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ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A86610	Poems, viz. 1. A panegyrick to the king. 2. Songs and sonnets. 3. The blind lady, a comedy. 4. The fourth book of Virgil, 5. Statius his Achilleis, with annotations. 6. A panegyrick to Generall Monck. / By the Honorable Sr Robert Howard.	Howard, Robert, Sir, 1626-1698.; Virgil.; Statius, P. Papinius (Publius Papinius); Dryden, John, 1631-1700.	1660 (1660)	Wing H3003; Thomason E1824_2; ESTC R202055	150,777	320

modesty By omitting little to shew my self not at all secure in the world's opinion I have thus ingenuous Reader given you a clear and true account of my Self and Writings not opprest with apprehension nor rais'd by neglect but preserv'd by an indifferency that destroys not my civilitie to others nor my own content desiring not to engrosse but share satisfaction If in any thing I justly need or designe to ask pardon 't is for Errors that probably the Reader may meet with having been reduc'd to the strait of neglecting this or businesse I confesse my Interest prevail'd with me though not wholly to neglect the Reader since I prevail'd with a worthy Friend to take so much view of my blotted Copies as to free me from grosse Errors Having thus set down all my designe and reasons I leave the Reader with as little Concern to use his as I have shewed him mine To my Honored Friend S r ROBERT HOWARD On his Excellent Poems AS there is Musick uninform'd by Art In those wild Notes which with a merry heart The Birds in unfrequented shades expresse Who better taught at home yet please us lesse So in your Verse a native sweetnesse dwells Which shames-Composure and its Art excells Singing no more can your soft numbers grace Then Paint adds charms unto a beauteous Face Yet as when mighty Rivers gently creep Their even calmnesse does suppose them deep Such is your Muse no Metaphor swell'd high With dangerous boldnesse lifts her to the sky Those mounting Fancies when they fall again Shew sand and dirt at bottom do remain So firm a strength and yet with all so sweet Did never but in Sampson's Riddle meet 'T is strange each line so great a weight should bear And yet no signe of toil no sweat appear Either your Arthides Art as Stoicks feign Then least to feel when most they suffer pain And we dull souls admire but cannot see What hidden springs within the Engine be Or 't is some happinesse that still pursues Each act and motion of your gracefull muse Or is it Fortune's work that in your bead The curious Net that is for fancies spread Let 's through its Meshes every meaner thought While rich Idea's there are onely caught Sure that 's not all this is a piece too fair To be the child of Chance and not of Care No Atoms casually together hurl'd Could e're produce so beautifull a world Nor dare I such a doctrine here admit As would destroy the providence of wit 'T is your strong Genius then which does not feel Those weights would make a weaker spirit reel To carry weight and run so lightly too Is what alone your Pegasus can do Great Hercules himself could ne're do more Than not to feel those Heav'ns and gods he bore Your easier Odes which for de●ight were penn'd Yet our instruction make their s●cond end We 're both enrich'd and pleas'd like them that woo At once a Beauty and a Fortune too Of Morall Knowledge Poesie was Queen And still she might had wanton wits not been VVho like ill Guardians liv'd themselves at large And not content with that debauch'd their charge Like some brave Captain your successfull Pen Restores the Exil'd to her Crown again And gives us hope that having seen the days VVhen nothing flourish'd but Fanatique Bays All wi●l at length in this opinion rest A sober Prince's Government is best This is not all your Art the way has found To make improvement of the richest ground That soil which those immortall Lawrells bore That once the sacred Maro's temples wore Elisa's griefs are so exprest by you They are too eloquent to have been true Had she so spoke Aeneas had obey'd VVhat Dido rather then what Jove had said If funerall Rites can give a Ghost repose Your Muse so justly has discharged those Elisa's shade may now its wandring cease And claim a title to the fields of peace But if Aeneas be oblig'd no lesse Your kindnesse great Achilles doth confesse VVho dress●d by Statius in too bold a look Did ill become those Virgin 's Robes he took To understand how much we owe to you VVe must your Numbers with your Author's view Then we shall see his work was lamely rough Each figure stiffe as if design'd in buffe His colours laid so thick on every place As onely shew'd the paint but hid the face But as in Perspective we Beauties see VVhich in the Glasse not in the Picture be So here our sight obligeingly mistakes That wealth which his your bounty onely makes Thus vulgar dishes are by Cooks disguis'd More for their dressing than their substance priz'd Your curious Notes so search into that Age VVhen all was fable but the sacred Page That since in that dark night we needs must stray VVe are at least misled in pleasant way But what we most admire your Verse no lesse The Prophet than the Poet doth confesse Ere our weak eyes discern'd the doubtfull streak Of light you saw great Charls his morning break So skilfull Sea-men ken the Land from far VVhich shews like mists to the dul Passenger To Charls your Muse first pays her dutious love As still the Antients did begin from Jove VVith Monck you end whose name preserv'd shall be As Rome recorded Rufus memory VVho thought it greater honor to obey His Countrey 's interest than the world to sway But to write worthy things of worthy men Is the peculiar talent of your Pen Yet let me take your Mantle up and I VVill venture in your right to prophesy This VVork by merit first of Fame secure Is likewise happy in its Geniture For since 't is born when Charls ascends the Throne It shares at once his Fortune and its own JOHN DRIDEN A PANEGYRICK To the KING THE true Parnassus Sir which Muses know Are Subjects which they choose to whom they owe Their Inspirations differing as the times Unhappy Vertues or successfull Crimes The greatest Choyce is where the most Successe Makes Fears as great nor their Ambitions lesse With the Usurped Crowns they strive for Bays Those readier not to Act than These to Praise My Muse Great Sir has no such fears or knows A better Impiration than your Woes To sing those Vertues which are all your own Not brought you by Successes 〈◊〉 a Throne But by the malice of the world withstood So much 't is easier to be Great than Good Which knows no end or change by human things But like the world Eternall whence it springs Greatness is as forbidden Pleasures are Reach'd by th'impious hands that will but dare Attempt all Crimes still scorning a retreat Onely the Bad can be unjustly Great By Falls from Thrones such and the vertuous know What Fate to them or they to Fortune owe. By courage nor by vertue can be staid Fortune which tired grows by lending aid So when all Thrones on Caesar were bestow'd Not Fate to him but he to Fortune ow'd And paid her back the vastest Principall She ever lent in

might have then Perhaps a joy as great as he would have Did he but know you pitty him Prin. In the performance then of what I say He will have more which I so much wish him That you shall witnesse all pursued with haste Nor shall you be a stranger longer to me Yet I shall blush although I give you leave To see the partiality but more time Now spent in grass or leaves would be his injury And we may ruine what we would relieve Should we without attempting succour grieve Exeunt ACT 2. SCEN. 3. Enter Mironault Hyppasus Pysenor Pys WOuld I were a Dog and could lick my self whole I shall be as fly-blown as a ruine cheese How i' st Hyppasus Hyp. But scurvy would we might rest Miro O me 'T is an unhappinesse that I should bring You into these misfortunes you have deserved Better of me and yet you may forgive me I would have shared as much with you Hyp. We would not make such an excuse then Sir Miro You chide me nobly I find I need some rest And yet by all those powers that caused these mischiefs My life shall end them e're I 'le be his prisoner Pys Nay wee 'l all dye I hope 't is no offence To talk of saving our sweet lives In order to that this next fair house Must be our Garrison 't is ten to one But there we find some three or four brown loaves To victuall us for a day perhaps a sample Of good seed-Corn lies in the parlour Cubbard We shall eat moderately come we must advance And storm it Hyp. You have no other way Sir we are so weak There is no refuge else and we are still Hotly pursued if they intend our mischiefs VVe may hold out against that petty number If they raise more we too shall have relief By the Princesse or your friends if not VVe may make some Conditions Miro A wretched shift and yet it may preserve us But let us use it nobly Heaven guide us Pys I 'le advance and knock Within there Ho! knock He struck so hard the bason broke Enter Peter Ho! what a Tarquin's here Pet. VVho have we here Pys Two or three strangers that have lost their way Pet. And you would be directed Pys Pox on your nimble Charity Aside We have been sett upon by thieves and hurt And must desire some small refreshment Pet. Why this 't is The age is grown so perfect now That all fall's in the way of Begging And by the word Refreshment Pys Nay Sir none of your moralities on the age Help us to the speech of the Master Or Mistris of the house It must be so Sir Pet. Here 's neither Pys What the Devil i' st Pet. A Lady Pys Plague on your formall Coxcomb Le ts see your Lady then Pet. That 's more then shee 'l do you Pys By this light but she shall Pet. Had she sworn so she had been for-sworn Pys Sir we would willingly be Civill Pray let 's receive your Ladie 's answer But no more of yours Pet. You shall have it Exit Pys This Rogue has bagg pipes in his Lungs A meer Land-Remora we wanted but the plague To have heard his pedigree He had learn't the policy of the old Roman To ruine by delayes we might have fainted Under his wise Cunc-tator-ship Hyp. 'T was a rare Scene be sure Pysenor You shall have none of the best drink Miro VVhen she comes you shall be chief And we your humble servants Pys And I 'le be insolent enough now Sir For such a Bird as the Princesse Miro Nay Pysenor Pys Hang it this love 't will make your wounds ranckle There 's nothing like a merry plaister Hark I hear them rusling Enter Caeca Ruinever and Peter Mercy on us what have we here December with the too scurvy months at her heels She ha's dig'd up all her ancestors And wrap't their winding sheets about her I 'le advance Caeca VVhere stands he Peter Peter Straight on now must not I proceed For fear I should discover she were blind Pys VVhither a divell will she march She goes straight on Hippasus lie down in the way Hyp. And be hanged put on your serious face Pys Save you sweet Reverence Caeca Are you the Gentleman Peter is this he Pet. Yes forsooth Pys Slight shee 'd have her man make affidavit of it aside VVe are those Madam that would fain obtain Some pitty in your eyes why shee 's blind aside Blind as an old Do-Cunny VVe want a Charity and we hope That your grave years ha's taught you that fair story Caeca From whence come you Pys VVe are Gentlemen and have been hurrby thieves You need not fear to help our hard misfortunes Our weak Conditions cannot threaten danger You may believe we would deserve your kindnesse And our lives which if you preserve Shall wait upon your beauty Hyp. What a dissembling tongue the rogue has aside Pys We went as long as we could gain a leave From weaknesse as unwilling To be a burthen to any but our fates Threw us on you for which we dare not chide them Hyp. This rogue would court a bitch aside Pys Sirrah I 'le fit you Caeca A fine well-spoken gentleman Pys For if we did we should be too unjust For you must needs be good because the gods Let you so long live to instruct the world Or else afraid of your blind company aside But at your feet We throw our selves and all our miseries And cancell fear whilst we exp●ct to hear Our doom from your fair lips Caeca Quinever Quin. Madam Caeca I' st a handsome man Quin. Yes indeed as e're I saw Caeca I feel just such a Qualm as I had When I was still falling in love he has a sweet tongue Noble gentleman you 're very welcome You shall have all you want pray come neer Indeed I am much taken with your speech 'T is very curteous once in my youth I understood these complements And have not yet forgot them I shall remember them more fresh If you repeat them Pys Why so I shall be engaged to tell tales aside In the chimney-corner Caec Peter Go in get the best chambers ready Let them have something presently to eat Pray come ●n you 'r very welcom Your hand good Sir Pys We are your servants Now do I walk Like the great Turk that newly has put out The eyes of an old kinswoman Here we shall find Good Fortune sure for that whore too is blind Exeunt ACT. 2. SCEN. 4. Enter King solus Kin. HOw much unknown is reall happinesse And all are cheated with the name of thing Or we are all deceiv'd or else the joy Grows poor by the enjoyment to me A Crown 's a glorious misery Suspition waits on all our appetites And sleep not pleases but affrights Kings have hard ways for to preserve a Crown To give to others fears and hide their own The way 's but narrow between frowns and smiles To avoid both Contempt and

purchase glorious praise And spoils as ample as your powers when fame Shall tell Two gods one woman overcame Nor am I blinded so but it appears The walls of rising Carthage cause your fears But why these quarrells rather let them cease In Hymen's bonds wrapt in eternal peace Your wishes all are crown'd in Dido's flames Which fill instead of bloud her burning veins With equall power and kindnesse let us sway These severall Nations let her too obey A Phrygian Lord and unto thy desire Submit the Tyrians and the wealth of Tyre To her for she perceiv'd a crafty mind Sent all these words by which she had design'd To Lybian shores th' Italian crown to joyne Venus replies Who is it will decline What you propose or is so void of sense To chuse to have with you a difference If the fates yield to your propos'd intents But varying fates I fear if Jove consents That Troy and Carthage should as one be joyn'd The mingled Nations too by leagues combind You that enjoy his breast 't is just that you Attempt his mind I 'le second what you do The Queen of Heaven then replies That toil And labour shall be mine A little while I aske you now to hear whilst I lay down The means which our designes at last may crown Aeneas with the wretched Queen prepares In woods and hunting to divert their cares When the next rising Sun gives day a birth And with his raies shews the unvailed earth Upon the Hunters whilst the game 's pursu'd A storm sweld big with hail in blacknesse brew'd Its fury shall discharge at the same time The Heavens to the storm shall Thunder joyn Th' affrighted Hunters all shall take their flight Confus'd in darknesse as if lost in night The Prince and Queen shall flye for shelter too Into one Cave if we receive from you Your promis'd aid there Hymen being by Wee 'l make her thy perpetuall Votary Fair Cytherea finding her designes Smiles and in shew to what she ask't inclines In the mean time the Sun the briny streams Of Neptune leav's the youth rise with his beams And forth the toyl's and well-nos'd hounds are brought With spears whose tops were round with Iron wrought Next marching forth Massylian troops are seen The Punick Princes all expect their Queen Who slower than the rest forsakes her bed Whilst her proud horse stands r●chly furnished In purple on which Gold in windings flow's Champing his bitt in foam his mettall show's At length attended by a noble train Clad in a rich Sydonian robe she came Her quiver gold her hair too weaved lies In gold and gold her purple garments ties The Phrygians next advance and before these Ascanius came whom youthfull hopes did please Of promis'd sport with these Aeneas joyns And all the troop in charming looks out-shines As when cold Lycia and where Xanthus flowes Apollo leav's his visits now bestowes Upon his native Delos where again The Driopes and Cretans fill his train With Agathyrsians whom strange colours dye And in wild motions round the Altars flye VVhilst he upon the top of Cynthus goes His flowing hair soft laurell-wreaths inclose Through which the weaved gold its lustre flung And at his back his ratling Quiver hung Nor did Aeneas looks admit an odds But with his lustre equalled the gods VVhen new these troops unto the hills arrive And beat the unfrequented shades they drive VVild goats from their high holds and wing'd with fear On t'other side rush down vast heards of Deer But young Ascanius in the vales employes Himselfe and in his horse's fiercenesse joyes Now vi●s with these now others leaves behind And wanting beasts to chase wishes to find A chasing Boar o're-spread with rage and foam Or from the hills to see a Lion come Whilst thus he wish't lowd murmurs fill the skie Follow'd by storms of hail the hunters flie For severall shelters whilst amazed sight From mountains tops sees Rivers take their flight The Queen and Trojan Prince seeking to save Themselves from storms meet in one fatall cave The earth first shook and Juno gave the signe And at such rites ungentle flashes shine While through the conscious aire the Marriage-song VVas howls of Nymphs which from the mountains rung This day first usher'd death and from this day Misfortunes took their birth nor did she weigh Her present act or think of future fame Nor could this amorous theft beget a shame She cal'd it marriage with a fond designe Believing in the name to hide the crime But quickly now that slighted fame took wings And all the newes through Lybian Cities flings Unto ill fame compar'd swift things are sloath For as it flies it gathers strength and growth Fear keeps it low at first but free from dread Quickly in clouds hides its aspiring head To Caeus and Enceladus the earth Brooded on by the rage of gods gave birth Unto this sister last than winds more fleet Swift in her wings and not lesse swift in feet A horrid and strange monster as she flyes Under her feathers hides an hundred eyes As many mouths nor furnisht lesse with ears As many tongues to tell the tales she hears When night has spread her shades through heaven she flies Nor has soft sleep the power to close her eyes By day where poor and great men live she sits And with her tales gives Citties shaking fits The false and true alike to people brings With equall joy things done and undone sings Of Troy's great Prince she quickly did report How entertaind in Dido's breast and court Unmindfull of their Crowns ruld now by lust The winter spent in passions too unjust Among the rest to whom she spread this Fame It quickly unto King Hiarbas came The storie rais'd his furie who was son To Jove from ravisht Garamantis sprung An hundred Temples he to Jove had rais'd As many shrines where constant fires still blaz'd The Gods perpetuall watch th'enriched ground With blood th'entrances with garlands crown'd The bitter news rage and distraction brings To fill his breast who in his fur●e flings Before the Altars of the gods and there With raised hands sends this disputing pray'r Great Jove to whom on beds that richly shine We Moors indulge our feasts with sparkling wine Seest thou these things or shall we free from fright See the dark air with sudden flashes bright And dreadlesse at thy winged lightnings flame Or slighted Thunders find our fears were vain A wandring woman on our shores that pay'd For leave and place to live on and obey'd Our laws dares now despise our marriage bed For one Aeneas to her Kingdom fled This Paris with his troope that scarsly are Like men in their soft robes and perfum'd hair Enjoys my passion's object whilst we raise In vain to thee our offerings and our praise Whilst thus expostulating-pray'rs he fent Holding the Altars still th' Omnipotent To Carthage turns his eyes where passion's flame Had in the Lovers burnt the thoughts of Fame Then calling

abditum Cum Titan medium constituit diem Ci●get turba lice●s Na●ades improbae Formosos solitae cla●dere fontibus Et somnis facient insidias tuis L●s●ivae nemo r●m deae Montiv●gique Panes For whilst in shades you bide and day 's Divided by the god of Rayes The Naiades thy beauty moves Who in their fountains shut their Loves And the lascivious gods that keep In woods will court thee in thy sleep The question Whether Spirits affect carnall copulation hath been disputed by many I shall onely relate these few opinions P●utar●h de Or●culor defect saith that fury attendeth their unsatiated last Paracelsus relateth stories of some who have been married to mortall men Cardane de Subtilit variet rerum saith They are as apt as dogs to be familiar with men Plato was believed to have been begotten on a Virgin by the phantasm of Apollo by reason of his admirable wisdom Cardane de var. subt rer lib. 16. c. 43. speaketh of some who had had familiar company with Spirits for many years And Agrippa de occ●lta Philos lib. 3. cap. 24. saith Sunt adhu●●o●ie qui commercium conjugalem commixtionem habent cum Daemonibus Burton in his MELANCHOLY relateth a story of Menippus Lucius That between Cen●hrea and C●rinth he met a Spirit in the habit of a fair Gentlewoman and deceived by her allurements married her To the Wedding among other guests came Apollonius who by conjectures found her to be a Spirit When she saw her self discovered she begged of Apollonius to be silent But he refusing she vanished with all her house and furniture Sabinus in Ovid Metam lib. 10. hath the like story Florilegus ad Ann. 1●58 telleth of a young Gentleman of Rome who the same day he was married going to play at Tennis put his ring on the finger of the image of Venus and returning to take off his ring Venus had bent-in her finger so that he could not get it off Whereupon loath to make his company stay he left it intending the next day to use some other means for it Night being come and going to bed to his Bride Venus interposed between telling him He had betrothed himself to her by the ring he put upon her finger and thus troubled him for many nights till by the advice of Palumbus a Magician he was released from his unwelcome Lover Lavater de spectr part 1. cap. 19. telleth this story I have heard saith he a grave and a wise man in the Territory of Tigure who affirmed that as he and his servant went through the pastures in the summer time very early he espied one as he thought whom he knew very well wickedly committing lewdnesse with a Mare At which being amazed he returned back again and knocked at his house whom he supposed he had seen There he certainly understood that the man had not been that morning from his chamber Vpon which discreetly searching into the businesse he saved the man who else had suffered for the deluding Damon Corn. Agrip. de ocult Philos l. 3. c. 19. citeth a passage in St. Augustine that Spirits are subject to these lusts And Mr. Burton quoteth Pererius in Gen. lib. 8. c. 6. v. 1. who affi meth that these Genii can beget and have carnall copulation with women In that fair Temple of Belus as Herodotus saith there was a Chappell in which was splendidè stratus lectus apposita ●ens● aurea Into this adorned bed none came but the woman whom the god made choice of as the Chaldean Priests told him and their god lay with her himself Of this opinion is Lactantius And Lipsius relateth proofs thereof in his daies in the City of L●vain Further discourse on this point I shall reserve for a place more worthy of it 75. If Hercules thus learn'd to spin The● is being come to the Island where she intended to place her son letteth him know that for his safety she would put him into woman's habit And knowing that the greatnesse of his spirit would scorn such a disguise she sertteth Hercules before him who at the command of Omphale in such a dresse sat spinning Seneca Hippolyto act 1. Natus Al●mtna posuit pharetram Et minax vasti spolium Leonis Passus aptari digiti● smaragdos Et dari legem rudibus c●pillis Crura distincto religavit ●uro Luteo p'ant●● cohibente socco Et manu clavam modo quâ gerebat Fr●d deduxit properante fuso Vidit Perses ditisque s●r●x Lydia regni dejecta seri Terga Leonis bumerisqu● quibus Sederat alti regia coeli Tenu●m Tyrio stamine pallam Vid Herc. Furent v. 465. Herc. Oct. v. 372. Great Hercules once threw away His Quiver and the Lion's prey His fingers he adorns with rings And his rude hair in order brings His legs with gold embraced round His feet with yellow buskins bound That hand which so well arm'd had been With his great Club now learns to spin By Persians and rich Lydians scorn'd Not with his Lion's skin adorn'd Those shoulders on which Heav'n should rest Were in a woman's habit drest 77. If Bacchus Bacchus also disguised himself in a Virgin 's habit for fear of his mother-in-law Juno Senec. O●dip v. 417. Mythologers understand this of the effects of Wine which sometimes rendreth men esteminate and otherwhile giveth courage to the most womanish mind And therefore was Bacchus said to be of both sexes Origen lib. 3. contra Celsum saith that Bacchus was thought sometimes to have worn a woman's habit Eusebius de Pr●p Evang. l. 3 c. 9. giveth this reason why a woman's form and therefore habit was ascribed to ●acchus ●t vim illam quae plantarum fructi●us i●est ex mascula foemineaque conflatam significet To signifie that the strength was of both kinds by which fruits were produced 78. And Jove himself The story is commonly known Jupiter going to visit the world injur'd by Phaeton's Lightning employed his first care on Arcadia where his eyes told his heart such wonders of Colisto's beauty that he counterfeited the shape and dresse of Dianae Quis Divûm fraudibus obstet and so enjoyed the deceived Calisto 〈◊〉 Metamorph. lib. 2. ● Coeneus Who being ravished by Neptune and having the grant of ●ish for her recompence desired to alter her sex that she might ●●r suffer such a misfortune more Unto this the too kind god added her beeing invulnerable Yet in the battell of the Centaurs and the Lapithae she was pressed to death So impossible it is for power any way applied in this world to alter destiny Nor do our fond attempts give occasion to Him above to appoint new accidents It is He that permits those fond attempts and letteth them be the means of those accidents which we would most avoid The fable sometimes goeth that she had power to change her sex Otherwise the sense remaineth not perfect In the other World Virgil sheweth her in her first sex Aen. 6. v. 448. Et juvenis quondam nunc