fall Be true of Lerma Duke and Cardinall Marry in France we feare no blood but wine Lesse danger 's in her sword then in her vine And thus we leave the blazers comming over For our portents are wise and end at Dovâ—… And though we use no forward censuring Not send our learned Proctors to the King Yet every morning when the starre doth rise There is no blacke for three houres in our eyes But like a Puritane dreamer towards this light All eyes turne upward all are zeale and white More it is doubtfull that this prodigie Will turne ten Schooles to one Astronomy And the Analysis we justly feare Since every Art doth seeke for resene there Physitians Lawyers Glovers on the stall The Shopkeepers speake Mathematicks all And though men read no Gospels in these signes Yet all professions are become Divines All weapons from the Bodk in to the Pike The Masons Rule and Tailors Yard alike Take altitudes and th'early sidling knaves On Fluirs and Hoboyes made them Jacobs slaves Lastly of fingers glasses we contrive And every first is made a Prospective Burton to Gunter Cants and Burton heares From Gunter and thâ—… Exchange both tongue eare By carriage thus doth mired Guy complaine His Waggon in their letters beates Charles Waine Charles Waine â—…o which they say the tayle will reach And at this distance they both heare and teach Now for the peace of God and men advise Thou that hast wherewith all to make us wise Thine owne rich studies and deepe Harriors mine In which there is no drosse but all refine O tell us what to trust to lest we wax All stiffe and stupid with his paralex Say shall the old Philosophy be true Or doth he ride above the Moone thinke you Is he a Meteor forced by the Sun Or a first body from creation Hath the same starre beene object of the wonder Of our forefathers shall the same come under The sentence of our Nephewes write and send Or else this starre a quarrell doth pretend Doctor Corbet to the Lord Mordant MY Lord I doe confesse at the first newes Of your returne from home I did refuse To visit you for feare the Northerne winde Had pierc'd into your manners and your minde For feare you might want memory to forget Some arts of which might haunt you yet But when I knew you were and when I heard You were at Woodstocke seene well sun'd and ayr'd That your contagion in you now was spent And you were just Lord Mordant as you went I then resolv'd to come and did not doubt To be in season though the Bucke was out Windsor the place the day was Holy-rood Saint George my muse for be it understood For all Saint George more early in the yeare Broke fast and eate a bit yet he din'd here And though in Aprill in red inke he shine Know 't 'twas September made him red with wine To this good sport rode I as being allow'd To see the King and cry him in the crowd And at all solemne meetings have the grace To thrust and to be trod on by my place Where when I come I see the Church beset With tumults as had all the breâ—…n met To heare some silenc'd teacher in that quarter In veigh against the Order of the Garter And justly might the weake be griev'd and wrung Because the Garter prayes in a strange tongue And doth retaine traditions yet of France In an old Honi soit qui maly pense Whence learne those Knights that order that have raâ—… That all besides the buckle is prophane But there was no such doctrine now at stake No starv'd physitian from the pulpit spake And yet the Church was full all sorts of men Religions sexes ages were there then Whilst he that keepes the Quire togother locks Papists and Puritanes the Pope and Knâ—… Which made some wise men feare that love our nation This mixture would be get a toleration Or that Religion should united be When they said Service these the Letany But no such hast this dayes devotion lies Not in the hearts of men but in their eyes They that doe see Saint George heare him aright For he loves not to parley but to fight Amongst this audience my Lord stood I Well edified as any that stood by And knew how many leggs a Knight lets fall Betwixt the King the offring and his stall Aske me but of their robes I shall relate The colour and the fashion and the state I saw too the procession without doore What the pooâ—…e Knights and what the Prebends wore All this my neighbours that were by me tooke Who div'd but in the garment and the looke But I saw more and though I have their fate In place and favour yet I want their pate Me thought I then did these first ages know Which brought forth Knights so arm'd and looking so Who would maintaine their oath and bind their word With these two seales an Altar and a Sword Then saw I George new Sainted when such Priests Wore him not onely on but in their breasts Oft did I wish that day with open vow O that my Country were in danger noâ—… And 't was no treason who could feare to die When he was sure his rescue was so nigh And here I might a just digression make Whilst of some particular Knights I spake To whom I owe my thankes but 't were not best By praysing two or three t' accuse the rest Nor can I sing that order or those men That are above the mysterie of my pen And private fingers may not touch those things Whose authors Princes are whose partners Kings Wherefore imburnt I will refraine that fire Lest hearing such a Theame I should aspireâ—… T' include my King and Prince and so rehearse Names fitter for my Prayer then my Verse He that will speake of Princes let him use More grace then wit know God's above his Muse No more of counsell harke the Trumpets sound And the grave Organs with the Antheme drown'd The Church had said Amen to all their rites And now the Trojan horse lets loose her Knights The triumph moves O what could added be Save your successe to that solemnity Which I expect and doubt not but to see 't When the Kings favour and your worth shall meet I thinke the robes will now be come you so Saint George himselfe would not his owne Knights know From the Lord Mordant Pardon me that preach A doctrine onely that King James can teach To whom I leave you who alone hath right To make Knights Lords and you a Lord a Knight Imagine now the Scene lies in the hall For at high noone we are â—…sants all The Church is emptie as the bellies were Of the spectators that had languish there And now the favorites of the Clearke o' th' checke Who oft had yawnd and stretcht our many a necke Twixt morne and evening the dull seeders on Fresh patience and raysâ—…s of the Sun They who liv'd in the Hall five
those That feast them onely to enclose Or with their Roastmeat rack their â—â—â—â—â— And cousen them with their 〈…〉 consents No the free meeting of his board Did but one liberall sense afford No Close or Aker understood But onely love and neighbourhood His Almes were such as Paul defines Nor causes to be said but â—â—â—â—â—â— Which Almes by faith hope love laid downe I ayd up what now he weaâ—… a Crowne Besides his fame his goods his life He left a griev'd sonne and wife Strange sorrow scarce to be bâ—leev'd When as a sonne and heire is griev'd R. Corbet On the death of Master Rice Manciple of Christ-Church WHo can doubt Rice to what eternall place Thy soule is fled that did but know thy face Whose body was so light it might have gone To heaven without a resurrection Indeed thoâ—… wert all Type thy limbes were signes Thy Arteries but Mathematick lines As iâ—… two soules had made the compound good Which both should live by faith and none by blood R. C. To his sonne Vincent Corbet WHat I shall leave thee none can tell But all shall say I wish thee well I wish thee Vin before all wealth Both bodily and ghostly health Nor too much wealth nor wit come to thee So much of either may undoe thee I wish thee learning not for show Enough for to instruct and know Not such as Gentlemen require To prate at Table or at Fire I wish thee all thy mothers graces Thy fathers fortunes and his places I wish thee friends and one'at Couâ—…t Not to build on but support To keepe thee not in doing many Oppressions but from suffering any I wish thee pâ—…ace in all thy wayâ—… Nor Lazy nor contentious dayâ—…s And when thy soule and body part As innocent as now thou aâ—… R. C. An Elegy on the late Lord William Howard Baron of Effingham dead the 10. of December 1615. I Did not know thee Lord nor doe I strive To winne accesse or grace with Lords alive The dead I serve from whence nor faction can Move me nor favour nor a greater man To whom no vice commends me nor bribe sent Frâ—… whom no Penance warnes nor portion spent To these I dedicate as much of me As I can spare from my owne husbandry And till Ghosts walke as they were wont to doe I trade for some and doe these errants too But first I doe enquire and am assur'd What tryals in their Journeys they endur'd What certainties of Honour and of worth Their most uncertaine Life times have brought forth And who so did least hurt of this small store He is my patron dy'd he rich or poore First I will know of Fame after his peace When Flattery and Envy both doe cease Who rulâ—…d his actions Reason or my Lord Did the whole man relie upon a word A badge of Title or above all chance Seem'd he as Ancient as his Cognisance What did he Acts of mercy and refraine Oppreâ—…ions in himselfe and in his Traine Was his essentiall table full as free As boasts and invitations use to be Where if his Russet-friend did chance to dine Whether his Satten-man would fill him wine Did he thinke perjury as lovâ—…d a sinne Himselfe for sworne as is his slave had beene Did he seeke regular pleasures was he knowne Just Husband of one Wife and she his owne Did he give freely without pâ—…use or doubt And read petitions ere they were worne out Or should his well-deserving Client aske Would he bestow a Tilting or a Maske To keepe need vertuous And that done not feare What Lady damn'd him for his absence there Did he attend the Court for no mans fall Wore he the ruine of no Hospitall And when he did his rich apparell don Put he no Widow nor an Orphan on Did he love simple vertue for the thing The King for no respect but for the King But above all did his Religion wait Upon Gods Throne or on the Chaire of state He that is guiltie of no Quaere here Our-lasts his Epitaph our-lives his Heire But there is none such none so little bad Who but this negative goodnesse ever had Of such a Lord we may expect the birth He 's rather in the wombe than on the earth And 't were a Crime in such a publike fate For one to live well and degenerate And therefore I am angry when a name Comes to upbraid the World like Eâ—…ingham Nor was it modest in thee to de part To thy eternall home where now thou art Ere thy reproach was ready or to dye Ere custome had prepar'd thy calumny Eight dayes have past since thou hast paid thy debt To sinne and not a libell stirring yet Courtiers that scoffe by Patent silent sit And have no use of Slander or of wit But which is monstrous though against the tide The Water-men have neither rayld nor lide Of good and bad there 's no distinction knowne For in thy praise the good and bad are one It seemes we all are coverous of Fame And hearing what a purchase of good name Thou lately mad'st are carefull to increase Our title by the holding of some lease From thee our Land-lord and for that th' whole câ—…ue Speake now like Tenants ready to renew It were too sad to tell thy pedegâ—…ee Death hath disordered all misplacing thee Whilst now thy Herauld in his line of heires Blots out thy name and fils the space with teares And thus hath conqu'ring death or nature rather Made thee prepostrous ancient to thy Father Who grieves th' art sâ—… and like a glorious light Shines ore thy Hâ—…arse He therefore that would write And blaze thee throughly may at once say all Here lies the Anchor of our Admirall Let others write for glory or reward Truth is well paid when the is sung and heard R. Corbet An Epitaph on Doctor Donne Deane of Pauls HE that would write an Epitaph for thee And doe it well must â—…st begin to be Such as thou wert for none can truly know Thy worth thy life but he that hath liv'd so He must have wit to spare and to huâ—…le downe Enough to keepe the Gallams of the Towne He must have learning plenty both the Laws Civill and Common to judge any cause Divinitie great store above the rest Not of the last Edition but the best He must have language â—…ravaile all the Arts Judgement to use or else hee wants thy parts He must have friends the highest able to doe Such as Mecanâ—…s and Augustus too He must have such a sicknesse such a death Or else his vaine descriptions come beneath Who then shall write an Epitaph for thee He must be dead first let 't alone for me R. Corbet Upon Mistris Mallet HAve I renounc'd my faith or basely sold Salvation or my loyalty for gold Have I some foâ—… in practice undertooke By poyson shot sharpe knife or sharper looke To kill my King have I beâ—…ay'd the State To fire or fury or some newer fate Which learn'd murtherers
grasse for horse or cattle for they say It is not cut and made grasse there growes hay Then 't is so seething hor they sweare You never heard of raw Oyster there Your cold meate comes in reeking there your wint Is all burnt Sacke the fire was in the vine Item the Pullers are distinguisht there Into soure quarters as we branch the yeare And are a weeke a wasting Munday noone A wing at supper something with a spoone Tuesday a leg and so forth Sunday more The Liver and the gizzards betwixt foure As for the mutton in the best house holder 'T is felony to cheapen a whole shoulder Lord how our stomacks come to us againe When we conceive what snatching is in Spaine I whilst I write and doe your newes repeate Am forc'r to call for breakefast in and eate And doe you wonder at this dearth the while The flood that makes it runs i th' middle Ile Poets of Pauls these of Duke Humâ—… messe That feed on naught but graves and emptinesse But hearke you noble Sir in one crosse weeke My Lord hath lost 4000. l. at Gleeke And sith they doe allow you little meate They are content your losses should be great False on my Deanery â—…alser then your sare is Or then the difference with the Grand d'Olivaries Which was reported strongly for one tide But after six houres flowing eb'd and dy'd If God would not this great designe should be Perfect and round without some knavery Nor that our Prince should end this enterprize But for so many tales so many lies 〈…〉 for a good intent the heavens may please â—…ens tongues should become rougher then the â—…as â—…nd that th' expence of paper should be such â—…irst written then translated out of Dutch â—…urrants diaries packets newes more newes Which innocent whitenesse constanâ—…ly abuse 〈…〉 first the Belgick pismire must be seene Before the Spanish Lady be our Queene With that successe and such an end at last All 's welcome pleasant gratefull that is past And such an end I pray that you may see A type of that which mother Zebedee Wisht for her Sonnes in heaven the Prince and you At either hand of James you need not sue Him on the right you on the lest the King Safe in the middest you both invironing Then shall I tell my Lord his words and band Are forfeit till I kisse the Prince his hand Then shall I tell the Duke our royall friend How all your other honours this hath earn'd This you have wâ—…ought for this you hammerd out Like a strong Smith good workman and a stout In this I have a part in this I see Some new addition smiling upon me Who in an humble manner crave my share In all your greatnesse whatso'ere they are R. Corbet Upon the death of the Lady Haddington dying of the Small Pox DEare losse to tell the world I griey'd were true But that were to bewayle my selfe not you That were to cry out helpe for my affaires For which nor publike thoughts nor private cares For when thy sate I publish among men I should have power to write with the States pen I should by naming thee force publique teares And bid their eyes pay ransome for their eares First thy whole life was a short feast of wit And death the attendant which did wait on it To both mankind doth owe devotion ample To that their first to this their last example And though 't were fame enough with thee where same And vertueâ—… nothing but an ample name That thou wert highly borne which no man doubts And so might swathe base deeds in noble clouts Yet thou thy selfe in titles didst nor shroud And being noble wast not soule nor proud And when thy fruit was ripe when all the suite Of all the longing Courtiers for thy fruit How wisely didst thou choose soure blessed eyes The Kings and thine had taught thee to be wise Did not the best of men the Virgin give Into his hands by whom himselfe did live Nor did they two yeares after talke of force Or Lady-like make suite for a divorse Who when their owne vile lust is fully spent Cry out my Lord my Lord is impotent Nor hast thou in his Nuptiall armes injoyd Barren embraces but sweet girld and boyd Twice pretty ones twice worthy were their youth Mighâ—…t thou but bring them up that broughtst them foâ—… She would have taught them by a thousand straines Her blood runs in their manners not their veines That glory is a lie slate a grave sport And country sicknesse above breath at Court Oh what a want of her losse gallants have Since she hath changed her window for a grave From whence she wont to datt her wit so fast And sticke them in their Coaches as they past Who now shall make well coloured vice looke pale And a â—…rld mâ—…eor with her eyes exhale And talke him into nothing who shall dare Tell barren braine they live in fertile ayre Who now shall keepe old Countesses in awe And by â—…att similies repentance draw From those whom Pâ—…achers had given orâ—… some such Whom Sâ—…mons could not reach her arrowes touch Hereafter fooles shall prosper with applause And wise men smild and no man aske the cause He of soâ—… score three night caps and two haâ—…ds Shall marry her of twenty and get lieirâ—…s Which shall be thought his owne and none shall say But 't is a wondrous blessing and he may â—…or whichis more then pitty many a knight Who can doe more then quarrell lesse then fight Shall choose his weapons ground draw seconds thither Put up his sword and not be laught at neither O thou deformed unwoman-like disgrace Thou plowst up flesh and blood and there foâ—…st peace And leaves such print on beauty if thou come As cloured shooes doe on 〈…〉 â—…oore of loome Thou that of faces huny â—…bes lost â—…ke And of two breast 〈…〉 forsake Thy deadly trade thou art now rich give ore Or if thou needst wilt magnifie thy power Goe where thou art invoked every houre Amongst the gamesters where they call thee thick At the last maine of the last pockie nick Get thee a lodging where thy clients dice There thou shall practise on more then one vice There 's where withall to entertain the pox Ther'e 's more then reason cousening for the Box Thou who hast such superfluous store of gaine Why stickst thou on whose ruine is thy shame O thou hast murdered where thou shouldst have kist And where thy â—…hast was needfull there thou mist Thou shouldst have chosen out some homely face Where thy ill favoured kindnesse might adde grace That men might say How beaâ—…ous once was she Or what a peece ere she was seaâ—… by thee Thou shouldst have wrought upon some Ladies mould That nere did love her Lord nor never could Untill she were deform'd this crueltie Were then within the rule of charitie But upon one whose beautie was above All sort of beautie whose love was more then
love On her to fix thy ugly counterfeit Was to erect a Pyramis of Jeaâ—… And put out fire to dig a curse from hell And place it where a blessed soule should dwell A soule which in the body would not stay When 't was no more a body nor good clay But a high ulcer O thou heavenly race Thou soule which 〈…〉 â—…tion of thy case Thy house thy prison Soule 〈…〉 faire Rest where no health no cold noâ—… compounds are Rest in that Country and enjoy that case Which thy fraile flesh divides and thy disease R. Corbet A proper new Ballad intituled The Fairies farewel or God a mercy Will to be sung or whistled to the tune of the Medow Brow by the learned by the unlearned to the tune of Fortune FArewell rewards and Fairies Good housewives now may say For now sowle sluts in Dairies Do fare as well as they And though they sweepe their hearths no lesse Then maides were wont to doe Yet who of late for cleanlinesse Findes Six pence in her shooe Lament lament old Abbies The Fairies lost command They did but change Priests babies But some have chang'd your land And all your children stolne from thence Are now growne puritanes Who live as changelings ever since For love of your demaines At morning and at evening both You merry were and glad So little care of sleepe and sloath These pretty Ladies had When Tom came home from labour Or Cisse to milking Rose Then merrily went their Tabor And nimbly went their Toes Witnesse those rings and rounde layes Of theirs which yet remaine Were sooted in Queene Maries dayes On many a grassy plaine But since of late Elizabeth And later James came in They never daunc'd on any heath As when the time had beene By which we nore the Fairies Were of the old profession Their Songs were Ave Maries Their daunces were procession But now alas they all are dead Or gone beyond the Seas Or further from Religion fled Or else they take their case A tell-tale in their company They never could endtire And who so kept not secretly Their mirth was punisht sure It was a just and Christian deed To pinch such black and blew O how the Common-wealth doth need Such Iustices as you Now they have left our Quarters A Register they have Who can preserve their Charters A Man both wise and grave A hundred of their merry pranks By one â—…hat I could name Are kept in store con twenty thank To William for the same To William Churne of Staffordshire Give laud and praises due Who every meale can mend your cheere With Tales both old and true To William all give audience And pray you for his Noddle For all the Fairies evidence Were lost if it were addle To the Ghost of Rob. Wisdome THou once a Body now but ayre Arch-botcher of a Psalme or Prayer From Carfaux come And paâ—…h us up a zealous Lay With an old Aver and for aye Or all and some Or such a Spirit lend me As may a Hymn down send me To purge my brain So Robert look behinde thee Lest Turk or Pope doe finde thee And goe to bed again An Epitaph on Tho. Jonce HEre for the nonce Came Thomas Jonce In St. Jileses Church to lye None Welch before None Welshman more Till Shon Clerk dye I le role the Bell I le ring his Knell He dyed well He 's saved from Hell And so farewell Tom Jonce On the Earl of Dorsets Death LEt no prophane ignoble soot tread here This hallowed piece of Earth Dorset lyes there A small poor Relique of a Noble spirit Free as the Alre and ample as his Merit A soul refin'd no proud forgetting Lord But mindfull of mean names and of his word Who lov'd men for his Honour not his ends And had the noblest way of getting friends By loving first and yet who knew the Court But understood it better by report Then practise He nothing took from thence But the Kings favour for his recompence Who for Religion or his Countreys good Neither his Honour valued nor his blood Rich in the worlds opinion and mens praise And full in all we could desire but dayes He that is warn'd of this and shall for beare To vent a sigh for him or shed a teare May he live long scorn'd and unpitied fall And want a Mourner at his Funerall R. Corbet On Henry Bolings IF gentlenesse could tame the Fates or wiâ—… Deliver man Bolings had not dyed yet But one which over us in judgement sits Doth say our sins are stronger then our wiâ—… R. Corbet The Authors Answer SO to deâ—…d Hector boyes may doe disgrace That durst not look upon his living face So worst of men behinde their betters back May stretch mens names and credit on the rack Good friend our generall tye to him that 's gone Should love the man that yearly doth him mone The Authors zeale and place he now doth hold His love and duty makes him be thus bold To offer this poor mite his Anniverse Unto his good great Masters scared Herse The which he doth with priviledge of name Whilst others 'midst their Ale in Corners blame A penny-worth in Print they never made Yet think themselves as good as Pond or Dade One Anniverse when thou hast done thus twice Thy words among the best will be of Price Dr. Price A Reply NOr is it griev'd grave Youth the memorie Of such a Story such a Book as he That such a Copy through the world were read Henry yet lives though he be buryed I could be wisht that every day could beare Him our good witnesse that he still were here That sorrow râ—…l'd the yeare and by that sun Such Man could tell you how the day had run O'twere an honest cause for him could say I have been busie and wept out the day Remembring him an Epitaph would last Were such a Trophee such a Banner plac't Upon his Herse as this Here a man lyes Was slain by Henry's date not Destinies But for a Cobler to throw up his Cap And cry The Prince the Prince O dire mishap Or a 〈…〉 Bridegroom after grace To throw his Spouse i' th fire or scratch her face To the tune o' th' Lamentation and delay His Friday Capon till the Sabbath-day Or an old Popish Lady half vow'd dead To fast away the day with Ginger-bread For him to write such Annalls All these things Doe open laughter and shut up griefs springs Wherefore Vertummâ—… if you Print the next Bring better votes or choose a meaner Text R. Corbet FINIS
after enters the whole rayle As if they were committed to the Jayle The Constable that tooke 'em thus divided Made 'em seeme apprehended and not guided Where when wee had our fortunes both detesâ—…ed Compassion made us friends and so we rested T was quickly morning though by our short stay Wee could not find that wee had lesse to pay All Travellers these heavy judgements heare A handsome hostesse makes a reckoning deare Her smiles her words your purses must requâ—… 'em And every welcome from her adds an Item Glad to be gone from hence at any rate For Bosworth wee are hors'd behold the sate Of mortall men foule error is a mother And pregnant once doth soone beget another Wee who last night did learne to lose our way Are perfect since and further out next day And in a Forest having travaild sore Like wandring Bevi 〈…〉 he found the Boare Or as some Love-sicke Lady ofâ—… hath done Before she was rescued by the knight oâ—…th Sunne So are we lost and meet no comfort then But Carts and horses wiser then the men Which is the way They neither speake nor point Their tongues and fingers both are out of joynt Such monsters by Cole Herton banks there sit After their Resurrection from the pit Whiles in this Mill wee labour and turne round As in a Conjurers circle William found A meanes for our delivery Turne your clokes Quoth he for Pucke is busie in these Oakes If ever ye at Bosworth will be found Then turne your Cloakes for this is Fairie ground But e're this witchcraft was perform'd wee meete A very man who had not cloven feere Though William still of little saith doth doubt 'T is Robin or some Spirit walkes about Strike him quoth he and it will turne to aire Crosse your selves thrice and strike him Strike that dare Thought I for sure this massie Forester In blowes will prove the better Conjurer But 't was a gentle keeper one that knew Humanity and manners where they grew And rode along with us till he could say Loe yonder Bosworth stands and this your way And now when we had sweat 'twixt Sunne and Sunne And eight miles long to thirty broade had runne Wee learn'd the just proportion from hence Of the Diameter and Circumference That night made yet amends our meate our sheeres Were farre above the promise of those streetes Those houses that were til'd with straw and mosse Promis'd but weake repaire for that dayes losse Of patience yet this outside lets us know The worthy'st things make not the greatest show The shot was easie and what concernes us more The way was so mine host did ride before Mine host was full of Ale and History And on the morrow when he brought us high Where the two Roses joyned you would suppose Chaueer nere writ the Romant of the Rose Heare him see yee yond' woods there Richard lay With his whole Army looke the other way And loe where Richmond in a bed of grosse Encamp'd himselfe o're night with all his sorce Upon this Hill they met why he could tell The Inch where Richmond stood where Richard sell Besides what of his knowledge he could say Hee had Authenrique notice from the Play Which I might guesse by 's mustrimg up the Ghosts And policies not incident to hosts But chiefly by that one perspicuous thing Where he mistooke a Player for a King For when he would have said King Richard dy'd And call'd a Horse a Horse he Burbage cry'd How e're his talke his company pleas'd well His Mare went truer then his Chronicle And even for Conscience sake uns purr'd unbeaten Brought us sixe miles and turn'd taile to New-Eaton From thence to Coventrey where we scarce dine Onely our stomachs warm'd with zeale and wine And thence as if wee were predestin'd sorch Like Lot from Sodome flye to Killingworth The keeper of the Castle was from home So that halfe mile was lost yet when wee come An host receives us there wee ne're deny him My Lord of Losters man the Parson by him Who had no other proose to testifie He serv'd the Lord but age and bawdery Away for shame why should three miles divide Warwicke and us they that have horses ride A short mile from the Towne an humble shrine At foote of a high rocke consists in signe Of Guy and his devotions who there stands Ugly and huge more then a man on 's hands His Helmet steele his Gorget Mayle his Shield Brasse made the Chappell fearfull as a field And let this answer all the Popes complaints Wee set up Gyants though wee pull downe Saints Beyond this in the rode way as wee went A pillar stands where this Colossus leant Where he would love and sigh and for hearts case Oft times write verses some say such as these Here will I languish in this silly bower While my sweere heart triumphs in yonder Tower No other hindrance now but wee may passe Cleare to our Inne Oh there an hostesse was To whom the Castle and the dunne Cowe are Sights after dinner shee is morning waâ—…e Her whole behaviour borrowed was and mixt â—…se foole halfe puppet and her pace betwixt Measure and Jigge her courtsy was an honour Her gare as if her neighbours had out gone her Shee was barr'd up in Whale bones that did leese None of the whales length for they reach'd her knees Off with her head and then shee hath a middle As her Wast stands just like the new found fiddle The favourite Theorbo truth to tell yee Whose neck and throate are deeper then the belly Have you seene Monkeys chain'd about the loynes Or pottle pots with rings just so shee joynes Her selfe together a dressing shee doth love In a small print below and text above What though her name be King yet 't is no treason Nor breach of Statute to enquire the reason Of her branch'd russe a Cubit every poake I seeme to wende her but she strucke the stroake At our departure and our worships there Payd for our titles deare as anywhere Though Beadles and Professors both have done Yet every Inne claimes augmentation Please you walke out and see the Castle come The owner saith it is a Schollers home A place of strength and health in the same Fort You would conceive a Castle and a Court The Orchards Gardens Rivers and the Ay e May with the Trenches Rampires Wals compare It seemes no art no force can intercept it As if a Lover built a Souldier kept it Vp to the Tower though it bee steepe and high Wee doe not clime but walk and though the eye Seeme to be weary yet our feet are still In the same posture cousn'd up the Hill And thus the workemans art deceives our sence Making those rounds of pleasure and defence As wee descend the Lord of all this frame The Honourable Chancellour to us came Above the hill there blew a gentle breath But now wee feele a sweeter gale beneath The phrase and welcome of this Knight
did make The place more elegant each word he spake Was wine and musicke which he did expose To us if all our art could censure those With him there was a Prelate by his place Arch deacon to the Bishop by his face A greater man for that did counterfeit Lord Abbot of some Covent standing yet A corpulent relique marry and'tis sinne Some Puritane gets not that face call'd in Aâ—…ongst leane brethren it may scandall bring That looke for parity in ev'ry thing For us let him enjoy all that God sends Plenty of flesh of livings and of friends Imagine us here ambling downe the streete Circling in Flower and making both ends meere Where wee sare well foure dayes and did complaine Like harvest folkes of weather and of raine And on the feast of Bâ—…olmew we try What Revels that Saint keepes at Baâ—…bury Iâ—…h name of God Amen first to beginne The altar was converted to an Inne Wee lodged in the Chappell by the signe But in a banck'rupt Taveme by the wine Besides our horses usage makes us thinke 'T was still a Church for they in Coffins drinke As if'twere congruous that the ancient stlye Close by those Altars in whose faith they dye Now you believe the Church hath great varietie Of Monuments when Innes have such societie But nothing lesse ther 's no inscription there But the Church-wardens of the last yeare In stead of Saints in windowes and in wals Here buckets hang and there a Cobweb fals Would you not thinke they love antiquity Who rush their quire for perpetuity Whilst all the other pavements and the floore Are supplicant to the surveyors power Of the high wayes that he would gravell'd keepe Them or in winter sure they will bee deepe If not for Gods sake for Master Wheatley's sake Levell the Walkes suppose these pit-sals make Him spraine a Lecture or misplace a joynt In his long prayer or in his seventeenth point Thinke you the Dawes and Sâ—…ares can set him right Surely this sinne upon your heads will light And say Beloved what unchristian charme Is this you have not left a leg or arme Of an Apostle Thinke you it those were whole They would arise at last t' assume a soule If not 't is plaine all the Idolatry Lyes in your folly not the imag'ry 'T is well the pinnacles are falne in twaine For now the devill should he tempt againe Hath no advantage of a place so high Fooles he can dash you from your Gallery Where all your medley meetes and doe compare Not what you learne but who was longest there The Puritan the Anabaptist Brownist Like a grand Sallad Tinkers what a Towne is 't The Crosses also like old stumps of Trees Or stooles for horsemen that have seeble knees Carry no heads above Ground those which tell That Christ hath nâ—…re descended into Hell But to the Grave his picture buryed have In a farre deeper dungeon then a Grave That is descended to endure what paines The Devill can thinke or such disciples braines No more my griefe in such prophane abuses Good whips make better verses then the Muses Away and looke nor backe away while yet The Church is standing while the benefit Osseeing it remaines so long you shall Have that rackt downe and call'd Apocryphall And in some Barne heare cited many an Author Kaâ—… Stubs Anne Ascue or the Ladies daughter Which shall be urg'd for Fathers stop disdaine When Oxford once appeares Saran refraine Neighbours how hath our angerâ—…lius out-gone us Is not Saint Gileses this and that Saint Johns We are return'd but just just so much ore As Rauleigh from his voyage and no more R. C. WHen too much zeale doth fire devotion Love is not love but superstition Even so in civill duties when we come Too oft we are not kind but troublesome Yet as the first is not Idolatry So is the last but grieved industry And such was mine whose strife to honour you By overplus hath robd you of your due On Bishop Ravis WNen I passe Pauls and travaiâ—… in the walke Where all our Brittish sinners sweare and talke Old hairy Ruffins Bankrupts South sayers And youth whose cousenage is as old as theirs And there behold the body of my Lord Trod under foot by vice which he abhord It wounded me the Land lord of all times Should let long lives and leases to their crimes But to his saving honour scarce afford But so much Sunne as to the Prophets Gourd Yet since swift flights and envy hath best end Like breath of Angels with a blessing send And vanisheth withall while fouler deeds Expect a tedious harvest of bad seeds I blame not fame and nature if they gave Where they could adde no more the last a grave And justly doe thy grieved friends forbeare Bubble and Alablaster boyes to reare Ore thy religious dust but bid men know Thy life which such illusions cannot show For thou hast dyed amongst those happy ones Who trust not in their superstitions Their hired Epitaphs and perjur'd stone Which oft belies the soule when she is gone But durst commit thy body as it lies To tongues of living men not unborne eyes What profits thee a sheet of lead what good If on thy course a marble Quarry stood Let those that feare their rising purchase vaults And send their statues 〈…〉 faults As if like birds that picke at painted grapes Their Judge knew not their persons from their shapes Whilst thou assured by thy easie dust Shalt spring at first they would not yet they must Not need the Chancellor boast whose Pyramis Above the Host and altar reared is For though thy body fill a narrow roome Thou shalt not change deedâ—… with him for his Tombe R. Corbet On Doctor Corbets Father VIncent Corbet farther known By Pointers name then by his owne Here lies engaged till the day Of raysing bones and quickning clay No wonder reader that he hath Two Sir-names in one Epitaph For this one doth comprehend All that both families could lend And if to know more art then any Could multiply one into many Here a Colony lies then Both of qualities and men Yeares he liv'd were neere fouâ—…score But count his vertues he liv'd more And number him by doing good He liv'd the age before the flood Should we undertake his story Truth would seeme fain'd and fainednesse glory Besides the Tablet were too small Adding the pillars and the wall Yet of this volume much if found Writ in many a fertill ground Where the Printer thee affords Earth for Paper Trees for Words He was natures Factor here And leiger â—…gu for every shiere To supply the ingenious wants Of some Spring fruits and fortaine plants Simple he was and withall His pursâ—… not base nor prodigall Poorer in substance then in friends Future and publique were his endâ—… His conscience like his diet such As neither tooke nor left too much So the made lawes needlesse growne To him he needed but his owne Did he his neighbour bid like