As you have yours in your Corâ—avian part You in your way do them in theirs exceed You make the dead to live they spoil the dead Now Stratford upon Avon we would choose Thy gentle and ingenuous Shakespeare Muse Were he among the living yet to raise T' our Antiquaries merit some just praise And sweet-tongu'd Drayton that hath given renown Unto a poor before and obscure town Harsull were he not fal'n into his tombe Would crown this work with an Encomium Our Warwick-shire the Heart of England is As you most evidently have prov'd by this Having it with more spirit dignifi'd Then all our English Counties are beside Hearts should be thankfull therefore I obtrude This testimony of my gratitude You do deserve more then we all can doe And so most learned of my friends Adieu To my learned friend Mr. Thomas Bancroft upon his Book of Satyres AFter a many works of divers kindes Your Muse to tread th' Aruncan path designes 'T is hard to write but Satyres in these dayes And yet to write good Satyres merits praise And such are yours and such they will be found By all clear Hearts or penitent by their wound May you but understanding Readers meet And they will find your march on stedfast feet Although your honest hand seems not to stick To search this Nations Ulcers to the quick Yet your Intent with your Invective Strain Is but to lance and then to cure again When all the putrid matter is drawn forth That poisons precious Souls clouds their worth So old Petronius Arbiter appli'd Corsives unto the age he did deride So Horace Persius Juvenal among Those ancient Romans scourg'd the impious throng So Ariosto in these later times Reprov'd his Italy for many crimes So learned Barclay let his Lashes fall Heavy on some to bring a cure to all So lately Withers whom your Muse doth far Transcend did strike at things Irregular But all in one t' include So our prime wit In the too few short Satyres he hath writ Renowned Don hath so rebuk'd his times That he hath jear'd vice-lovers from their crimes Attended by your Satyres mounted on Your Muses Pegasus my friend be gone As er'st the Lictors of the Romans went With Rods and Axes for the Punishment Of Ill born with them that all vice may fly nigh That dares not stand the Cure when you draw To my most honoured Cousin Mr. Charles Cotton the younger upon his excellent Poems BEar back you Croud of Wits that have so long Been the prime Glory of the English tongue And room for our Arch-Poet make and follow His steps as you would do your great Apollo Nor is he his Inferiour for see His Picture and you 'l say that this is he So young and handsome both so tress'd
height It may last both your lives Good night 67. To Captain Mouther I 've been importun'd by some friends to tell How I approve your verses I say well Nor dare I otherwise that understand You have a desperate Courage heavy hand And a long sword Those few that do not matter The trifle cal'd their lives may scorn to flatter And so do I swearing that you write Works Will please the Christians and amaze the Turkes 69. To Mr. Clement Fisher of Wincott Shakspeare your Wincot-Ale hath much renownd That fo'xd a Beggar so by chance was found Sleeping that there needed not many a word To make him to believe he was a Lord But you affirm and in it seem most eager 'T will make a Lord as drunk as any Beggar Bid Norton brew such Ale as Shakspeare fancies Did put Kit Sly into such Lordly trances And let us meet there for a fit of Gladness And drink our selves merry in sober sadness 70. To Astrologers Your Industry to you the art hath given To have great knowledge in th'outside of heaven Beware lest you abuse that Art and sin And therefore never visit it within An Epitaph on Mrs. Brigit Allibond who dyed at Chenye about the eighteenth year of her age and lies there buried Here Brigit Allibond doth buried lye Whos 's too much love occasioned her to dye Insatiate thirst of gold Her Servants friends Sent him to travel and workt ' both their ends There he deceas'd which sad news thrust the Dart Of death through both her ears into her heart So Love chang'd Darts with Death Love too unkind To kill the body with the wound o th' mind Virgins should mourn her loss And by her men May see how Maids belov'd can love agen 72. An Epitaph on Lycisca who forc'd her husband to counterfeit his Religion Here lyes Lycisca that was full of Evil And therefore to be fear'd gone to the Devil Now seeing he and she have set all even Her Husband may walk in the Rode to Heaven 73. To Mrs. Francis Pegge my wifes Neece You once did think to be a Nun but now I hope you will forbeae that sacred vow And if you will be making vows pray take An husband and an holy vow him make So whether you become a Nun or wife Under a vow you may lead out your life 74. To Mr. Gilbert Knyveton and Mr. Thomas Knyueton my wifes Brothers Pray take an house and so continue on The hospitality you have begun For of such means none handsomer did live Or to their friends more generous welcome give Though you from Bradley are remov'd make known To noble minds each Country is their own 75. To my sister Mrs. Katharine Weston We were two brothers and five sisters now They are all dead alas save I and you All that Affection that among us was Let us therefore on one another place So we for Brothers and for sisters love An Emulation shall in others move 76. To my Cousin Mr. John Milward Of women some are foul and some are fair Some virtuous are and others are as bad Some go in poor apparel others rare Some melancholy are and others glad Some are at their prime others decaying are Some are reserv'd and others to be had Some timorous are any thing others dare Some dull and mop'd and others blith and mad Some humorous are others of freakes beware Some love to keep rheir homes others to gad Some high in virtues do themselves declare Others are overwhelm'd in vices sad Ovid would take of all to please his sences Give me a glass of Sack and choose you wenches 77. An Epitaph on Mr. Peter Allibond Fellow of Lincolne Colledge in Oxford Here buried lies within this hollow ground Oxfords prime glory Peter Allibond His Learning Lincolne Colledge hath renown'd And few the road to his high Parts have found Death in his Proctorship gave him his wound And thereby hindred him to go his Round And here hath laid him in a sleep so drown'd Not to awake but by th' last trumpets sound From hence then to arise and to be crown'd We hope with joyes where all joyes do abound 78. To my Niece Mrs. Isabella Boteler Your sister Iulia's married well and so Sweet Niece I wish you were dispos'd of too You the green sickness languish in and sure For that an husband is the proper'st cure What tho child-bearing pains on women drawes Sweet-meats by th' Proverb should have sowre sauce 79. To Mr. Andrew Whitehall You make a Violl speak your nimble hand That instrument seems onely to command How meanly many play strike so amiss That at their want of skill the strings do hiss Like resty horses they false steps do make And the vext strings with very shame to shake VVell tun'd that would agree they wrong so far Their artless violence doth make them jar So they but scrape abuse the strings and stick How dull the quickest are to you more quick Some few with their soft hands may please but you Please not alone but raise amazement too Your fingers on the neck and hand on Bow The motions of the Intellect out-go Such is your playing But if you would write How much you Works all mankind would delight 80. An Epitaph on my Father Mr. Tho. Cokain who deceased in London about the of his age and lyes buryed in St. Giles's Church in the Fields Stay Passenger and read under this stone Here Thomas Cokain lyes Sir Edwards son Mapleton gave him birth but far from home At London he deceas'd and this his Tombe Too mean a Monument for his great worth But virtue never findes reward on earth He was his families Heir but transitory Knowing all terrene wealth chang'd his for glory And here his body soft repose doth take Till him the Angels Trumpets shall awake 81. Of Cats Two Cats fell out and one an other slew May all Cats so to one another do Yet I can them endure would be their friend But that they company so oft offend 82. Of the English Spanish and French The Spaniards love the English they them hate The English love the French and they hate them A strange capriciousness of humane Fate 〈◊〉 Nations should affect whom them contemn Despised Lovers need not to complain Seeing t is known whole kingdomes love in vain 83. Of the Low Dutch The Belgians hate all but themselves wherefor Because no nation else can them endure What should the reason be of such an hate For aid receiv'd they have been so ingrate 84. To Isabel Manifold of the Black Swan in Ashb Heark Isbel Parker Isbel Hood But hold These names might serve were hers not Manifol Pray answer were your husband in the grave Soon after would not you another have If other women divers men should use They would disgrace their names for such abuse But without blushes you may hear it told That you of Men have lain with Manifold 85. To the same As great a wonder as black Swans some guess
Satyre I have writ A remedy for those 'i th amorous fit Love Elegies and Funeral Elegies Letters of things of divers qualities Encomiastick Lines to works of some A Masque and an Epithalamium Two Books of Epigrams All which I mean Shall in this volume come upon the Scene Some divine Poems which when first I came To Cambridge I writ there I need not name Of Dianea neither my Translation Omitted here as of another fashion For heavens sake name no more you say I cloy you I do obey you Therefore friend God b'wy you 125. Of this Book This little Work I 've done which time may wast Or Ioves displeasure into darkness cast But I will hope the best and that it may Last after I am ashes many a day FINIS EPIGRAMS The third Book 1. To the Gentry of Darbyshire GEntlemen and my Countrey men pray look With courteous eyes upon this trivial Book For I present it to you that it may Show my respects to you another day Why to the Lords I write not you enquire I should not be so bold though I desire But to avoid prolixity of words Gentlemen they are though you are not Lords 2. To the Readers Two Books of Epigrams I 've writ before Yet Gentle Readers I present you more Behold the third here offer'd you but what It will prove good or bad I know not yet May it likewise obtain your candor els Henceforth for me write Epigrams your selves 3. To the Right Honourable Philip Earl of Chesterfield Baron of Shelford c. Philip the second Earl of Chesterfield I a request have and I hope you 'l yield Yet I in modesty long time have stuck From making it And 't is but for a Buck Bestow one on me and on this good reason I will not ask again till the next season 4. An Epitaph on Elizabeth the Lady Reppington who deceased at Ammington about the 50. year of of her age and lies buried at Tamworth Here underneath this Monumental Stone Elizabeth the Lady Reppington Doth lye inter'd And therefore whosoere Thou art that passest by awhile forbear Thy hast and read and weep for he 's unjust Unto the merits of her precious dust That doth not drop his Tears in showers for she Is worthy of eternal Memory Worthy of storms of sighes Thunder of Grones To mourn her loss with due afflictions The sea-bright family that gave her birth Hath gain'd thereby a glory on the earth Happy her husband in so good a wife Happy her children to receive a life From such a Magazine of worthes as she A fair example for Posterity To name her virtues is to name them all She was their Centre she their pure White-hall Their Court their Palace where heaven did rejoyce To see such Cherubims without a vice She was their Paradise and her bright soul The Diety that did command the whole But O! there is another heaven else sure Her soul had never left a place so pure Earth is not the reward for virtue Look Upwards that 's towards her she is a Book A Directory for thy life which read And practiced thou wilt be so prais'd when dead An Epitaph on my honoured Cousin Mr. John Reppington who deceased at Ammington about the 25 year of his age and lies buried at Tamworth Here lies Iohn Reppington that came to be By Edwards death Heir of his Family As t' him his elder brother did give room So he t' his younger witness by this tomb He a few weeks after his mother di'd And of the same new term'd disease beside So he a most obsequious son was found That waited on his mother under ground He was good natur'd bore an honest mind Belov'd by all men and to all men kind And had no foe but death who too severe Hath cast an Heir so young and hopeful here 6. To Mr. Charles Hutchinson my Cousin German Cousin I long to see you married well And long at Rawslison to see you dwell Then I should oft wait on you make some stay It being from Pooly t' Ashburn in the way So I should make your house mine Inne what tho W' are friends and neer a kin Pray be mine so 7. To Mr. Francis Fitzherbert of Lincolnes Inne my kinsman To love and not to love it is all one If you do let the Fair belov'd alone And to love once unless you do love ever Is a slight toy and was an earnest never Therefore to shew you true affection have Your Mistrisse wed and love her to the grave 8. To Mr. Will. Stanhope the younger my Cousin German Why do you live so long a Batchelor Is it cause you the femall sex abhor Or do you fear women are troublesome And therefore loth into their yoke to come If such opinions do your minde enthrall Marry a wife and she 'l confute them all 9. Of Quintilla Quintilla talkes too much and why is it Because Quintilla hath but little wit And at each thing she speakes she doth laugh after A Fool is known by an excess of laughter 10. To my mother Mrs Anne Cokain Let none our Ashbourn discommend henceforth Your Gardens shew it is a place of worth What delicate Sparagus you have growing there And in how great abundance every year What gallant Apricocks and Peaches brave And what delicious Nectorins you have What Mellons that grow ripe without those Glasses That are laid over them in other Places What Grapes you there have growing and what wine Pleasant to tast you made last vintage time Plant Vines when of Grapes you have got store Make wine enough and I will ask no more Then Mr. Bancroft in high lines shall tell The world your cellar 's Aganippe's Well The rest are to be made Song 1. 1. I Saw a proud fair Lass to day Whose beauties equal those of May She is as sweet as flowers new blown Much pity she should lie alone What would you give to bless your sight With such an object of delight 2. I wondred at her delicate hair Mulcibers Net so soft and rare T' entangle even the Gods above And fill their hearts with gentle love What would you give c. 3. I gaz'd upon her beauteous eyes Loves exquisitest Palaces VVherein as many Cupids be As there are men that dare them see VVhat would you give c. 4. Het stately forehead was so fair That Iris Arch is no compare Match'd onely in lame Vulcans bride Unequal'd in the world beside What c. 5. Her sweetest Mouth doth far excell The Delphian certain Oracle T is Loves best musick all ears charmer All hearts enthraller and blouds warmer What c. 6. Her pretty hands I did espy Fitter for kisses then an eye They were so small I cannot look For such again but in a book What c. 7. Her bosome Beauties sweet champain The Poets Elizium I do fain Not white with snow but a selecter Colour all overstrow'd with Nectar What c. 8. The two brave Thrones