Hollandi posthuma A funerall elegie of King Iames: With a congratulatory salve to King Charles. An elegie of the magnanimous Henry Earle of Oxford. A description of the late great, fearefull and prodigious plague: and divers other patheticall poemes, elegies, and other lines, on divers subiectes. The post-humes of Abraham Holland, sometimes of Trinity-Colledge in Cambridge. The authors epitaph, made by himselfe. Holland, Abraham, d. 1626. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A03455 of text S114142 in the English Short Title Catalog (STC 13579). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 164 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 92 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A03455 STC 13579 ESTC S114142 99849370 99849370 14511 2240858494

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 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. A03455) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 14511) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1177:02) Hollandi posthuma A funerall elegie of King Iames: With a congratulatory salve to King Charles. An elegie of the magnanimous Henry Earle of Oxford. A description of the late great, fearefull and prodigious plague: and divers other patheticall poemes, elegies, and other lines, on divers subiectes. The post-humes of Abraham Holland, sometimes of Trinity-Colledge in Cambridge. The authors epitaph, made by himselfe. Holland, Abraham, d. 1626. [128] p. [Printed by B. Alsop and T. Fawcet] Impensis, Henrici Holland, Cantabrigiæ [i.e. London] : 1626. A collection, mostly in verse, by Abraham Holland. Privately printed in a limited impression at Holland's expense--National Union Catalog. The place of publication is false; actual place of publication and printer's names from STC. Includes the following (each with a 1626 separate dated title page): An elegie: or, some post-hume teares, vpon the the royall hearse of our late sovereigne Iames; An elegie vpon the death of the right noble and magnanimous Heroë, Henry Earle of Oxford, Vnto these post-humes is added: Naumachia. Or, a poeticall description of the cruell and bloudie sea-fight or battaile of Lepanto. Also includes a poem on the plague (with caption title: "The description of the late great memorable and prodigious plague. 1625") that was reprinted in STC 6175. Signatures: [par.]² (a)⁴ B-M⁴ ² A² ² B-D⁴. Imperfect; the British Library copy lacks M3 (M3 and other leaves supplied at end from the University of Illinois (Urbana-Champaign Campus). Library copy and Folger Shakespeare Library copy). Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng James -- I, -- King of England, 1566-1625 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Charles -- I, -- King of England, 1600-1649 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Oxford, Henry de Vere, -- Earl of, 1593-1625 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Lepanto, Battle of, 1517 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Plague -- England -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. eebo Hollandi post-huma. A funerall elegie of King Iames: With a congratulatory salve to King Charles. An elegie of the magnanimous Henry Earle of Oxford. Holland, Abraham, 1626 184 26927 28 0 0 0 0 0 10.4 C The rate of 10.4 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the C category of texts with between 10 and 35 defects per 10,000 words. 2006-03 Assigned for keying and markup 2006-09 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2009-03 Sampled and proofread 2009-03 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-09 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

HOLLANDI Post-huma .

A FVNERALL ELEGIE OF KING IAMES : WITH A CONGRATVLATORY Salve TO KING CHARLES .

An Elegie of the Magnanimous HENRY Earle of Oxford .

A Description of the late great , fearefull and and Prodigious Plague : and divers other patheticall Poemes , Elegies , and other Lines , on divers subiects .

The Post-humes of ABRAHAM HOLLAND , sometimes of Trinity-Colledge in CAMBRIDGE .

The Authors EPITAPH , made by himselfe .

CANTABRIGIAE , Impensis , HENRICI HOLLAND . 1626.

The Names or Titles of the ensuing ELEGIES , &c. AN Elegie or some Post-hume teares for King IAMES : and A Congratulatorie Salve to King CHARLES . An Elegie on the Death of the Magnanimous HENRY Earle of Oxford , &c. A Poeme written in the late Plague-time , to divers the Authors endeered worthy Friends , then in the Countrey . A Description of the late great and prodigious Plague . A Satyricall Poeme against one that did falsly accuse the Author to the late Lord Keeper , of a Libell against IOHN OWENS Monument in Pauls . A Poeme of his owne deere Father being Sicke . A Poeme to his Friends in his owne sicknesse , with a resolution against Death . A Letter , savouring of Mortification , written in the time of the late Visitation of the Plague , to his deere Brother H.H. A Confession of his sinnes to God , with a testimony of his Faith . A metricall Version of part of the 73. Pslame . T. C. the Authors endeered friend , his poeticall Version of the 91. Psalme . A Meditation on the 6. Psalme , verse 4. and 5. With some other Meditations in his Sicknesse , and a Prayer . His Bodies Vale to his best Part. His Epitaph made by himselfe .
TO THE RIGHT HONOVRABLE AND HIGH-BORNE HEROE , GEORGE , LORD GORDON , EARLE OF ENGIH : AND CAPTAINE OF THE GVARDDV-CORPS ( commonly called IEAN DV-GVARD ) to his Majestie of FRANCE : Sonne and Heire apparant , to the most Noble and Valerous the Marquisse of HVNTLEY . Right Honourable :

MY LORD : The Author of these Poemes and other Lines , my deere Brother , being lately Deceased , and I loth that his Elaborate workes should die , & be buried in Oblivion , thought good rather to commit them to the Presse , And doe make bold to make choise of your Noble Selfe , desiring you to deigne the Patronage of them : And I am induced so to doe in two respects ; First , because your Honour is the Prime Mecaenas of the Muses , of your Noble Ranke , that I know , of Great Britaine : Secondly , for that I am not ignorant of you Honours fauourable and benigne acceptance of some other the Authors Poemes , from his owne hands . Why shall I then doubt of your Acceptance of these ? The Orphanes of him , who to say no more , whiles hee had breath , as he was much obliged , so did highly prize and honour your Lordship .

Vouchsafe therefore , most Noble Lord , not onely the Patronage hereof against the malevolent detractors and vulgar mouthes ( if any such there be ) but the pardoning of my audacitie herein , beeing altogether unknowne unto you .

Now , Noble SIR , as the World knowes you were one of King IAMES his Northerne WORTHIES ; so , who will denie but our gracious King CHARLES accompts you no lesse ? And that your Honour , Name and Fame , are not confined within the Empire of Great Britaine , appeares by that thrice honorable Office conferred on you by the most Christian French King : I pray GOD giue you increase of Honour on Earth , and hereafter immortall Honor in Heaven . And so , I humbly take my leaue of your Noble Lordship .

Your Honours most obsequious to be Commanded : H. H.
TO The ingenious and ingenuous Reader , especially such as were the deceased Authors Friends .

GENTLEMEN , I haue enterprised to commit these ensuing Lines , my deceased Brothers Orphanes , vnto the Presse , at mine owne proper Charges , not to make them common ; for I hold them better worth than to bee exposed to the vulgar View of euery Ignoramus or Non-intelligit : The world already beeing full fraught and farced with stuffe fit for their vnderstanding . What these are , I need not tell you that knew the Author ; And for your sakes principally haue I made this Impression , of no more Copies than I thinke to distribute vnto yee , his ( and some of mine owne ) endeered & worthy Friends . I hope you will vouchsafe them benigne Acceptance , and me condigne thankes : by which , I shall bee encouraged to publish other his larger Labours which I haue lying by mee . And so I wish you all an heartie Vale , and of you take my leaue .

Yours to Command . H. H.
MICHAEL DRAYTON Esquire , and Poet-Laureat , in Commendation of the AVTHOR and his first published Poeme , NAVMACHIA . BY this one Lim , my HOLLAND , wee may see What thou in time at thy full growth mayst bee , Which Wit by her owne Symetrie can take , And thy proportion perfectly can make At thy Ascendant : that when thou shalt show Thy selfe ; who reades thee perfectly shall know Those of the Muses by this little light Saw before other where to take thy height . Proceed , let not Apollo's stocke decay , POETS and KINGS are not borne euery day .
E C. Master of Arts , vpon the same . SEnd forth , young-man , from Muses wombe , Thy other Royall Births at home , But slowly , slowly send them forth , Lest for their number and their worth The enuious hand of Fates take hold , And crop thee ; for they 'le thinke th' art Old .
I. W. I C. Vpon the same . THat this small Piece the World should hazard first , Of other better Workes thy Muse hath nurst To wonder I was forc't , unless 't bee done As a small Starre doth usher forth the Sun .
E.P. Theologus , amico suo ARAHAMO HOLLANDO , D. PHILEMONIS F. in NAVMACHIAM suam . NAumachiam lustrando tuam , mihi flumine visus , Iugenij placido desperijsse tui : Arma virum , tabulas Guleas , & Scuta per ●●das Aspicio , & mens est Carmine mersa simul . Emergo ! & tabulas votiuas dedico Musae , Docte HOLLANDE tua , quae bene facta canit . FINIS .

AN ELEGIE : OR , SOME POSTHVME TEARES , VPON THE ROYALL HEARSE OF OVR LATE SOVEREIGNE IAMES , KING OF GREAT BRITAINE , France , and Jreland ; Defender of the Faith , &c.

Who Died at his Manour of THEOBALDS , the XXVII . of March , 1625.

By ABRAHAM HOLLAND .

Printed for HEN. HOLLAND . M.DC.XXVI .

TO THE RIGHT HIGH & MIGHTIE CHARLES , OF GREAT BRITAINE , France , and Jreland ; the first King ( of that Name ) and second Monarch : Defender of the FAITH , &c. Sole Inheritor of his Royall Fathers KINGDOMES and VERTVES . AND To King IAMES his Jmmortall Memorie .

This Elegie is Consecrated by his Sacred Majesties humblest and meanest Subject .

AN ELEGJE : OR , Some Posthume teares , vpon the Royall Hearse of our late Soueraigne King IAMES . NOw that the Land hath nigh forgot to weepe , And IAMES the Good more peaceably doth sleepe In his vnblamed Vrne , and th' Vniversities , Vpon his Hearse from their lamenting eyes Haue throwne their Pearles , & through the widdow'd Towne The curious wits haue jewelled his Crowne , Pardon if now poore I doe spend a teare , Though farre vnequall to my care , to beare My sorrow company , if I commence A Nania now , and end it two yeares hence , I 'le chide my griefe , which could so soone expresse It selfe by speech , when speech makes sorrow lesse . Hee 's dead ; if some preciser man should aske Who 't is I meane , tell him that is a taske A mortall cannot answer ; let him flie To be resolu'd first to Phylosophy , And there make search , what skilfull nature can Invent that 's curious to produce a man Next , and most like a Deitie : and hence Rise to a Metaphysick excellence , And transcend Nature , let him there suppose The soul 's cleare faculties , as they rose Perfect from the Creatour , and withall Know such an one is dead , who did recall All decay'd vertues : Who had he liu'd that day When wise PROMETHEUS man-kinde form'd of clay , Hee might haue bin the Stampe pure and refin'd , T' haue molded off all future humane Kinde : But how these sparkes which nature first did frame Were ripened by Time , and made a flame What graces did accrew vnto the minde Of Him that 's dead , when it was disciplinde And form'd by Arts additions , would require Praemeditations long and workes intire , As HOMER happly being desir'd to cleere What th' Ithacan or fierce ACHILLES were , Could not their well-knowne Excellence descrie Vnder an Iliad and an Odyssie : Nor VIRGILL tell what his AENEAS was , Vntill his answer did make vp the Masse Of full twelue Bookes : had now some Poet more And purer fancies than those Swans before Euer injoy'd , he could but meanely sing , And weakely tell what was our now-dead King . Hee was a Man , a King , a God , aboue The reach of enuie fear'd alone for loue , And yet hee 's dead , hee that few dayes agoe Had sayd so much , had bin Great Britaines foe , Alas 't is past an Omen now , and Fate Hath giuen vs a bad licence to relate The hated truth , nor treason is 't to say His Funerall was kept on such a day ; Wee need no Calculations now , or Art of Starres to gather , when his mortall part Will pay the due to nature , he hath paid , And She hath him a full acquittance made Of all his debt : and now much like a strong And nimble-winged Eagle , which hath long Bin pent in some close Cage , his vn-hous'd sprite On able Plumes hath tan'e a joyfull flight Vp to the Sunne , while we poore men below Gaze at the sight , and after him can throw Onely our vowes : O whither Thou by this White Soule , art crowned in a Throne of blisse That standeth on Eternitie , and thence With a new Power , as an intelligence Doest rule some Orbe : or whether thou and thine , Thy wisdome and thy Clemencie doe shine As a new Constellation , in some Sphere , Where nor the Powre of winds and stormes appeare , Or any Gust : that heareth not the clash Of Thunder , sees no lightnings sulph'ry flash . But there as in a pleasing dreame doest lie Bathed in blisse and fix'd Tranquillitie , Hauing attained vnto that which Thou So sought'st on Earth , but full possess'd of now Eternall Peace , while neighbouring Starres admire To see so bright a guest increase their quire . Or whether thou with Angells doest consent To hold an euerlasting Parliament , In robes as white as those wherein the Quire Of surpluss'd Saints sing Carolls and admire Their Makers glorie ermin'd all with lights , And starres that glitter in serenest nights , The purple , not such as the Tyrian shell Doth yeeld , or th' high-pric'd Indian Cuchenel , But such as decks the proud Aurora , when Shee showes her blushing face to bed rid men , Or such as is for Coverlets dispread , To wearie Phoebus on his Westerne bed . Where er'e thou art , refined Soule , if so The shades of men free'd from their prison , Know And see what 's done on Earth , ô vnderstand And view the sorrow of thy widow'd Land ; Pardon our Avarice if wee would faine Enjoy our CHARLES ? yet haue our IAMES againe , England with one consent would gladly view A Heptarchy againe of such as You Without diuision : Much I cannot blame Those Idle Wizards , who did blindely ayme At Truth they knew not , when it is agreed , That now Thou art an an Emperour indeed , And farre aboue a King ; Thy Laureat soule Being rid in triumph to her Capitoll , Nor art thou fall'n , but as in purest nights , In a full quire of Starres wee see some lights Dissemble ruine , which when man kinde saw At first , it thought that Fate had broke the law Of Nature , and let loose those rolling eyes , Which be the Garrison and centuries To the brasse Wall of heaven and doe keepe Those golden Vaults in a still-waking sleepe . Thy Sonne is liuing , who is so mis-led While hee doth liue to say that Thou art dead ? Shall wee here blame great Fate or loue it , which Hath vs at once made both extreamely rich And most deplored poore ? which hath the store Of hidden India giuen vs , and more Than er'e the pale and greedy Spaniard knew In wretched Mexico , or rich Peru , ( Where ambush'd rockes of Gold and siluer found Looke pale and blush to leaue the guilty ground ) But hath bereau'd vs of a Mint , a Coine That went for currant , vnto which did Ioyne Refined Excellence : or , shall we say By this our losse , that Fate did but display Her indiscretion , which doth poize the States Of men alike , and mighty Potentates ? The will of Destinie , which hath snatch'd away The Westerne Sunne , and yet remaines a Day As bright as if it still did here abide , Hath stopt the Current , yet the streame doth ride In Christall beautie ; hath impli'de a Change Without an alteration , yea , more strange Produc'd a joyfull sadnesse : that the while Wee are a weeping , we doe oft beguile The victorie of sorrow with a gleame Of present Ioy , like as a sodaine beame Strikes from a Tempest ; you can passe no way , But by th' occurrent , one may justly say There 's a strange Conflict , a strange Monster bred , Of Ioy and Sorrow streaming from one head The King : See , here comes on a drouping man With anguish printed in his brow , pale , wan , And onely mouing ; aske him what 's the cause , And you shall heare him after a sad pause So well as griefe will giue him leaue , to say The best of Kings , the best of men , this day Hath left vs wretched Mortalls to deplore That blisse , that peace , that wisdome , which before We knew not how to value , till the want Tells vs how negligent and Ignorant Wee were of so great happinesse : Thus hee Will make his sorry answer , or may bee Bee altogether silent to descrie Th' importance of the new calamitie . For greatest miseries which should declare Excesse of sorrow , dumbe and silent are . But doe I not through all the people heare Good Omens , and glad acclamations teare Th' astonish'd aire , so lowd and shrill , that Spaine And Germanie doe stand amaz'd againe : An art of memorie would little aide To recall sorrow , when that word is say'd King CHARLES : As when in some vncertain weather Two diverse windes doe joyne their blasts together The wauering Forrests , and the Neuter Corne You then may see , now this , now that way borne , Still most inclining to the conquering blast That did preuaile , and breathe vpon them last . I doe confesse , the gaine of such a King Wee now enjoy , may well some solace bring For our dead IAMES : Yet as wee often see In a religious Groue some aged Tree , As a long-liued Oke , or bald-head Elme , Which not so many Stormes could ouer-whelme , So many Keene and surly Winters rage , But there it stands respected for the age , Although the armes and seared bough's doe fade , And that it with the trunke doth make a shade Rather than leaues : yet vnderneath the Faunes And Syluan Gods from farre-remooued Launes Shelter themselues ; and when it fall's the sweet And gentle Nymphs , and horn-hoof'd Satyres meet To waile their loued Shed , which oft did tame The rage of Iuly , and the Dog-starres flame . Could we suppose another Sun would rise , And make his Zodiack from the Southerne skies And set i' th' North , leauing the East as chill As th' Orcades , yet we should thinke on still Our ancient freind the former Sun , whose power So many a Spring , so many a joyfull houre Produc'd before : ô ! it is hard to say , When Customarie vertue 's tan'e away How great the griefe is , though perhaps the blisse That doth ensue to th' other equall is . There is an old wiues Prouerbe that the Spring May make an Ague Physicke for a King , And God this Medicine did to him apply , To cure him of diseas'd mortalitie , And settle him Eternall : where , nor age Doth follow Time , as in this Pilgrimage Of our sad life , nor sicknesse , paine , or feare , Or Decrement of beautie doth appeare , But health eternall , and felicities Without impaire , and Life that neuer dies . What man hereafter that partaketh sense , But much more , reason , will wish residence In this darke vale of life , where euery houre Is spent or lost , or subject to the power Of dominiering Sinne , especially When thus good Kings , our Gods Tutelar die ▪ Alas , while wee in this life trauaile fare , Wee are but wretches hovering in the aire With waxen Plumes , where feare still leads the trace , And too much heaven brings vs to earth apace , To bring vs vnto heauen : we Comers are Whose sodaine lustre and prodigious haire Affrights the world with wonderment , if we Placed too high , or too inferiour bee . Ah! who would trust on the deceiuing state O● slipperie Crownes , held at as deere a rate As often purchas'd , and againe resign'd , All-wayes with cares and anguish of the minde . This great , good , wise , and learned Monarch , whom The world affirm'd the Light of Christendome : The Northerne Starre and Wonder of his time , Who was the moment of this Westerne clime , And held it in just poize : who did devise , But now the Embryo's of Policies Which Fate is still a teeming : this good King Alas , is come vnto his Evening ; And after soules and bodyes last divorce , Lies in the Graue a cold vnlived Corse . Good Soule sleepe sweet , and quiet , and doe Thou That doest reviue , our King , smoothe vp that brow That giues thy people life , doe Thou appease Thy griefe , and the contagion will cease Of too much care : But if Thou still doest keepe Sorrow I 'le sweare hee 's dead that does not weepe . Almightie God assist Thee , and the Windes . Be Champions for CHARLES , what er'e He mindes .

AN ELEGIE VPON THE DEATH OF THE RIGHT NOBLE and Magnanimous Heroë , HENRY Earle of Oxford , Viscount Bulbec , Lord Samford , and Lord great Chamberlaine of England .

WHO SICKENED IN SERVICE OF HIS KING and Countrie , in defence of the States . And died at the Hagh in Holland . Aprill 1625.

By ABRAHAM HOLLAND .

Printed 1626.

TO THE RIGHT HONOVRABLE AND NOBLE LADY , DIANA , Countesse of OXFORD , Dowager of the Deceased HENRY Earle of OXFORD , Viscount BVLBEC , Lord SAMFORD , and Lord great Chamberlaine of ENGLAND . AND , TO THE RIGHT HONOVRABLE AND APPROVED Souldier , ROBERT VERE , the succeeding Earle of OXFORD , Heire apparant to the same Noble Titles and Honours .

To both their Honours , This Elegie is Consecrated .

By H. H.
An Elegie upon the Death of the right Noble and Magnanimous HENRIE Earle of Oxford , Viscount Bulbec , &c. WHat Starre was wanting in the Skie ? what place To be supplied anew ? what empty space That requir'd OXFORD ? was some Light growne dim , Some Starre Decrepit that suborned Him To darke the Earth by his Departure ? Sure The Thracian God to make his Orbe more pure Hath borrow'd him ; where in his fiery Carre He shines a better MARS , a brighter Starre ? Or like a new Orion doth he stand In Christall Maile , and a bright blade in 's hand An armed Constellation , while the Quire Of Pyrrhick dancers , with reflecting fire Glitter on him ? or like a Comets rage Strikes he amazement on the trembling age ? Alas ! these glorious fancies but expresse His worth and our love to him , not make lesse The rape of Fate , while we poore Mortalls farre More want such men than heaven could want a Star . Let Griefe then speake , and for this wofull time Let me nor studie Number , Verse , or rime , But write in fragments , so 't shall be my due Though not a Poet good , a Mourner true . Though I should say no more but , OXFORD's dead , That would be made an Elegie , to spread It selfe as farre as sorrow , the Contents Enlarg'd to Volumes , by the teares , laments , And griefe in-generall , when the world affords So vast a comment unto so few words . Yee Powers above that looke on men with eyes Iust and impartiall , if in Fate there lies Still more revenge , ô let us wretches know Our lot before , that we may weepe below A timely expiation , and prevent The torrent of thy wrath which now is bent To make a Deluge or'e us , who have found , Though after all Great IAMES was laid in ground , A Plague , and OXFORDS Death : 't is hard to say Which of the two doth more our losse display The ruines both being Generall : and can Heaven be so angrie with poore feeble man To persecute him further ? No , the rage Of Pestilence which spreadeth through the age Can scarce surpasse his losse : cast feare away Fate cannot teeme more mischiefe ; and must stay Now at the height of Vengeance : OXFORDS death Hath ingag'd heaven to spare the rest beneath . Who , what he living was those men can tell Who past the North and Southerne Poles doe dwell I need not write it : that were but to show What we now want , and what we once did owe To such a man , whose like ensuing dayes Shall scarce produce : Antiquitie may praise Their HECTORS , and ACHILLES , with a dim And fain'd applause , while we doe but right him In their Encomiums . Who like a New-borne Starre Bred us amazement onely , and from farre Made us admire what he in time would bee , And so shut up his Early light , while wee Wonder that Fate could be so prodigall So soone to show , so quickly to let fall So great a glorie ; which we well may say Had but an houre , a Minute , a short day That did deserve an age : yea , some will say As the best things , he made the shorter stay T' expresse an Excellence : Yet alas , herein We doe but flatter sorrow and our sin Which tooke him hence ; for had he stay'd till then When there should be no memorie left of men H 'had bin a Choice of heaven , and surpass't The Annalls and the Chronicles , which vast Vncertaine times have made : doe not surmize That I herein am set t'Hyperbolize , A strict Historian of the time that say's Lesse , shall be held Detractour of his Praise . Yea , future judgements when they shall compare Him with the rest shall call those writers spare , Who made him not a Patterne , as the blinde Old HOMER , did ACHILLES , of his Kinde . Alas 't was nothing in the ancient time For Noble men to raise their names , and clime By hauty acts unto the top of Fame , When as obeysance to their Prince did claime , And their owne Interests , that they should show Not more what they adventur'd , than did owe : When each day almost new invasions , when Civill disturbance did compell the men To a forc'd valour : In those times to have A TALBOT , ESSEX , or a DRAKE did save The Countrie but from damage : but that now When the now-Sainted IAMES had made a VOW To blesse himselfe , and us by making Peace : That not all Spirit , and all MARS should cease But such a flame from those still ashes rise , Did saue the Land from guilt of Cowardize . Since OXFORD was a Youth , BELLONA ne're Breath'd her allarmes in this our Hemisphere , But he pursu'd them , with a Noble fire To fame his Countrie , and his owne desire Grounded on that : Great Venice and the Fates Though lucklesse of Bohemia , with the States Now fatall to him , and th' attempted Seas Shall be his true , though Posthumes witnesses . He sought no new-made Honours in the Tide Of favour , but was borne the same he di'de . Nor came he to the Elysium with shame That the old VERES did blush to heare his Name Brighter than theirs : where his deserts to grace His Grand-fathers rose up and gave him place , And set him with the Heroës , where the Quire Of ayrie Worthies rise up , and admire The stately Shade : those Brittish Ghosts which long Agoe were number'd in th' Elysian throng Ioy to behold him ; SYDNEY threw his Bayes On OXFORDS head , and daign'd to sing his praise ; While Fame with silver Trumpet did keepe time With his high Voice , and answered his rime . The soft inticements of the Court , the smiles Of Glorious Princes the bewitching wiles Of softer Ladies , and the Golden State That in such places doth on Greatnesse waite And all the shadie happinesse which seemes To attend Kings and follow Diadems Were Boy-games to his minde : to see a Maske And sit it out , he held a greater taske Than to endure a Siege : to wake all Night In his cold armour , still expecting fight And the drad On-set , the sad face of feare , And the pale silence of an Army , were His best Delights ; among the common rout Of his rough Souldiers to sit hardnesse out Were his most pleasing Delicates : to him A Batter'd Helmet was a Diadem : And wounds , his Brauerie : Knowing that Fame And faire Eternitie could neuer claime Their Meeds without such Hazards : but alas That wee must say , such a Man OXFORD was , A Hatefull Syllable which doth implie Valour can be extinct and Vertue die . O wer 't not Profanation , I now Could turne a stiffe Pythagorist and allow A reall Metempsychosis , if so The Soule of OXFORD might divided flow On much Nobilitie : and yet my sect Should honour finde from hence , they no Defect . This was the yeare of Iubile in Rome No meruaile , 't was of griefe with us at home , England hath bin Romes Sacrifice , the whiles Our Teares and Funerals haue bred their Smiles A company of sacred Soules before Him left Mortalitie , as if the skore Of Fate were quickly to be payd : but when He left us wretches to continue men , While hee himselfe did to a Crowne attaine The whole Quire seem'd in him to die againe : As if h' had bin th' Epitome , and Briefe Of all their Vertues , and of all our griefe : But Fate did act this last and greatest theft To see if wee had any Sorrow left , As if those loued Soules which went before Had spent our teares , and left our Eyes no more , Alas , now pities us and bids us sleepe Seeing when Eyes are done our hearts can weepe .
Two Epitaphs vpon the same Noble Earle .
EPITAPH . 1. PAssenger that needs wilt know Who lyeth here First let mee craue , That thou , thy Pietie to show Let fall a teare Vpon the Graue : 'T is Oxford : whom when thou shalt finde Entoomb'd below Who late did liue , Thou thy selfe shalt call vnkinde , To haue bin so Jnquisitiue .
EPITAPH . 2. TO say that OXFORD here or there Doth lye , confines a place To his vnbounded Fame , That Body which , you balme and seare That Image you doe grace , Js but his Shade , his Name . What place of Heauen hath his Soule And his diviner parts , To mortals is vnknowne ; This wee may say without controll , Jn all true English hearts His Toombe is made , though they bee made of Stone .
FINIS .
A L'envoy to my endeared Friends Mr. R.T. Mr. W.H. Mr. T.C. and others being in the Countrey . Seruing for an Introduction to the Description of the Plague . DOe you not wonder that in this sad time I still haue leysure to compose a rime ? When as a Christian care forbids me now The helpe of Poetrie , that my hot brow Should sweate with actiue Wine , or that my heart Should be so free from passion to vse Art Vnto my wilde expressions : The mirth That entertaines a Muse , and giues a Birth To happy lines , is farre more fit for you Who in your Countries happinesse doe view Our slaughters from a farre , as men in sight That stand remote spectators of a Fight . Yet I would haue both you and all suppose Sorrow can speake as well in verse as prose In this great Yeare of Elegies : indeed Not with that life , that flame , and actiue speed . As when Securitie did bid me play With the smooth tresses of Asteria And wander in her eyes : alas that theame Is quell'd in griefe and drowned in the Streame Of the times sorrow : those Heroïck layes That were begun haue throwne away their bayes And cloth'd themselues in Cypresse ; and my brow Expects a Night-cap , more than Lawrell now . Sirs you perhaps are chasing o're the Fields The Hare , the Deere , or what the season yeelds Doe Imp your Falcons wings , making it flie A suttle ambusher about the Skie . We are the Prey of Death and each night stay The call of Fate , untill the Morning say We may draw forth a Noone ; and so at Night Lie downe againe not sure of other light Till the great Resurrection : for may bee Death hath his Writ this Night to serue on mee . Doe you inquire whether wee be affraid Of Death or no which so soone doth inuade So surely Kill , I answer , no : that man That liueth now and view's the storme , and can Still be affraid of Death , I must surmize A Renegade , or full of Cowardize : No Penitent can feare , and hee that still Retaines a heart unbroken acts more ill Than all his life before : that soule is Steele Which doth not bleed , that hell , which doth not feele The present blow : It is with us who here Hourely view death , as when exempt of feare At an Ostend or such a Siege to die The Souldiers thought it a Necessitie And so did slight it , when each houre were showne So many others Death's t' assure their owne . Endeared Friends , I am well and better much And in more sweet securitie than such Who thinke of a long life , by these death 's here Being freed from what is worse than death , the Feare . Seldome is Christian Valour better gain'd . Than when 't is by such miserie obtain'd . I doubt not but that Fame which still doth use To spred abroad more large than certaine newes Hath blaz'd our State , and haply doth assure As you suppose farre more then we endure , Thus farre let me your doubts herein suffice Rumour it selfe can scarce Hyperbolize Our Reall woe : Feare it selfe cannot vow There is more Mischiefe than wee suffer now : If you shall heare of Streets wherein the Grasse Doth grow for want of men that use to passe Or Smithfield turn'd a medow or a plaine Wherein the Horses , Kine , and Sheepe againe May feed rather than sell : or of poore men That in their Graues together lie by ten By twenties or by more : or sodaine Fates Of people dying in the streets and gates , Doe not suppose it false , we wretches trie What other Ages shall hold Poetrie , A March in midst of August , and the Star That raigneth now farre from Canicular In all but the effects ; not cloth'd in bright And scorching Sun-shine but in midst of Night And Winter stormes , as if the Plague did flie Wrap't in those clouds to fright the troubled Skie And blast mortalitie : the ayre the while Scarce in a Moneth strikes forth one pleasing smile Muffled in damps , so close that from beneath Wee deeme it hard by any way but Death To see bright Heauen againe : The Rurall swaines Begin to doubt the Vsurie of their paines And Prophesie a Famine : and the Earth Choked with Carkasses threatens a Dearth As a Reuenge : The Skies the while doe showre Downe poysonous tempest to augment the power Of her pretended Malice : while the breath Of blacke contagious windes doe transport Death Through the enuenom'd ayre : Earth , Aire , and Skie Conspiring to our great Calamitie . In what a case poore London stands , to show Would aske a Pen and Muse that onely know How to write griefe : alas it is become A Theatre of Tragedies , where some Di'de i' th' first acts , and many slaughters past God knowes what murder shall be in the last ▪ I liue not in it , but in Chelsey aire Where Death but in his Out-rodes doth repaire , And thence doe onely heare the murmuring Bels Disclose the slaughter by the frequent Knels . Yet as a tender Mother though shee haue A Child interr'd , and sleeping in the graue Yet will she oft goe see the tombe , and dew His dust with pious teares , and oft renew His Posthume exequies : so sometime I Goe to behold the Citie , and espie As I doe walke along the widdow'd streets Nothing but sorrow in each face that meets In the Large ruine nothing but a griefe That speakes it selfe in silence , true and briefe . Ah deere Sirs , it is changed from the Place Yee knew it once , when as the beautious face Of Gallantrie inrich'd the Streets , and Eyes Of frequent beautie made it a Paradise And the Delight of Nations , whose concourse Thither , and the Refluxe as from the Source Of humane Kinde did make it seeme to bee The Center of the World , the Worlds Epitome . Death now alas hath not begun , but led His Triumph through the Towne , and largely spred His gloomy wings in circuit o're the Walls Attended by ten thousand Funerals As if those Pageants raised to renowne Our deere Queenes Well-come , and great Charles his Crowne Had bin of purpose made a Wofull throne For Death and Fate to sit spectatours on When I see these , thinke you I can forbeare But praise that God , who let 's me still be here And makes me not a Spectacle , as they That now are mine , and liu'd but yesterday ? Deare Friends , it is not London , but the shade And Carkasse of that place in ashes layd . Where you shall see in stead of sport and play A false yet as it seemes a Holiday , The Doores shut up , and all the Streets about But here and there a Passenger walke out So solemne silence , that a man would say , 'T were a light Night , or Seruice-time all Day : The Bells as frequent as when oft they sound When a yong Prince is borne , or new King crown'd , Which heard , a Stranger might be brought to sweare The Fift of August or Nouember there Were Solemnized now : which to assure The Bon-fires almost euery night procure A Shade of Ioy ; which if you right will Know As funerall Piles not solemne Bonfires glow The Bells in their sad language almost tell They ring no Holiday , but speake a Knell ; The Doores so shut that one in them might doubt Whether it were to keepe Death in or out . What Muse shall I inuoke t' indite a rime That may expresse our miserable time ? Where the pale Visages of men expresse Farre aboue Poetrie the Heauinesse Of Gods sharp Scourge , where the Red wand affrights The Starring Passenger and troubled Nights Are spent in Burials , when what e're we see Is but an Argument of Miserie ; The Wormwood-Nosegayes , & the trembling Pace Of them that passe , though they haue Herbe of Grace And curious Boxes to repell the ayre Which might assault them , seeming to out-dare The will of Destinie : Nor can I blame Our weake Mortalitie , which thinkes no shame To show a frailtie , deeming perhaps that Fate Can yeeld to Soueraigne Bezoar , Mithridate Or such Death-killers , let us thinke so still So wee root out that weed of Sin and ill Which taints our soules , so though for many yeares It haue preuail'd , wee 'l drowne it in our teares And Kill this Giant Plague , which through the towne As an unloosed Lyon , beareth downe What e're it meets , making no doubt to strike The cloudie Cedar and low Shrub alike : So quicke and fast that it makes men to say 'T will not be long untill the Iudgement Day Absolue the Massacre , Death so doth shrine To bring the Vniuerse to light againe . So few are borne to life so many Die Lucina doth not Tith Mortalitie , As if Death would not leaue untill for all Doomesday doe make one fire one funerall . When now the Weeke-bills almost reach unto The summe which that of th' yeare had wont to doe . If from the Towne a Stranger should but spie How the affrighted People hast to flie In trembling heapes hee could not but suppose The ransack'd Citie taken by the Foes , And now possess'd , and the remaining rout On a strict composition flying out . Enter the Citie you shall meet with there A fearefull Valour , an audacious Feare , Where men doe think 't so difficult to scape That they expose themselues unto the rape While they yet tremble , as if thence to flie Were to giue wings to Death , and hast to die . A Noone in Fleetstreet now can hardly show That Presse which Midnight could not long agoe ; No Proclamation needs the Gentrie hast Vnto their Homes , they doe it now too fast While the poore Sterued rout are taken hence Alike by Famine and by Pestilence . Walke through the wofull Streets ( whoeuer dare Still venter on the sad infected ayre ) So many Marked houses you shall meet As if the Citie were one Red-Crosse street . The Plague hath spred it selfe so vast and far They need not set Markes in Particular One very Doore , but to expresse the Losse Not guild but red the Publike Citie crosse : And briefe for all to show the wrath of Fate Set LORD HAVE MERCY ON 's , on euery Gate . Alas the little house hath lost the Name While wretched London may the Title claime Of the great Pest-house : where are buried more Than wee had thought it had contain'd before : That in our Iudgements it may well appeare Turn'd from a Citie to a Sepulcher .
The Description of the late great memorable and prodigious Plague . 1625. GOod God! what poison lurkd in that first fruict Whose surfet left us wretches prostitute To such a world of sorrow ? Not confin'd Onely to teare and cruciate the minde With sad remembrance of the blisse , wherein We might haue liu'd , but see the cruell Sin Spares not our soules weake houses , but doth spred From viler parts unto the nobler head A thousand Maladies , which now alas Through each small In-let of the Bodie , passe Remorslesse Enemies , and batter downe , The clayie bulwarkes of our Mud-wall'd towne . Our throat is like that vast breach , which doth bring In like the Troian Horse dire surfetting ; When in the Stomach like the Market-place The foes let loose dare spred themselues , and trace Through all the Citie , some are ready first To breake the Sluces , which doe raging burst And drowne low buildings , some with flaming brands Fire holy Temples , some with Swords in hands Sharpe-pointed-Iavelins , Malls , and poisonous darts Make Massacres through all the trembling parts Of the distressed Fabricke ; no controll Can barre'em but they will assault the Soule It selfe almost , while each small-breathing Pore Betrayes unto the foe a Posterne Dore To enter in at , euery crawling veyne Affords him harbour , and doth Entertaine The bloudie Enemie , each Muscle , Nerue , And Filme makes him a Fortresse to preserue His longer Durance , till the guest at last With ruine payes his Host for all that 's past . How many such foes , thinke you ? Secret lye When hundreds of them ambush in one Eye ? Which is the Lanthorne , and the Watch , and Light Keepes Centurie for all the Bodies Night . As soone may I exactly number all The fainting leaues that in an Autumne fall , The Creatures of the Summer , or the Store Of wilder infects , which old Nilus shore Each yeare produceth , as with Iudgement show How many fierce and bold diseases flow Vpon this wretched Carkasse , when each yeare New troupes of raging Feuers domineere That know no name , Each boy can nigh expresse Diseases now to Pose Hippocrates . Happy that age of gold , not onely 'cause It had no vice , and so no need of Lawes , When Nature was their Solon , and the want Of Knowledge to doe ill , did make them Ignorant Of the Redresse , not bless'd alone in this Although the ayre and earth increas'd their blisse , But that an able Bodie was combin'd In a sweet friendship with a harmelesse mind . They knew no Physicke ( though their drugs did grow Then in full vertue , able to bestow Health on this age ) because they Knew not how To get those Sicknesses , which men Know now . The Ague with a hundred names ; the Aches More than the Ioynts ; the Palsey that attaches The limbes with Dissolution ; the wild And Bedlem Phrensie : the Vertigo , stil'd Because it whirles the giddie braines about : The sweving Megrim ; and the racking Gout : The cruell Stone ; the torturing Collicke fierce And wringing winds , which through the lims disperse Their ayrie torments ; lingring dispence Of pale Consumptions , which besot the sense : The Deluge of a Dropsie : When shall I Run through 'em all ? the sleepie Lethargie ; Quick-murdring Apoplexie which doth Kill E're it makes Sicke : the piteous Falling-Ill : The Elephant-skin'd Leprosie : Iaundies staine : Ambush'd Impostumes which surprize the braine : With hart-assaulting Pleurisies : the tough And clutterd Flegme : and Rheume that breeds the Cough : Strappado , Cramps ; the sodaine-pricking Stitch ; The Night-mare : which the people thinke a Witch , Th' all conquering Pox , to which compar'd the rest Are Lady Sick-fits : this is that forraine guest The Diuell-instructed Indies to us sold To recompence the filching of their Gold . All these and more innumerable powers Lay siege unto this weake-wall'd Fort of ours And oft surprize an Out-worke , yea sometime In desperate malice ready are to clime The walls themselues : till that the heart much like A strong Defendant maketh good the Dike And giues 'em a repulse : yet oft alas , This noble Champion staines the conquer'd Masse With dying blood : For Sicknesse is a Fight , The victory doubtfull , Chances infinite . But hath that power who is all Mercy , still More , and more cruell Punishments to Kill Minute-liu'd man ? yea , though you adde to these Pale meager Famine , Murders of the Seas , And Warres vast Slaughters ; you shall find one more That may affright the rest wee nam'd before The Plague , whose very naming seemes t' affright My trembling Quill , as it doth hast to write , Lest as it raging flies about the land This Instant it might seaze vpon my hand : The Plague a dreary Punishment , Heauens curse , The fatall Engine of Destruction , worse Than we can well imagine , which doth bring Terrour on mortals , Death on euery thing , And Desolation unto Cities : O What ere thou art , dire Ill , whether thou doest flow From powerfull Influence of the Starres , or rather Doest thy vast malice and contagion gather From poisonous Southerne windes , which haue preuail'd Vpon the sickly ayre , or Steames Exhal'd From th' Earths enuenom'd wombe : or whether 't bee Our Bodies Constitutions , which agree With the malicious ayre and so contract The quicke Infection : whether 't be the Pact Of Fate , and will of Heauen which doth stand , Or Gods immediate angry mooued hand , As 't is ; O pull it in , thou Gracious Power , And let not this blind Enemie deuoure The Grace of England . CHARLES implores , wee With him in zealous Orisons agree : Heare him for us , and us for him ; and stay Thy dreadfull vengeance , which doth now display Horror through all thy People , and begins To shew the vgly portraict of our sins , Which haue pull'd downe thy wrath . O let suffice That world of bloud in foreine Ayre that lyes , Of noble English soules , whose carkasses The brutish Shores , wild Fields , and greedie Seas Expose to Dogs , to ravenous Fowles , and Fishes ; Ah , little answering to the tender wishes Of their poore mothers , who at home the while Gape at their childrens Honours , and beguile Their early feares with too late hopes : alas They little thinke , that now the soyled Grasse Vsurpes their deare embraces , and grim Fate Sits pale vpon those Beauties , which of late They made their Ages comforts , who now shall Ah! be bound to them for a Buriall . O call to mind this Fatall Yeere , wherein * * Equally & justly sent . Thy Iustice hath been equall to our Sin ; Both great : O let thy blessed Goodnesse still , As it is wont to doe , surpasse our Ill. Those men whom we did love , whom we did trust Should be our Shields , are turn'd to Shades , to Dust ; Let the in-throned Soule of IAMES implore , That after Him , thou punish His no more : Let the great Sprite of OXFORD , which hath past The Sentence of thy Anger , be the last Thou plaguest vs withall ; and let us know , That still thou pittiest us , poore men , below . But never let this Land endure againe That wofull solitude , which once did raigne In our faire Cities ; which , neglected left , In a deplored ruine , shew'd the theft Of angrie Fate : when scarce a tenant Mouse Was left , in many a faire unpeopled house ; But the sad Owles and Night-Ravens aloofe , Did keepe their Revels on the silent roofe : When at high Noone one passing by , should meet A Mid-night Darke , and silence in the street ; When in the wayes well-pav'd and worne before By frequent steps of men , there now grew store Of uncouth Grasse ; and Harvests now apace Grew where they once were sold , i'th'Market-place : When as no Merryments , no Sports , no Playes Were knowne at all , and yet all Holy-dayes . No Papers then over the doores were set , With , Chambers readie furnish'd to be let ; But a sad , Lord haue mercie vpon vs , and A bloodie Crosse , as fatall Marks did stand , Able to fright one from the Prayer . The time Then held it an inexpiable Crime , To visit a sicke friend : Strange Stoure , wherein Love was a fault and Charitie a sin ; When Bad did feare infection from the Good , And men did hate their cruell Neighbour-hood . 'T was a deplored time , wherein the Skyes Themselves did labour , and let fall their eyes ; When one might see the Sunne , with sallow hayre And languishing complexion , dull the ayre : Looking eeu'n so , as when at Chryses Plaint , He went like Night , the Graecian troupes to taint With sad Infection ; when his dire shafts cast , Kill'd more than Hector in the nine yeeres past . The Heavens were cloth'd with bleak mists , & the aire With the thick Dampe , was struck into despaire Of future clearenesse , or serener day , But that the Clouds for feare ran oft away . The Night , whose dewie shade had wont to tame The soultry reliques of the Mid-day flame , Distill'd no Crystall Pearles vpon the ground ; But wrapt in vaporous smoake , and cloath'd around With poysonous Exhalations , did affright The trembling Moone ; whose dim and paler light Look'd with that countenance , as if againe Her silver hornes should ne're escape the Wane , So to renew her Circuit . The dull Quire Of sickly Starres shew'd now no smiling fire , But shone like un-snuff'd Tapers : as if Fate Did give them leave now to prognosticate Their owne estate , not others ; and applie Themselves at last to sad Astrologie . The poyson-clutter'd Springs , with Plague infus'd , Ran not with Crystall torrents , as they us'd ; But in dull streames , as them dire influence fills , With fainting pace , scarce reach'd unto their rills : And languid Rivers , which before did passe The Crystall with their clearenesse ; now , alas , Looke muddie , without stirring : and their streames , That wont to be all spangled with the beames Of the blithe Sunne ; now , in a weltring floud , Ran not with water , but prodigious bloud . Those Trees whereof the Antients us'd to rayse Their Funerall Piles , might in these fatall dayes Burne at their owne Death's , which in sad despayre Spred not their leavie beauties through the ayre , But suffer'd Autumne in the Spring : forlorne And ferall Cypresse now had cause to mourne , Poppeyes themselves this time in death did sleepe , And the Myrrhe-tree had reason here to weepe A Funerall Perfume : those gaudie flowers Which wont to make Ghirlonds for Paramours , Mourn'd in their drouping braverie , and spread The ground at their owne deaths , as for the dead . The Corne grew not , as if it meant t'undoo Men not with Plague alone , but Famine too . Herbes , Physicks Soveraignes , here infected die , And for themselves could find no remedie . The brute Beasts now , which Nature , to bestow The Excellence on Man , did make with low Downe-looking Postures , first did feele the rage Of th' Earth-borne Plague , and died before their age . The long-liv'd Hart this time to die began , Before it reach'd unto the age of Man . The faithfull Spaniell , by his death , did trie The mischiefe of his well-nos'd Facultie , And ranging with quick Sent , did soonest prove Th' infectious Malice of the Dogge above . The lustie Steed , scouring in 's Game apace , Lights on Deaths Gole , in middle of his Race : The nimble Fowle , as th' ayre it flyes around , Flags his sick wings , and sinkes unto the ground , Not long before to the remorselesse Skie In sillie Notes have sung his Elegie . The lucklesse Night-Ravens , which us'd to grone The death of others , now might Dirge their owne : The Snow-plum'd Swan , as it did gently ride Vpon the silver Streame , sung forth , and di'de . Anon the Damp dares breake into the Walls , Making a way by thousand Funeralls : Who can expresse th' astonishment and feare , Which doth at entrance of a Plague appeare ? Even so the fleeced Heard doth tremble , when An Aburne Lion , hungrie from his Den , Breakes in among 'em : then you may behold The pale-look'd Shepheard gaze upon his Fold With helpelesse pitie , the poore Lam-kins creepe Vnder their Dams ; the sillie trembling Sheepe Stand full of cold amazement at the sight , Small hope for mercie , and lesse hope in flight , Expecting onely which of all shall scape The readie horror of the Lions rape , Other Diseases warning give before , That we may reckon , and acquit the Skore Of our sinnes Prodigalitie : in this , We scarce can be resolved whether 't is Sicknesse , or Death it selfe ; so quick it tries The strength of Nature , so soone poore Man dies : That many to repose in th' Evening lying , Have made their sleepe true kin to Death , by dying Before the Morne . Ah! who would then deferre A preparation for this Messenger Of bless'd or curs'd Eternitie ? What man Would still presume to sinne , that knowes the span Of short uncertaine Life ? Yee gracious Powers , That measure out the minutes and the houres Of this our wandering Pilgrimage , restraine These sodaine slaughter-men ; or , good God waine Vs from our sinnes , that wee may neither feare The rape of Death , nor covet to be here : O curbe this raging Sicknesse , which with sense Bereaves us of the meanes of Penitence . When a dire Phrensie seizeth on the Braine , Full of resistlesse flame , and full of paine ; That Madnesse , which no cure can well appease , Is but a Symptome , unto this Disease . Our bloud all fire , as if it did portend We were not here to stay , but soone ascend ; When streames of sulphur through our veins do glide , And scarce the sense of sorrow doth abide . This time how miserable , may we guesse , Where want of sense , is chiefest happinesse : When the distracted Soule can scarce devise How to supply the weakest Faculties Of the disturbed Bodie ; but presents Vnto the Eye strange objects , strange portents , And antique shadowes : when the feverish rage Sets us on Iourneyes oft , and Pilgrimage , And entertaines our wild and wandering sight With monstrous Land-schips , able to affright A man in 's wits : when the deceived Eares Doe apprehend what ere the Fancie feares ; The grones of Ghosts , and whispering of Sprites , The silken tread of Faeries in the Nights , The language of an ayrie Picture , howles Of funerall Dogs , and warnings of sad Owles . The Tast distasteth all things , and the same Is sweet , and bitter , when the inward flame Furres the swolne Tongue ; & the quick Feeling marr'd , Knoweth no difference betweene soft and hard : Such a confused Error doth distract The labouring Senses , so is the Fancie rackt By the dire sicknesse ; when from place to place The Bodie rolleth , and would faine embrace Some Icie cooler : but alas , the heat Asswaging , there ensues a Marble sweat 'Twixt Death and Nature , wrestling : then appeare Those deadly Characters , which th' Ensigne beare Before approching Fate ; which notice give , None spotlesse die , how ever they did live . A sicknesse comfortlesse ; when we do feare To see those friends whom we do love most deare . The Ministers Devotion here doth stick , By leaving Visitation of the sick , Making the Service-Booke imperfect : when We see a crossed Doore , as 't were a Den Of Serpents , or a Prodigie , we shun The poore distressed Habitation . The Death as comfortlesse ; where not appeares One friend , to shed some tender funerall teares : Black Night 's the onely Mourner . No sad Verse , Nor solemne flowers do deck the drearie Herse : Some few old folke perhaps , for many a yeere Who have forgot to weepe , attend the Beere ; Such , whose drie age hath made most fit to keepe Th' infected without feare , but not to weepe ; Whose kin to death , made them not feare to die , Whose deafenesse made them then fit companie Vnto the sick , when they were speechlesse growne : A miserable Consolation . But had you look'd about , you might have seene Death in each corner , and the secret teene Of angrie Destinie : No sport dispells The mists of sorrow ; a sad silence dwells In all the streets , and a pale terror seizes Vpon their faces , who had no Diseases . So usuall 't was , before the Morne to die , That when at Night two friends left companie , They would not say , Good Night ; but thus alone , God send 's a ioyfull Resurrection . If two or three dayes interpos'd betweene , One friend by chance another friend had seene , It was as strange , and joyfull , as to some , When a deare friend doth from the Indies come . Throgh the nak'd town , of death there was such plenty , One Bell at once was faine to ring for twenty . No Clocks were heard to strike upon their Bells , Cause nothing rung but death-lamenting Knells . Strange , that the Houres should faile to tell the Day , When Time to thousands ran so fast away . Time was confus'd , and kept at such a plight , The Day to thousands now was made a Night . Hundreds that never saw before , but di'de , At one same time , in one same Grave abide ; That our weake Fancies , if we did not hold It Profanation , here to be too bold , Might wonder what , being strangers , they would say To one another at the Iudgement Day . Some , by their feare to go to Church debarr'd , Anon are carryed dead unto the Yard . The Church-yards gron'd , with too much death opprest , And the Earth rests not , 'cause so many rest . And Churches now with too much buriall fed , Fear'd they should haue no meetings but of Dead : Death fell on death , and men began to feare That men would want to carry forth the Bere . The Bearers , Keepers , Sextons that remaine Surpasse in number all the towne againe . Friends here kill'd friends , womb-fellowes Kill their Brothers Fathers their Sons , and Daughters kill their Mothers : By one another ( strange ! ) so many di'de And yet no murder here , no Homicide . A Mother great with Child by the Plagues might Infects to Death her Child not borne to light . So killing that which yet ne're liu'd ; the wombe Of th' aliue Mother , to th' dead Child was tombe , Where in the fleshy graue the still Babe lying Doth kill his Mother by his owne first dying . Her trauaile here on Earth she could not tend But finishes in heauen her Iournies end . To others , frolicke set vnto their meales Secure of death slie Death vpon them steales And strikes among 'em , so that thence in speed With heauy Cheere th' are borne the wormes to feed . To some at worke to others at their play , To thousands death makes a long Holy-day . Death all conditions equally inuades , Nor riches , power , nor beautie here perswades , Old dye with young , with women men , the rage Of the dire Plague spares neither sex nor age . Most powerfull Influence of ruling Starres Which with blind darts Kill more than bloody Wars Resistlesse Famine greedy Time , or when The threatfull hand of Tyrants striketh men Into pale terrour , more than all diseases Ah , happy hee who heauen least displeases . FINIS .

HOLLAND his Hornet To sting a Varlet : OR , A few Satyricall lashes for one that did falsly accuse him , to the late Lord Keeper , of a Libell against IOHN OWENS Monument in Pauls .

By ABRAHAM HOLLAND .

Against one that impos'd a Libell on me , to the late Lord KEEPER . WHosoe're thou wast that thus Mistaken or Malicious , ( The last I doe imagine ) that Didst Father on mee this vile Brat A stinking Libell , goe and bee Scorn'd of all as much as mee . May I know thy Name in Time Libell'd in some Ballad-Rime : May I heare thee 'bout the Street Begging Offall for the Fleet : May'st thou cry in tuned Prose Cornes haue you on your Feet , or Toes , Or Rats to catch , and in the end Veniee-Glasses haue you to mend . May Iustice make thee so to lacke To offer Lines to all in Blacke . And succeed if Vengeance linger At last the one-Legg'd Ballad-Singer . Foule ill thy judgement , couldst thou find None whom thou couldst thinke inclin'd To Libelling but me , no one That made lewd Verse but me alone . No itching Scriuener that doth make Verses by an Almanacke ? No lazie leaden-witted , Asse Professing Poetrie ( alas . ) No Latin'd Merchant , whose fine clothes Scorne that hee should write in Prose ? No parcell-Gentleman that vowes Hee can still the Latine towze ? No busie Lawyers Clerke , that still Will vsurpe Poeticke skill ? No pretie Toy , no learned Foole ? Nor clownish Vsher of a Schoole ? Couldst thou find none , but must disperse Mee the Author of that Verse So basely libellous , and durst Me of all men picke out first To bee thy Toung-Ball ? or didst rather Thy owne bastard on mee Father ? A Palsey take my Muse , if I Knew how to make a quicke reply To them who did this Fame disclose , Whether it were Verse or Prose , A Volume , or a Pamphlet , long Or short , Iämbick , or a song Latine , or Greeke , Tuscan , or Welch , Or such as puffing Dutchmen belch In their Fat Language : strange that I Should stretch a Line from Coventry And make it reach to Pauls , and place It under OWENS brazen face : Wretch ! I would haue thee know , that Time I was vers'd in other Rime As free from malice , as from thee And the wrong thou putst on mee : Where sweet Damsels did infuse Flame into mee , and to my Muse , The onely sting I had did rise From the Lustre of their eyes , Where our Pastime was , to sing By the Bankes of some cleare Spring : No venome ambush'd in those Floods Which haue no Satyres in our Woods Onely sometime in gentle Rankes As wee walked o're the Bankes I a blacke-swolne Toade did see Wee now I thinke was kin to thee : But of a better kinde , that could Within it selfe it's venome hold . Well , thou hast done thy worst to mee , I 'le tell thee what I thinke of thee , Sure some opinionated Asse Thou art , who in the world dost passe For a wise Man ( by these rules Wee best know who are best Fooles ) Some bosome-creeper , fed with sloth , A Foole , a Mad-man , or else both : Some seeming Statist , who canst find By what 's before , what is behind . That hadst as much respect of mee As I meane to haue of thee . Yea , this I guesse , and certaine know it Thou art held some * * Or if yo● will Errant● arrant Poet. One of those about the Towne Who did scatter up and downe Naenia's on th' untimely Fate Of the good Duke , and DORSET late . Who in nought more lucklesse were Than that They left thee tampring here To soyle their Ghosts , and whiter Fames And lamentably teare their Names . Some Fantasticke Cockes-combe , who Affects a garbe with much adoe . Yea , though perhaps thou bear'st my Name , At thy conditions I 〈◊〉 shame : And this I 'le lay my life vpon None of my Religion , Who as haply 't is thy vse Would'st the People thus seduce And Malicious draw on mee A crime so neere to Heresie That is to wrong my friends , and made Mee this vncouth stile inuade To bee a rayler , who doe vse , The world doth know , a gentler Muse . FINIS .
TO MY DEARE FATHER , Mr. PHILEMON HOLLAND , Doctor in Physicke , beeing Sicke . SPring of my life , by whom I first did trie This bitter-sweet of fraile Mortalitie : Source of my beeing , next to him that giues The diuine Power , by which each mortall liues : O thinke not but your Children doe comprize Part of your Sicknesse , wee all sympathize In your Disease : let it to all bee knowne What e're is yours in sorrow , is mine owne . Let no ill Omen bee that while I write To yeeld some comfort , teares doe blind my sight , I would suppresse'em ; nor vaine-glorious hence Seeke other witnesse but my Conscience Which may to GOD beare record , how my heart , In each disaster , with you beares a part . Let me , deare Father , pardon here implore If my Muse languish ; ne're had I before So ill a Theame : the Subiect dimm's mine eyes And makes my sickly Verses sympathize . O , how my hautie Muse I could haue strain'd If I had seene your merits had obtayn'd A due reward : if I had knowne the worth Which lyes in you had bin full blazed forth About the world ; and so might gladly see Your worthy name as deare to all ▪ as mee . And now , good Father , as I know your mind Is with all precepts drawne from Heauen refin'd Though Sicknesse bee the calling for the Skore The Epitome , and Bill of life before By which as by a Serjeant God demands Of passed life defrayment at our hands : Yet let not us a Medicine applie To one so fraught with good Phylosophie , But let us them of you still borrow , giuing By liuing still , example of good liuing . Yet if a young unstayed head may giue Precepts to die ( when Fate doth please ) and liue , ( Long may it bee ) 't is thus : O , let not cares That gall the troubled mind , nor sad affaires Of this world vexe you , neither thinke it losse If to gaine Heaven , you gaine but little drosse Of fading wealth ; I dare without sinne sweare That wealth 's unworthy you , that 's scraped here . Let it not grieue you that the vulgar crew Haue not to your deseruings giuen the dew ; Vertue most part is in the world despiz'd And those that most doe merit least are priz'd . You know that so it hath bin in all Ages , The best Philosophers , and wisest Sages , The greatest Poets haue bin still exempt Of present glory , drowned in contempt , When yet their glorious Fame that could not die Was crown'd with future immortalitie . God is in debt to them who here haue liu'd Deseruing well , and little haue receiu'd , And though the Principall a while doe rest Hee 'l pay 't at last with double interest , Heauen is not rich for nothing , but be sure 'T is treasur'd for the wealth-deseruing Poore . And to your selfe though God defray not it Your Childrens children shall receiue it yet . I would not haue you enuie them , who here In the worlds judgement glorious appeare , On whom this Earth's abounding wealth encroaches Who liue secure , whose Heauen is their Coaches , Long traines of Seruants , and delicious cates , Saluters , Flatterers , and delicates For their faire carkasses : beleeue it true God's scarce acquainted with thus-bless'd a crew . His owne Sonn 's an example , who among Vs men , was poore , despiz'd , and suffer'd wrong , To whom men scarce would meanes or meales afford ; O , who would grudge to imitate our Lord ? Yet know when blacke Obliuion shall rot Their worthlesse names , their merits flourish not , Then shall your memory unbounded flie And neuer perish till the world doe die . O , doe not under-value so your selfe To thinke them richer who haue greater pelfe , I 'le undertake ten thousand in this Land Who both themselues and you doe understand , Though cloy'd with riches on their wealthy floores Would willingly exchange their worth for yours . O! that I could perswade you to thinke lesse Of this base world , and see your happinesse . Say , this ungratefull Towne , this lucklesse Cage Wherein you haue bin cooped all your age And spent your golden yeares , to gaine a few Who are in nothing but dissembling true Hollow , tongue-friends , if I may call them friends Who haue vs'd you to their peculiar ends A friend in title , but a slaue indeed To serue their turnes : ô that you had tane heed In time of these : yet what should one expect Of such a base-borne rabble but neglect For good deserts : a rout that neuer knew What meant moralitie , nor euer drew The Sacred milke of Learning : whose chiefe height Is to know yards of Draperie , and the weight Of Grocerie and Spices , whose base birth Life , manners , friendship , all doe smell of earth Grosse vile and muddie : yet one comfort is The time may bee when you this Towne shall misse And say with griefe , we once had such a one Wee hated vertue present , but now gone We long and wish for 't . Thus in many places The worthiest mens rewards haue bin disgraces ; Thus Athens wont her best deseruers use Thus Rome her noble Statesmen to abuse With death or banishment : thus still wee trie Contempt ensues familiaritie : Yea , Prophets ( as our Sauiours selfe did deeme ) In their owne Countries still haue small esteeme . Well , whatsoe're this Towne doe thinke you , let It thus bee Knowne , All England's in your debt . Yet are there some ( I dare avouch it ) good Ingenuous mindes who hauing understood Your worth and merits , loue your very name , Though farre remote , yea , and admire the same . I doubt not yet , deare Father , e're you die By timely Fate , to see you rais'd as high As your well-weigh'd ambition aimes at , which Is to bee sweetly well content , not rich , T' enioy your friends , and children , and they you To spend your fading old yeares residue In sweet tranquillitie , and liue with such As will respect and honour you as much As here they slight you , and the time from hence Shall all your past misfortunes recompence : All comforts fit for age shall you be giuen , Your onely care to make your path for Heauen . And if my selfe a Poet may presage You shall haue yet an old new Golden age . God will not end your aged dayes , so long As you may still helpe and doe good among His people here : But as a Captaine when He meanes to exercise his faithfull'st men He puts them upon dangers , makes them trie Disasters , hardnesse and all miserie , That when at last the foe shall be repair'd They bee not found unskill'd and unprepar'd . Sicknesse is but a mustring show , wherein Wee learne to fight , to skirmish and to win At the last combat , Death : in that tide Happy is hee that oftest Sicknesse tride . Such as did all-wayes in full health remaine Are oft poore wretches lamentably slaine As untri'd Souldiers . Though once Fate by God Shall of your fraile make a period .
To his Friends in the Time of his Sicknesse . A resolution against Death . FRiends , if it bee my lot , as some men vse To pay their debt sooner than you would chuse To harsh exacting Fate I would not haue You stand lamenting o're my youthfull Graue As if it were my Prison , and I throwne There on a desperate Execution . I know there 's no release from 't yet more free Know I this prison than your libertie . I would not haue you raile at it , and say That it from you had closely stolne away And treacherously betray'd your Friend : alas They erre who thinke they into th' graue doe passe As to a Punishment , and therefore call It the sad Vrne , the Place of Buriall , The house of Lamentation , Lifes Thiefe ; The Den of Sorrow , and the Cell of Griefe : You wrong it by these Names , It is my Bed , Where Lifes Day spent , I lay my wearied And o'retoyl'd Body , in a long deepe Night Till hee that giues all Day , renew my Light . It is my sleeping chayre , my chayre of State , Wherein I sit equall with conquering Fate . And out-face Death , daring him if hee can To challenge more than I haue payd of Man . Make him my Sinnes-bill cancell , and agree That Christs crosse o're it my acquittance bee . As a poore Traueller , whom the conceite Of a long tedious Iourney , thitst , and heate , And wearinesse tormenteth , by the Way Longing for home , all he can doe , doth Pray For some Refreshment , at the last espies The joyfull smoake of his owne Countrey rise To bid him welcome : then with Pleasures Teares Hee casts away both Languishment , and Feares . And smiling takes the next Banke hee doth see . So pleasing is my Graue , so sweet to mee . This piece of Ground , which you in scorne perchance Miscall my Graue , is my Inheritance . That 't is intayl'd on me , the Law averres By due succession from my Grandfathers . Mine it hath bin , by right , since Adam curst Man with this Blessing , and possess'd it first . While I haue Life heere , I am but Lifes Ward ; And by my Nonage from my right debarr'd . Death giues me that 's so long kept from my Hand I 'me now at Age , and come unto my Land . Nor thinke my Purchase too soone gayn'd , but call My eight and twentie Climactericall . My Graue's my long-sought Inne to which at most It can be said , that I haue ridden Post . Whither retyred some perhaps will feare The sawcie Wormes will bee intruders there To feed upon me , whilest my Faith protests It is not so , they bee my bidden Guests . What Man is hee , that hauing in the Time Of life , committed some foule haynous crime . And knowing that the Fame of it 's inroll'd In characters of Brasse , yea were 't of Gold , That would not praise the hand , and friendly call Which scratches out the sad Memoriall Wherein doth liue his Infamie : what soule That knowes this fleshly Table doth inroll The Memory of our Faults , that would not call Wormes and the Graue Redressers of our Fall . The one of which doth hide , the other devoures All that was guiltie , shamefull , bad of ours . Our Graue's the veyle , which shadowes from the eyes Of Posthume Malice our Iniquities . This wretched thing you mourne for and behold The dreary Linnen , and the Earth to fold . This thing compact of sinewes , Bone and Blood The Receptacle both of Sinne , and Food Death's ready Executioners , This This is not Holland , but 's Effigies Which when 't was best , and by the Soule could moue Was but a liuely shape of God aboue And onely bless'd in that , but now , alas ! That chiefe Ingredient of the curious Masse That gaue it Actiue Life is ta'ne away And Nothing left but ruine , and Decay : A thing so despicable , base , and vile That lest it should surviving Men defile Wee Prison'● first in Linnen , then in Wood Then ramme it deepe in Earth , and to make Good The rest , lest it againe approach the Day Make marble Bulwarkes o're the wretched clay . Egyptians hence did their dead Kings embowre In tombes as bigge as their blaspheming Towre . Raising in weaker mindes sometimes a doubt How they at th' Resurrection will get out . Of these strong Prisons , whose unweldy Frames Seeme rather to oppresse , than raise their Names . Doubtless this wretched thing call'd Man whose curse Light upon all things , is than all things worse When once his soule is gone ; The silly Flower Though dead , and wither'd , yet retaines some Power Availeable in Physicke ; Cattell when Th' are dead themselues , nourish the liues of Men And dead Grasse theirs ; And Corne is neuer good Vntill it bee cut downe , and us'd for food . No tree so rude , no shrub so base , no beast So vile , but dead serues for some use , at least For ornament , wee loue to see by skill A curious limb'd Picture , and stand still To gaze upon it , yea wee can endure To see Deaths shaddow , and grim Portraicture Though ne're so ugly , when against a wall Set a dead man indeed , amongst us all You scarcely shall finde one that will not flie As at a Monster or grim Prodigie . Doe you then grieue to see this Bugbeare toy This scarre-crow layd aside , to shun th' annoy Of the beholders ? or for my Soule is it That you doe mourne , which now doe throned sit Surfetting with pure Ioyes , and holy mirth And smiles at that for which you weepe on earth That 't is dislodg'd from that debauched Inne Which helpt it ne're in ought , but onely sinne . I would haue giuen you leaue to mourne if then I had by suddaine Death , bin summon'd , when Wretch'd man I labour'd to the height of sin And bolder grew the deeper I grew in ; When Vice was turn'd to custome , and each deed Though ne're so impious , did perswade with speed Another worse , as if Despaire had bin The beastly Pander to unbrideled sin . But Heau'n be bless'd , Heau'n better lou'd my soule Than without stay to let it headlong roll To everlasting Death , and so did Kill The Body sooner to retayne that still . The Soule as hee inspir'd it pure , nor at all Conscious of sinne , no not Originall . Thinke you I feare those things which you doe call By such blacke names ? The Griefly Funerall The Fatall beere , sad Flowers and dreary Hearse The mournefull Followers , and the weeping Verse ? Thinke you already I doe not disdaine The mightie tapers , and the sable traine ? Or e're I doe expire , thinke you my soule Will be so cowardly , to feare the toll Of a sad bell , whose heauy language goes Deadly as if it did intend to close It's voyce with mine ? Thinke you I doe not spie The dolefull silence of the standers by As if they all were speechlesse , and from me Did draw one generall stupid sympathy ? Me thinkes I heare the silly Women say Hee is whole chested , and will goe away By dying upward , and some other trie If that my legges be cold , and straight doe lye . Here s one doth Iudge my feeble Pulse , and cryes 'Cause shee must bee the Friend to close mine eyes . Another maketh Triall of my Breath Thus doe I heare 'em furnish me for Death . But ó let me not heare them , let my sprite Bee busie then in purchasing a light : More sweet then Life it selfe , may wholly I Bee fix'd in thoughts of Immortalitie . Let me then an audacious Client stand Pressing to Kisse my unseene Sauiours hand , And let me bee so busie in my Prayers That not the Feare of Death , nor ougly cares Throng'd in the memory may disturbe the Soule Which now is neere to Heav'n her capitoll In the last Triumph , after Conquest wonne O're Death and Hell ; and grim Perdition . T is a toy to thinke when life is past That Fate did lagge , or else made too much hast When wee die quickly , or by tedious Age Fulfill the circuit of Lifes Pilgrimage In my opinion a Day-ag'd Child Hath when it dyes a race as well fulfill'd As Clymacterick Old men ; I confesse Not with so many out-rodes , yet no lesse Exactly . Nature doth averre the same And a day Rose , aswell an Age may claime As the long liued Oake : Though Time devoure The one so slowly th' other in an Houre . If'cause I dye before you , you repine I 'le thinke you enuy at this blisse of mine And wish't your owne , there 's nought but sinne in me That could deserue long life , and miserie : Which Sinne , the God of Mercy quell'd , and check't The cause , and after tooke away th' effect Long life ; or if because I dye so soone And come into mine Evening at the Noone And full Meridian of mine age , you erre And doe not know what blisse the Fates conferre On mee hereby , by which I shall obtayne As I now dye to rise at last againe In fresher youth : The Marriner behold To gather up a little Pelfe and Gold Contemned Death ; If hee doe chance to finde A nearer Cut to China , or to Inde Reioyceth , and shall wee who through this vale And gulfe of miserie in Life doe sayle , Grudge if the Fates doe show a nearer Haven , Our Purchase being no Gold nor Pelfe but Heaven ? FINIS .
A LETTER , Savouring of Mortification , written and sent in the time of the late Visitation of the Plague , to his deere Brother H. H. in LONDON .

DEare Brother , I am sorry your other occasions would not permit mee to enjoy your company longer , at my last being at London ; especially , in this time of sorrow , when the dearest friends are not able to say to day , wee will meet to morrow : which me thinkes cannot choose but put euery man in minde how carefull hee ought to bee , that though in our Kinred and Friendship wee be separated on Earth , wee may by true repentance , and relinquishing our sinnes , gaine that blisse that at the reunion againe of soule and body , in that happy communion of Saints we may meet againe with joy . Our small Village here as an out-member of your great Citie suffers proportionably with it the heauy stroke of Gods wrath , insomuch that whole Families of the most curious preventers haue beene wofully swept away : especially a Gentleman lest to keepe the Countesse of Nottinghams * * This house is called , the Kings Nurcerie . House , who with his Wife a beautifull Gentlewoman , and foure most sweet and louely Children , and their Man , are all gone , I hope to blisse , and their Mayd that is onely left , lying at the mercy of God : Wretch that I am , why delay I one minute , to cast my selfe prostrate at the feet of Mercy , and prepare my selfe for the like passage ? Within these few dayes most of this house in the judgement of men were likely to out-liue mee , whose wilde and looser youth threatens a too timely old-age : They liu'd in a beautious House , a refined and pure Ayre , wanted neither Antidote nor assisting Physicke , and yet alas they now are not , they are dust , and ashes , and the food of Wormes . O! the depth of the wisedome of our great GOD : hee saw that it was good for them to dye to gaine a better life , and for us , that by their deaths wee may learne and prepare our selues to dye . Ah Brother ! thinke not this is a time Rhetorically to set forth a sorrow , or passion , thinke not but my heart speakes what I write ; I know the reward of Sinne , I know the value of a Soule , thinke not but while it is in my power , by the merits of CHRIST , I will haue a care and prouidence for the price of my Saviours blood , my Soule .

Deare Brother , I doubt not but you are so well prepared and armed against this Visitation of God , that my weake devotion is either needlesse , or unable to assist you : Yet I desire you not any way to deject your selfe ( onely in the humiliation for sinne ) in this great Assizes of Almighty God where we all are brought to our Trials . For my selfe I thanke the comforting Spirit of God , I haue not beene these many yeares in so great securitie as I am in this time of imminent danger : When euery minute telling me I must die , and that God knowes how soone , I now and but now begin to liue ; alas the time that I spent before was but death , and I liu'd but in a dreame . A man in my judgement never more liues than when hee is most mortified ; I perswade my selfe that man shall neuer die who di'd while hee liu'd . Brother , I am resolu'd so soone as this heauy Storme is ouer to enter my selfe into the Orders of the Ministrie , wherein I doubt not but to finde such Friends as quickly to prouide my selfe of an honest and competent liuing , God is my judge I shall not bee at quiet till by truely labouring to saue others Soules I assure mine owne saluation . If God lend me a longer life , this is my resolution ; if otherwise , it bee his will to take mee from hence , though I could not in my Life , I beseech God that I may glorifie him in my Death . I pray you when you write to Coventry to remember my humblest dutie to my deare and aged Parents , to whom I doubt not yet but by adding some comfort to their grey-hayres , to requite partly my former disobedience : desire both them and my Brothers and Sisters to pray for mee , as I doe for them . Brother , I must confesse you haue beene more like a Father than a Brother unto mee ; God bee with you , remember mee to your Wife , and let us heartily pray for one another and bee cheerefull . I rest ;

Your loving Brother : ABRAHAM HOLLAND . Chelsey , August , 24. 1625.
A Confession of my Sinnes to GOD , and a testimonie of my Faith .

TO number my sinnes O Lord is impossible , for they haue bin infinite ; to measure them our , past humane skill , for they haue bin immense , and ah ! too great : to repent truely for them not in my power , without the grace of thy holy Spirit : to obtaine pardon for them incredible , but through the infinitenesse of thy still ready mercy , and the all-sufficient-merits of my deare Saviour and Redeemer : yet ( ô good Lord ) were my sinnes numberlesse as the Sands , or Atomes that flit through the ayre ; yet should they neuer compare in number with thy Mercies ; were they for quantitie not to be comprehended , thy goodnesse should surpasse them : for qualitie not to bee mentioned , foule and abhominable , thy Purenesse is able to make them cleane , and turnes the blackest of them into whitenesse of Snow , their deepest graine of scarlet into wooll . I haue sinned , I haue highly sinned , ( ô Lord ) I haue long sinned , and shall still sinne unlesse thou helpe ( ô Lord ) unlesse thy grace prevent . To amend my life ( ô Lord ) I haue made many and earnest vowes , when thou hast but gently afflicted mee ; in my health I haue ever slipped backe , and trodden in the steppes of my former sinnes , what then ( ô Lord ) can I expect but a continuall miserie that I may know thee ? Yet ( ô Lord ) knowing that thy Will is not to destroy , but preserue , thy Glory to forgiue , not punish , and my Saviour as willing as able to bee a powerfull Mediatour with thee , for us Sinners the price of his bitter Passion . In the name of it , in the name of thy Goodnesse , thy Mercy , haue mercy good Lord upon mee , who require many drops of my Saviours blood to clense my Sinnes , so shall I praise thee in the Land of the living before I goe into the Graue , and there bee no more remembrance of mee .

A Metricall Version of part of PSALME , 73. SVre GOD loues Israell , and all Whose hearts are cleane , yet I Had like t' haue let my feet to fall And trodden in iniquitie : Because I did the bad ungodly see Stand still and flourish in Prosperitie . 2. Death's perill they doe never feare , But strong and lustie doe remaine : Nor like to us misfortunes beare , Nor suffer equall plagues and paine . This is the cause that they are swolne with Pride And over-whelm'd , in Crueltie abide . 3. Their eyes with fatnesse swell , and they Doe whatsoe're they can devise Others they doe Corrupt , and say Most vile and wicked blasphemies : Nor sticke they to revile the God of might And against Heaven powre forth malicious spight . 4. Thus all the world they doe infect Which makes the silly people goe Aside , and fall unto their Sect Thinking that they are blessed so : Tush how , say they , shall God perceiue what wee Doe heere , shall hee from high our actions see ? &c. &c.
Mr. T. C. the Authors endeared Friend his Poeticall Version on the 91. PSALME . 1. MAke the great God thy fort and dwell In him , by Faith , and doe not care ( So shaded ) for the fires of Hell Nor for the cunning Fowlers snare Nor Poyson of th' infected Ayre . 2. His Plumes shall make a Downy bed Where thou shalt rest , hee shall display His wings of Truth over thy head Which as a Shield shall chase away The Dreads of Night , the Darts of Day . 3. The winged Plague that flies by night , The Murdring Sword that kils by Day , Shall not thy Peacefull sleepes affright Though , on thy right and left hand , they A thousand and tenne thousand slay . 4. Onely thine eyes shall see the fall Of Sinners ; but because thy Heart Dwels with the Lord ; not one of All Those Ills , nor yet the Plaguy dart Shall dare approach neere where thou art . 5. When thou art troubled hee shall heare And helpe thee , for thy loue embrac't , And knew his name ; wherefore hee 'le reare Thy honours high ; and when thou hast Enioy'd them long ; saue thee at last . T. C.
A MEDITATION ON , PSALM , 6. Vers. 4.5 . Returne : deliver my Soule , &c.

ALL this Psalme of DAVID is Prayer ; and as one said , the very dreames of the righteous bee prayers to GOD : So the very Songs of DAVID bee Prayers ; In the beginning of the Psalme he useth only a deprecatorie prayer , Rebuke me not , &c. but afterwards hee comes to that Importunitie of prayer , that Impudency , that violence of prayer , as Austine saith , When wee earnestly Pray , Quasi agimus facto Obsidemus Deum , and as the Mathematician said , Hee could deuise an Instrument would remoue the whole fabricke of the world , if any one could but deuise him a place where to settle it . So DAVID hauing as it were setled this great instrument of Prayer upon GOD , turnes and as it were steeres him which way he will . Returne : which implies that hee had bin there before , for as God first made Flowers and Trees before he made the Sunne , but after a Paradise when the Sunne did vivificate it ; so God makes Man before the Sunne of Grace shine upon him , but then makes him a liuing Paradise , when hee inspires the Sunne of righteousnesse into our Soules ; and that is one kinde of returning to us ; yea , when by many relapses of sin we fall from God , hee giues us againe grace to repentance , that is another returning . There be three manner of significations of the originall word Shuba , here used . The first , Redire in locum suum , as heauy things to the Center and light to their exhausion upward ; so man returneth to the dust from whence first he came ; thus God returneth In terram suam , when hee revisireth the soule of a sinfull man . The second , in withdrawing his judgements from us . The third , when we by his corrections returne to him ; as it said Tyre and Sidon would haue returned in Sackcloth and Ashes , where the same word Shuba in the Syriack translation is used . The second , Eripe animam . The third , Salvum me sac , which implies such a Saluation as comes by CHRIST IESVS , the Originall beeing Iashag , whence IESVS comes .

The knowledge of God , is as Iob sayes of his friends ( to speake with reuerence ) a miserable consolation , without wee know him to bee our Saviour ; the very Atheists though they would denie it , the Lord will by the terrours of night moue them to confesse there is a GOD ; yea , they shall confesse there is a God , but shall not know him a Saviour .

It is strange how in all the Old Testament the Ancients did abhorre , distast and pray against Death , although they did know it was the way to their blisse ; and indeed if we consider death as it is , life and it may be put in an equall balance , as when Paul thought with himselfe how good and glorious it would bee for him to be quit of this miserable pilgrimage of Life , and the glory hee should receiue by Death , then fell hee to his Cupio Dissolvi , and the balance weighed on Deaths side ; but considering the good that the Church was to receiue by his staying , then otherwise . So was it with them of old to whom the joyes of Heaven were but shadowed by MOSES and the rest not so openly revealed as to us .

But divers expound this place mystically , for the death and hell of sinne . For without doubt in our naturall death wee praise God better than in this dying life . Yea , it is said that DIVES knew ABRAHAM in Hell , and had a Charitable care of his Brethren on earth , &c.

CERTEINE MEDITATIONS , By ABRAHAM HOLLAND . Commended and bequeathed to his deerest Mother , Mrs. ANNE HOLLAND , his deere Sisters , A. H. M. H. and E. A.

Let the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart bee alwayes acceptable in thy sight , O Lord , my strength and my Redeemer .

From this houre , O Lord , I haue vowed to serue thee , in holinesse and righteousnesse all the dayes of my life .

I beleeue , O Lord , helpe my unbeleefe .

MEDITAT. 1.

LORD ! let mee carefully examine my selfe what I was , now am , and what I may bee . I was ( O Lord ) before the inspiring of thy powerfull breath into a dead piece of clay , Nothing : I am by the malice of Sinne in ready way to Perdition : I may bee sodainly through the reward of sinne worse than Nothing : I was ( O Lord ) before I was , Predestinate by thy depth of wisedome , either to eternall Glory , or euerlasting Sorrow : I am almost uncertaine , poore worme as I am , by the innumerable heape of mine owne sinnes , and the infinite goodnesse , and mercies of CHRIST , which shall light on mee : I may bee by a too late and false , or a true and contrite repentance , subiect to either . I was ( O Lord ) in my Mothers wombe conceiued in the foulenesse of Sinne : I am ( O good Lord ! ) a dayly heaper of actuall Sin upon originall Corruption : What can I then expect but that I justly may be the ayme & marke of thy impartiall vengeance ? But ( O Sweet Lord ! ) I was loued of thee before I was borne : am daily preserued by thee though in the middest of my iniquities : and am in hope that through the all-sufficient Merits and Suffering of thy blessed Sonne , to bee saued after death from the power of Sinne and Hell , and with him glorified eternally : Let me then with shame remember what I was , and blush with sorrow what I am , and repent with sorrow what I may bee , and tremble .

MEDITAT. 2.

LEt mee ( O Lord ) judicially both contemne and feare this thing called Death : Let mee ( O Lord ) feare it as a man may , being the separation of his best acquaintance the Soule and Body ; let mee contemne the ouglinesse of it as being a Minister to bring both soule and body to a more sweet familiaritie : Let me feare it as it is the way to Hell , but contemne it being the gate of Heauen ; Feare it , as the wayes of Sinne ; Contemne it , being the reward and pay of a long misery : Let mee feare not the Arrest of it , but the Exetion : let me contemne it , knowing CHRIST is my Common-Bayle : Feare it , as a Monster ; but Contemne it as being Naturall . Let mee not see the face of it without trembling , but embrace with contempt , &c.

A Briefe Meditation .

MY heart is broken ( O Lord ) and my distracted thoughts wander vp and downe to finde out thy Mercy , mercy I seeke ( O Lord ; ) judgement sitteth at thy feet ( just God ) and Mercy on thy right hand , mercifull Father : giue her leaue a little ( O God ) to shew her pleasing countenance unto me the most vile , hainous , and presumptuous of all sinners .

O LORD , wee haue sinned , and thou hast punished ( O Lord ) wee still sinne and thou still doest punish , giue us Grace ( Good Lord ) that wee may sinne no more , that thou mayst desist from punishing . Let us die ( O Lord ) that wee may not die , and so strictly by the witnesse of our Consciences judge and Condemne our selues that wee be neither seuerely judged nor justly condemned by thee : who both canst , and desirest , if wee will truely repent shew thy Iudgement milde , and thy Mercy infinite . Lord , as of mee haue Mercy on all and show the light of thy Countenance , and we shall ( O Lord ) bee whole . AMEN .

A Meditation against the feare of Death .

ON the sodaine I cannot choose but thinke them madmen or children , who stand in feare of Death , and yet me thinkes euen thus they are wrong-named , since neither Mad men , Fooles nor Children , feare Death ; alas ! shall simplicitie , and sencelesse Folly doe more with them , than reason or Religion can doe with us ? Shall the Sea-tost Mariner be sorrie that from ten thousand dangers of the Sea hee is arriued at his safe and long-desired Haven ? Shall the sterved Prisoner repine if after many yeares wofull Captiuitie hee be at last set at wished Libertie ? Shall the tormented Sick-man grudge if from a long and languishing Disease , a speedy medicine restore him to his former perfect health ? Is not our Life a sea of troubles ? A lothsome dungeon ? A lingring sicknesse ? Is not Death the skilfull Pilot that guides us to Heaven ? Is not hee the good Iudge that sets us at libertie ? The skilfull Physician that cures our Mortalitie , and restores us to Eternall life ? What doe we else by desiring long life , but like the ingratefull Israelites , desire to Continue at their former Flesh-pots , in making Brick and Clay under hard taskmasters , in the Egipt of this sinfull world , and so keepe from the Canaan of neuer-decaying happinesse ?

Is it not madnesse in desiring Long life to refuse Eternall life ? Shall wee be such cowards to feare a shadow ? the seperation of the Soule from God onely indeed is Death , the seperation of the Soule from the Body is but the shadow of Death . Shall we bee such fooles to seeke to shun that which neuer man could scape ? Shall we bee so faint-hearted to feare a thing so common and certaine ? Was euer poore Labourer sorie after his painefull dayes worke to repose himselfe in sleepe ? Shall wee then ouerlaboured by a toilesome life grudge to goe to our sweet , long and Care-ending sleepe ? Shall wee desire still to bee in our Nonage , and not like heires of Eternity , receiue our euerlasting Inheritance ? Our life is a Banishment from the heauenly Ierusalem ; shall wee bee grieued by Death to returne from Exile ? Why feare wee Death which is but the Funerall of our Vices , the resurrection of our Graces , and the day wherein God payes us our wages . Life is neuer sweet to them that feare Death : neither can he feare any Enemy that feares not death ? Did some of the Heathen , but reading an uncertaine Discourse of Life hereafter , seeke their owne Death to come unto it ; and shall wee , certaine that there is a Life hereafter full of unspeakeable felicitie , bee affraid of the way which GOD hath ordained as a passage to it ? Death is our yeare of Iubile , and shall wee not reioyce in it ? Let euery one then ( O Lord ) who desires to bee free'd from sinning and offending thee , cry out with PAVL , I desire to bee dissolved and to bee with CHRIST .

A PRAYER Made and vsed with Companie in the aforesaid Visitation .

O Eternall GOD ! to whom by Creation wee owe our Beeing from nothing : by Sanctification of thy holy Spirit a better beeing from worse than nothing : by Redemption and Adoption a joynt Inheritance and Brother-hood with the King of Glory IESVS CHRIST , by whom wee are bold to call thee Father , neither art thou ashamed to acknowledge us Sonnes . For all thy benefits ( O Lord ) wee giue thee most humble thankes , in that it hath pleased thee to preserue us to this time from the dangers of Hell and Death : but especially ( O good Lord ) that thou hast giuen us a sence and feeling of our owne sinnes and misery , so that wee may call for Mercy before wee goe into the Graue and bee seene no more : Wee most humbly and upon the Knees of our soules doe thanke thee ( O Lord ! ) that in this thy great Visitation , this great Assizes of thine , this fearefull Plague wherein the Graue hath swallowed up so many thousands ; that it hath pleased thee to command thy raging Minister the Destroying Angell but gently to touch us , with an Arrow that was not pointed with Death , as if hee had sayd to us : Goe away Sinne no more lest a worse thing fall upon you . Wee confesse ( O Lord ) that our sinnes deserued equally , yea more than theirs , whom thou hast taken away , and yet ( O Lord ) wee still remaine to praise thy Name in the land of the Living . Which if thou doest continue ( O Lord ) thou hast ingaged us to a sodaine and speedy newnesse of life , with true Contrition for our former most haynous sinnes , and a living in Holinesse and Righteousnesse all the dayes of our life . But if so bee this bee but a gleame of thy mercy to trie our Faith and Constancy , and that thou hast ordained at this time to make an end of our liues most wretched Pilgrimage , thy will bee done ( O Lord. ) But ô speake Peace unto our Soules that they need not tremble at this great Seperation . O Lord , wee know Death is but a shadow , and the feare of it more terrible than it selfe . Let neither the ouglinesse of it nor of our sinnes distract our mindes when they haue most need to bee busie in obtaining thy grant of a better life . Blot out all our offences ( O Lord ) and the manifold sinnes of our youths , make them ( O Lord ) though they bee red as Scarlet , yet , as White as the wooll of thy immaculate Lambe CHRIST IESVS . Wash them ( O Lord ) in his Blood and by his wounds let us bee healed from the stinking sores and ulcers of putrified and festred Sinne : So that ( O Lord ) we may smile at Death and embrace the very terrour of it . Repell ( O Lord ) the Divell and all his ministers , who in these times of affliction are most ready to lay before our weake soules a large Catalogue and bill of our most haynous offences , telling us that thou art a just GOD , and wilt not heare the prayers of such great offenders : but ( O Lord ) there is Mercy with thee that thou mayest bee feared ; yea , that thou mayest bee loued . Grant ( O Lord ) that though wee be euen swallowed vp of death and desperation , yet wee may lay hold upon the precious Merits of thy deare Sonne and our loving Saviour , so that either in life or death , wee may crie with a true Faith and Comfort . Come Lord IESVS , come quickly . To whom with thee the Father and the Holy Ghost bee all honour and glory , now and ever . AMEN .

A Vale to his best Part. DId not Religion controll I would say ; Farewell my Soule , But so much as may depart , Farewell , I say , my soule and heart ! Since from thee I 'me forc'd to flie I 'le enter no meane Heresie , But will thinke it may agree A Body without Soule , that 's thee : Thou hast my soule ( and so behau'd ) I am in hope it may bee sau'd : My heart 's in thee , or mee , or both , And yet if seperate , I am loth Thou hast not all , know for thy part , I am a niggard of my heart . Farewell I say , and though 't is paine To say this word , Farewell againe , Farewell , yea so that thou may'st liue A thousand Vales I will giue . That this Vale true appeare Take a Farewell , and a Teare , From thy A. H.
Abraham Holland , Hauing made many EPITAPHS for others , made this Epitaph for himselfe , and on his Death bed , dictated it to his Brother , H. H. PAssenger that wilt bestow So much time to read this , know , Here 's one a lasting sleepe doth take Till Christs Trumpet bid him wake : This is that Gole whereto the man That lyeth here interred ran , This the Race-end , to which at most , Jt can be said that hee rode Post. Let Him sleepe quiet , and doe Thou Leaue Sinne , not by and by , but now , Delay not houres which swiftly glide As a full Torrent or quicke Tide . Knowing thus much , good Christian , passe , But with this Thought , I am , He was . Denatus 18. Februarij , 1625.

Vnto these Post-humes is added :

NAVMACHJA .

OR , A POETICALL DESCRIPTION OF the cruell and bloudie Sea-fight or Battaile of LEPANTO : ( Most memorable . )

BY ABRAHAM HOLLAND .

Revised by the Author , and now againe Published .

Printed for HEN: HOLLAND . M.DC.XXVI .

TO THE READER , that asketh , what , when , and where , was this Battaile of LEPANTO ?

IN the yeare of CHRIST IESVS , 1571. His open Arch-Enemie the Great Turke , having had many Victories by Land in sundry Nations , as well in subduing whole Countries as in taking many strong Cities and Castles from the Christians , which confined neere his Territories , enforcing the Christians either to renounce their holy Faith , or to endure unspeakeable Slavery themselues , their Wiues and Children , beeing daily bought and solde in open Markets , like Horses , Oxen , and Asses .

The Turke by this time had Conquered many Ilands and Cities bordering upon the Sea : by meanes whereof hee was greatly enriched and strengthened with Gallies and other maine Forces . And in this yeare , 1571. knowing a Division amongst divers Christian Princes , as well for matters of Religion as for affaires of State : Vpon hope of which advantage , hee assembled and furnished a mightie Armie of Gallies , presuming thereby to become Soveraigne of the Sea , and Lord of the Land , at one instant .

But such was the great Mercy of Almightie GOD that he stirred up the hearts of many Christian Princes , ( the Queene of Englands ayde beeing not wanting ) who conjoyned together , and furnished a very strong defensible Navie of Ships , Gallies , and Galliasses : And encountred with the Turkes at Lepanto ( which lyeth in part of Albania in Turkie : ) And at the time of Battaile , the Winde changed on the Turkes side , and came on the backe of the Christian Navie , and carried the smoke of all their Shot upon the Turkes Gallies , Foists , and Brigandines : so as they could not well see how to defend themselues or offend their Enemies : which the Christians well observing , with all religious Resolution , right brauely gaue Charge and chase upon the Miscreants ; and sunke and tooke of Turkish Gallies full Two hundred and thirtie , and at that Fight slew aboue Thirtie thousand Mahometists , besides a great number of Prisoners taken by the Christians : and aboue Twelue thousand redeemed by force from Turkish-slauerie . In this blessed Victorie , the Christians lost not aboue seven or eight Gallies , nor of them aboue Eight thousand persons slaine .

This Overthrow to CHRISTS Enemies was done , the Sixt day of October , 1571.

And the Ninth of November following , amongst other Christian Princes the Newes being brought over land to Queene ELIZABETH ( of ever blessed and immortall memory . ) Shee commanded the Citizens of London , to giue Almightie GOD humble and heartie thankes , Her Sacred selfe performing the same : The Londoners also made Bonfires , and showed other pleasant signes of rejoycing .

Now followeth the Patheticall-poeticall Description of the same :

Vale. H. H.
NAVMACHIA , Or the Poeticall Description of a Bloody Sea-fight . AS the Sun once lift vp his burning Lampe On top of hils , and fiery steeds gan stampe Along the blew-floor'd skie , the Charriotier Made his firce horses run a full Carreir : He whipt 'em on , so that their blood there shed , Made the cleare Balcon of the East looke red . He posted on as if he meant not stay To make a Summer , but a winters day : Or as if he had wager'd that his teame , Sooner than wont should souze in western streame : The steeds themselues with speed vnvsuall flie , As frighted at this sea-bred Prodigie . There came along cutting deepe Neptunes brow , A misty masse , to call 't I know nor how : Whether a running Towne , or wauing Wood , Or moouing Delos tumbling on the Flood . Which seene a farre scud on the watry way , Prodigious Affrick seemd , or Asia . Who getting Neptunes Pas-port , came to see Their Sister Europe in her brauery . At whose approch the curled billowes rore , And as it comes fearefully roll before . Th' oppressed tower-like Whales lie bellowing vnder , That Neptune seemes t' vsurpe his brothers thunder . The silent Fish presaging future bloud , Against their kind run frighted into th' mud : And had they wings , would from the Sea haue broken , And but for churlish nature would haue spoken To manifest their feare , yet what they might , They fled apace to shun the dreadfull sight . And flying from the Sea in trembling shiuers , With their thicke sholes pester'd the lesser riuers . The Oceans King feeling such weight on 's backe , With leaning on his Trident made it cracke . Had it not been immooveable , they say , The earth this time would faine haue fled away . Th' amazed shore as the fleet neere sounds , Almost forgot to keep 's ordained bounds . The earth and shore so trembling , you 'd ha sayd , Feare , not inclosed winds , this Earth-quake made . Fame with her feet on earth , and head i' th' spheares , With wings plum'd full of wonderment and feares , Flies ore the land , and forth her rumours blazes , And with increasing dire reports amazes . The stoutest courages still as she goes , Sh'augments the power and valour of the foes . Tel's of strange engines , instruments , and whips , Framed to act their cruelty , and ships Prodigious bigge , vizards , and murthering Kniues , Butcherly malls for slaughter , Halters , Giues , And all the men like Giants : Thus she flies Increasing still the Terrour , and with lies Makes a true feare : and ere it was well spide , She sweares the fleet in such a place did ride . And all the men were landed : such a towne , Was battered , and such a castle downe . Another Citty without doubt was ta'ne , And at the winning of it , more men slaine Then it contain'd : Thus monstrous Fame doth range her , And maketh feare more fearefull then the danger . And thus as Fame her flying terrour doubles , Each diuers state is wract with diuers troubles . Great men doe feare that they here-by shall fall , Which the poore man doth hope to rise withall . The peaceable do hereby feare annoyment , The needy Ding-thrift hereby hopes imployment . The Coward this way feareth he shall die : The valiant looke for immortality . The louing Wife doth feare her Husbands life , And he as much is troubled for his Wife . Stout old men wish that they were young againe , Base young men wish that they in age were ta'ne : Women for feare weepe out their tender eyes , Dumbe Infants almost answer to their cryes . In all the disagreement , which is here , They all agree in this , that all doe feare . The Beacons now were fir'd : as if the flame Euen here a contrarity did claime Against the water , whose prodigious light , Men feard on land , as in a stormy night The Sailers feare Orion , which but seene , Pronounces vnto Mariners , the teene Of angry clouds . And now those noble Spirits , Whose onely ayme is by their haughty merits To out-liue fate , and for their Countries good Thinke it a glory to powre forth their blood , Meete all together , as deuote to giue Their owne liues that their Countrymen may liue , Thus in all ages , and we still may trie Of life the worthi'st , readiest are to die . Who hasting to their ships in speed , begin To shew the aduerse party should not win Without resistance , shewing there were made Men as well to defend as to invade . Our Admirall breath 's forth a stout All-arme , The aduerse fleet Ecchoed rebounding , Arme. As when by sound of hollow brasse , or tin The scatterd bees , buzzing with murmurous din , Throng in one heape , to some well-branched tree , Leauing their sweet , and harmelesse the every ; And so by craft betray'd , are in a trice Captiu'd all in their narrow Edifice . Thus at their Captaines voice , the vulgar sort To their assigned stations resort ▪ With quicke confused hast the tumult 's led , And speed , by too much speed , is hindered , All to their charge with trembling boldnes run , With quaking hand one charges first his Gun , Another girds his threatning sword on 's side ; Some clasps their steelie Helmets ; sheilds are tied On trembling armes apace , that one might then Haue thought th' had been all mouing Iron men . And now the Martiall steely-pointed staues Were snatch't in hast : the heauy murdring Glaues : Bowes bent to slaughter : weighty Courtelaxe : And Darts Death's Harbingers ; the black bill , axe . And other armes which before rusting stood , But now are brought forth to be skour'd with blood . Our saile-wing'd fleet launcheth fro'th'shore now eased Of it's dread burden , nor was th' earth more pleased To see from her one hideous terrour past , That grieu'd to see another come as fast . One might haue thought the battell was begun To see how Neptune first was thorough run , How the sterne brasse his curled forehead tore , And trembling waues were strucke by cruell oare . Each Fleet the Captaines had deuided soone , Into the formes of the halfe-circled Moone ; But as their furious hornes together met , These two halfe-moones a full Moone did beget ; Which like to that in Heauen , as it did goe , Made the fleet waters strangely Ebbe and Flow. Now as with proud aduance they neerer came , Those beasts which gaue the saile-rul'd vessels name , With an aspect more grim than is their life , As breathing nought but bate , and balefull strife , Come fiercely forward all , as if from thence They meant to moue their painted Residence . The Lyon , Elephant , and sauage Hogge , The Libard , Tygre , Ounce , and cruell Dogge Sternely affront each other , one might guesse In midst of Sea a sauage Wildernesse , Wherein with admiration , one might see So many a fierce wild beast , so many a Tree . But now our valiant Generall traversing About the fleet encourag'd them , rehearsing This speech , wherein he brauely did exhort To th' Fight , which ready cut th' Oration short . Courage braue friends , and that is all I pray , Strength cannot want , where Courage leads the way , But what need I th' vndaunted hearts excite , Of them whose eies me thinks already fight ; Looke as ye doe , and ye shall neuer need Weapons , or hands to make your foes to bleed . Your look's shall strike'em dead , and warlike sight Shall put your fearefull enemies to flight . What ere ye aime at , heere before you lie , Honour , Reuenge , Spoile , Riches , Victorie : Which if they mooue not , see your Natiue Land , Your Nurse , your Mother , see how she doth stand A farre to marke , which of you best shall render The Meed of Nurture , who shall best defend her , Them will she honour ; brauely then driue backe This vast Sea-monster , which is come to racke Your Nursses entrailes , com't but once to Land , The very Earth will be affraid to stand It 's cruell brunt , whither if reach it can , The blood and teares will make an Ocean Deeper than this : I see 'em now repaire ( O let my Omen vanish into aire . ) Vnto our Land ; see how like Wolues they rage About the coasts , sparing nor sex , nor age . See how they pull strong wals of Citties downe , Leauing the men as naked as the Towne . They raze your sacred Temples , and not leaue A hallowed place , where after ye may heaue Your hands for aide to heav'n : Your Altars frames , These wicked wretches , with prophaned flames Sacrifice to their anger ; yea they dare To open Ghostly Tomb's , and thence lay bare Your Ancestors sad Coffins : whose dead ashes In stead of teares , their Childrens blood be-dashes . They dragge our ancient Parents vnto slaughter , Answering their dying grones with cruell laughter . Our younger Wiues and Sisters they deflour , And basel● make our neerest kinsmen , our Most hated foes ; our tender infants rawle Scarce borne , being borne vnto their funerall . These things , which , heav'n be thank't , I but suppose , Vnlesse yee helpe will once aduance our foes . Say that our Nauy be farre lesse than theirs , Haue not great ships , amids their swift carriers Beene staid by little Remoraes : Then on , And let not this cold Element , whereon We are to fight , quench those couragious flames Which burne in euery manly brest , that aimes At immortality , but strike so sterne , That the dumbe fishes may heereafter learne To speake your praises , and each waue report Vnto it's neighbour , in how valiant sort Ye fought , till that the Oceans vtmost bound , And farthest Thule with your fame shall sound : Yea that the Sun , when he at night shall presse This way , may goe and tell th' Antipodes What acts he saw ; nor yet of ayd despaire , The Sea it selfe , if need shall aske , will spare A thousand of his streaming arm 's for you , All fish prooue sword-fish to fight for our due . Thinke for no refuge heere to flie , your hand Not feet must bring you backe againe to land : No longer will the time with vs dispence , What my speech wants , my sword shall recompence . Now 'twixt a thousand liues , a thousand death 's Of time one little winged minute breath 's The loud-mouth'd Gun , onely expects the fire , At touch of which , as burnt , it should expire It 's skrieking voice , groning that so much death Should be accomplish't by th' infectious breath Of it's dire mouth ; Darts ready are to part To hide their heads in some ill fortun'd hart . Arrowes , and Muskets leuel'd , seeme to kill , Before they can in act , in fierie will . One might haue thought viewing this fearefull sight , 'T had bin the picture of a Navall Fight . But harke th' amazing signes of battell sound , Making the lands remote , and rockes rebound : The shrill voic't Trumpet and couragious drum , In barbarous language bid the foes to come . Death's horrid vizar now begins t' appeare , In their pale faces ; terrour , and gastly feare In their amazed hearts doth panting rise , And future blood bath's in their fiery eyes . Sterne Cruelty aduanceth in their lids , With headlong fury stalking in the mids : Apelles present here or one so skil'd , Might haue made pictures hence that would haue kil'd . The thundring Ord'nance now began to rent Th' amazed aire , the flames before it sent , Seeme lightning , and as deadly bullets flie : Prodigious haile seem'd to powre downe the skie , Smoake made a clowdy mist , and all together Seeme on the sea to make tempestuous weather . To call for ayd here , stands as much in stead , As in that place , when from a doubtfull head . The seauen-mouth'd Nilus , with a desperate shocke , Headlong doth tumble from th' amazed rock ; Making the people on the neighbouring shelues , That hearing him , they cannot heare themselues ; Thus the fights noyse made many a man to fall In troublous death , a silent Funerall . Alas those Elements which vse t' vp hold Our crazy liues , with their iust heate , and cold , Making compact our bodies constitution , Striue now to cause it 's vtter dissolution The quicke and piercing fire , as it doth burne Their wofull carkasses , doth freezing turne Their minds to quaking feare , and I hill despaire , The liquid , flitting , and all-searching aire Admitts remorsles shot , and murdring darts Denying breath at last to coole their harts . The theevish water though it ran away With suttle shifts , did notwithstanding slay And swallow most , with a deuouring flood , Onely poore earth , starke , still , astonished stood . Who viewing this would not haue thought a wonder That without raine , wind , lightning , haile , or thunder Or hidden shelues , or rocks sea-ambusht back Or any temrest , ships should suffer wrack ? That one might heere haue term'd it , choose you whether A strong Calme , or calme tempestuous wether . See winged arrowes posting through the skie How quicke they hast froth ' battells rage to flie The trembling speares , as souldiers doe them shake , Seeme at their Maisters dangrs that they quake : The flashing swords , which sheathed once they ware , Seeme now to feare , being vnarm'd and bare . But now each fleet , each ship with hope-full pride Clash altogether , furious , side to side . As when two winds in blacke tempestuous wether , With boistrous wings impetuous meete together With their vntamed and resistles iustle , Making high turrets shake , and cedars rustle , Where in light shirmish they remaine contending , Till out of breath th' are faine to make an ending Now death 's at hand , and night together keepe Cleare life , and dreadfull death's blacke iron sleepe , Fierce rage , sad griefe , blind Fury now grow higher , Good cause when sence of touch and hearing nigher Men now with men contend , and ships with ships , One body 'gainst another ; here one skips Into his enemies deck , but beaten back He leaps to 's owne , of which if so he lacke , He fall's in sea ; much like a wave , whose head By vrging winds vnto the shore is led , And thence by brest of the oft-drowned shore Taking a blunt repulse , for spight doth rore , And staggering runs backe ; and is this all Ambition aymes at , in the way to fall ? Their tired sences labour'd in such wise , That they grew dull with too much excercise Their troubled eyes , viewing such gastly sights , Wisht that sad darkenesse cancell'd all their hights ▪ That horrid noise the battell made , was such , Hearing heard nothing , ' cavse it heard so much Tast is of death , ranke blod pollutes the smell , What feeling felt they all did feele too well . Such a confusion racks their senses here Th' had Reason now to wish they sencelesse were . Grim death in purple , stalkes vpon the hatches , With pale and griesly lookes see how he snatches Hundreds a once vnto him , till the dreary Lean-face't ill-favord Death of death grew weary . See on the sea how thousand Bodies float From their great ships hasting to Charons Boat , Which crabbed Skuller now might thinke it meet His old-torne Boate should be new-chang'd a Fleet. The tumults noise pierc't the blew-arched skie The chrystall Aire fill'd with a deadly crie , Onely in this was blest , as blowes abounded , It could be euer cut , yet neuer wounded . The silent Earth glad that shee was debarr'd From this sad Fight , yet inwardly was heard The dreadfull strokes rebounding loud , to mone And Eccho made her yeeld a hollow grone , But this cause chiefly made her most to raue , That to her due the sea should prooue a graue . Neuer did strong-breath't Aeolus disturbe The sea so much , When he can hardly curbe His madding pages , when they raging muster To quarrell with the waues , or whistling bluster Among the well-set trees , and branched bowgh's Singing through chinks of some decayd house : Nor sterne Orion with his stormy light Appalling shipmen , doth so much affright The soone moov'd sea , as did this battels noise , Which Neptune answer'd with his bellowing voice , Who as the Fleet 's vrg'd neerer to the strand Which tumbling pace , ran frighted vp the sand , That had not bounds restrain'd his element , His watery vaile had cloth'd the Continent . The fearefull winds on th' Ocean durst not rome , But least they should be smother'd kert at home . And there sat sighing : Clouds their rane doe keepe , Though ready at the battells sight to weepe , Least their pure drops with gore-blood should be staind So that no winds blew , nor from heauen it rain'd ; Maruaile not yet at tempests on the flood So many teares stream'd , and such streames of blood , Nor without winds are waues to be admir'd , So many grones and dyings brea'ths expir'd . The Oceans skaly , silent wandring nation Seeing pale armed troups inuade the station Of their vast kingdome , downe the sanguine flood Fearefully glide , fearing their future food . The tender Nymph's who with their siluer feete Vse on the plaines of crisped Thetys meete , Where tripping prettely th' are wont to dance Themselues , into a heauenly slwmbring trance Of sweet repose , at these inhumane shocks With haire all torne creepe into th' hollow rockes Wher shrouded they to meditate began , No rocke so flinty as the heart of man , The rocks though alwaies struck by waters fury , The rockes yet patient beare this iniury ; Yea Thetis selfe whose woombe enriched bare That fearefull Thunder of the Troian war Stubborne Achilles , who in fight did win Such glory , wisht that warr 's had neuer bin . So she , with all her trembling watery peers Augment the brinish sea , with brinish teares . Ships now begin to burne , that one might see Neptunes and Vulcans consangunity Yea now these ships , which free from water stood , Strangly begin to sinke with humane blood , Which as from thence with fearefull gush it ran , Fill'd vp the wrinkles of the Ocean , Making with purpose gastly gored hue , Of one Red sea which was before , now two : Which sea so full of Dead , it hence might come Well to be called , Mare Mortuum . The quaking ships with murmuring guns are rent , Whose wounded sides the gored streames doe vent Of dead and wounded men , who lay therein , As if they had their Beeres or coffin's bin : They lay therein and as the ships did goe Seem'd bloody , bloodles , dead , and mooving too . The furious fire with flames doth vndermine The towring Mast , made of the lofty Pine , So that same tree which oft hight's Nuptiall's , Now Cypresse-like doth burne at Funerall's . And eaten by the galling flames , at last Fall's downe the huge , high , heauy weighted Mast , And as great things are wont , fell not alone Killing a troupe nor of it's foes , but owne . The tacklings , sail 's , and cables now doe burne , And fire casts Anchors , neuer to returne . About their eares the whistling bullets sung , And wandring wild-fire made th' affrighted throng Croud into corners speedily , and they That durst stand men , to sensles fire giue way . As when with in the fat Trinacrian soile , Inflamed Aetna doth begin to boile , When nak't Pyracmon , with his round-ey'd fellowes , Sweatinh heaue vp their huge strong-breathed bellowes , Thundring vpon their steeled Anviles top To furnish armour for their smoaky shop ; Their pondrous hammers , and redoubling , makes Enceladus belch out his sulph'ry flakes Of veng-full wrath , then may you see blacke smoke Vomiring out , wrapt , in a pitchy cloke , And the hard bowels of the mountaine , torne By setter'd fire , with a strange bounding borne Vp to the cloulds , whose fearefull fall to shun , The neighbouring people with a maz'ment , run To shroudin'g Dens , hiding them closely vnder , Fearing from high , and from below a thunder . Then did th' inhumane battels fury rage , Nor could the sea th' increasing flames asswage . And Mars himselfe , in Adamantine armes , With a hoarse voice rores out against all-armes . He that would now haue travailed to hell , Might haue seene weary sweating Charon well In feruent labour , with his mossy oares Tugging pale shaddowes to th' ore-swarmed shores ; Which on the bancks as they lamenting crept , Wailing Cocytus in compassion wept . Acheron flow'd with griefe , and as they say , Lethe it selfe could neuer forget this day , The Furies whin'd , by Plutoes Iudgement cast , Who sware their rage was farre by men surpast , One coming heere might tired Clotho spie , How she could searse her weary arm 's apply To turne the wheele ; and Lachesis repine Who sware she could not threds of mortalls twine So fast as they were cut ; you might haue seene Atropos raging with remorsles teene And seeking each where for some greetty stone To whet her sheeres , whose edge was dulled growne With too much cutting of their fatall thread , Whose haples liues this gastfull battell shed . Fire now and water did not each contend , But seeme their power so mutually to lend , That at this time there many a one became Burn't in the sea and drowned in the flame . This one good hap to carkasses did fall , Th' had fire to burn 'em at their funerall . The mangled ships not fearing to be drencht , Gladly take breaches , thereby to be quencht . But now thou Tisiphonc , infernall Muse Rouzing thy selfe from Stygian sleepe , peruse The various Images of dreary Fate Hapning in this sad Fight , and Intimate Them to my mind , which well , I thinke , agree , Not with a sweete , and heauenly Muse , but thee . Th' Industrious Pilot sitting at the sterne , Where in a little card , he can discerne The vast vncertainetie of Neptunes haunt Ruling swift ships by powerfull Adamant , Here as he sits retir'd , and watchfull minds The frequent change of two and thirty winds Comes an vnruly shot , and him doth force To certaine death , change his vncertaine course , So he that wont stern blasts in truce to bind , Could not foresee when he should loose his wind , From stormes , and Mists of Death he could not free Himselfe , who wont the Tempests curbe , but he Who bearding Neptune , vs'd on th' Ocean float , Is now controll'd in Charons little boat . The Master ranging vp and downe the Deck , And wounded mortally , to him doth beck His Mate , who hasting to his ayd in vaine Is there together with the Maister slaine , And at once ended with him his liues Date , Proouing himselfe truely the Masters Mate . The Trumpetter , with braue reuiuing sound Quickning their dying harts , is fell'd ●oth ' ground , And as in 's mouth he still the brasse did wield , His dying breath made it a dead march yeeld , And hauing lent his Trumpet so much breath In 's life , it turn'd him some againe at 's death . The Drummer with his nimble hand repeating His doubled blowes , without compassion beating His harmlesse drum , which seem'd with groning cry To murmur at his Maisters cruelty , Sodenly two rash bullets rudely come Tearing both skin of drumer , and the Drum , Drummer of life , of sound the Drum 's bereft : So Drum , and Drummer both are speechles left . The Gunner as with nimble hast he runs To fire his seldome-vaine-reporting Guns , His head a leaden-winged bullet hits And his hard braine-pan into peeces splits , He of a thousand this alone might vaunt , That of his death he was not ignorant , And this true riddle might of him abide , He liued once by 's Death , by 's life now dide . Here comes a Captaine , with vndaunted face , Encouraging his souldiers to the Chace , And being about to say , be braue and bold , An vntaught bullet rudely bids him hold , And as death's mist in his dull eyes did wander , Beseeching ayd he left to be commander , And he whose voice from fainting thought to call them , By 's dying grone doth fearefully apall them : This leader faithfull to his vtmost breath Can onely now lead them the way to Death . See how to steale the wauing flagg , one climbs Vp by the cards , but being espied betimes Tangled i' th' ropes , he is of life bereft , And so is hang'd for his intended Theft . But the cords burnt wherin his leggs were bound , He gets a Pirats death both hang'd and drown'd . Some vnder hatches closed , in despaire Mount vp their foes with powder into the aire , Which done it seem'd a strange prodigious sight A troupe of armed men to maske the light : It seemeth yet that they no damage meant 'em , Who the next way vp into heauen sent 'em Making them flie , beyond Dae'dalian skill , In the vast aire , without a winged quill , Giuing to them a strange vnwonted death , Who hauing aire too much yet wanted breath . See see the lot of sad Mortality , Our chiefest help 's , helpe oft to Miserie , Some men who came secure from future harmes Inroll'd in well-proou'd steely clothed armes . Fall by mischance into the sea 's dire hand , Whence being vnarm'd they might haue swom to land : Their armes doe sinke , and without mercy end 'em So kill'd by that which chiefly should defend 'em . One with his Musket ready to giue fire Aymes at another aduerse Muskettier , But his match missing fire , hee 's forc't to die By the others matches true fidelity , By which he di'de , can scarc'ly well be knowne , Whether by th' others Musket or his owne . See there a Coward wanting heart t' abide The daunting face of the fierce aduerse side , Slinketh behind the next , not caring whither , Comes a mad shot , and kill 's 'em both together ; Praise him in this , for though his life outdar'd him To equall th' other , yet his death compar'd him . Neuertheles if truly ye doe mind him , As in his life , in 's death he came behind him . One seeming now his side begin to faile Shew's them their colours , while himselfe lookes pale , Sure by this man some Omen ill was showne , To keepe their colours , who could loose his owne . Those men who chanced in the ships to fall The cruell sea was made their buirall . And into th' waues without remorse were throwne , Poore men , slaine by their foes , drownd by their owne . A Fisherman who nigh them cut the Maine Sitting in 's boate was with a bullet slaine , And the barke fir'd wherein he dead did fall . Which gratis , burnt , gaue him his Funerall True to thy Maister , kind boat , who with him Didst oft in life , and now in death do'st swim With him aliue in water that didst tire Thy waue-beat sides , dy'st now with him in fire . Yet me thinks thou shouldest not deserue this turne Who so oft plung'd with him which shouldest burne , Yet saile with him t' Elysium , saile the faster , In Carons stead that thou maist waft thy Maister , Strang Boat which thus we not amisse may call . His Life , Death , Charon and his Funerall . A Noble man that was a Renegate , While he against his King doth boldly prate , A shot takes off his head , as if t were reason That he should be beheaded for his Treason . A baser fellow while he dares complaine And raile against his once owne Soveraigne , A true Liege-man , as he thus boldly brags , Striketh him vp , and his vile body drags About the ship , and while he vainely begs , Remosles cutteth off his armes and legs , And thinking then to throw him in the tide Hee 's caught vpon an Anchor on the side , That one beholding rightly might haue sed , He iustly was hang'd , drawne , and quartered . Some fearing swords , into the sea doe flie , And so for feare of death , feare not to die . Some fall into the Ocean stain'd with gore , Which from their former wounds had gusht before , Which kill'd not them , as it from them was spil'd , But entring into them againe , th' are kil'd . Heeres one about to strike , his foe doth fall Into the sea , before he can recall His erring stroke , striking the sea to stay him , The Ocean in revenge o' th blow doth slay him . One fearing death doth faine to die and bleed , And while he is in faining , dies indeed . Another being about to strike his foe Looseth at once his arme and threatning blow : His left arme shiuering , reaches at the other , But cut atwaine , lies with it's equall Brother , Both ioyn'd , though both devided , as in spight Of Death , they meant to part their last good-night , By shaking hands : the miserable truncke As loth to part , fainting vpon them sunke . One seeing them together thus , might say , There a whole bodie , all in peeces lay . See two with sturdy grapple , striuing whether Should overcome , both fall in sea together ; Embracing both till they haue lost their breath , And seeme though foes in life , yet friends in death . Two brothers slaine , as they together stood , One then might sweare , they were allied in blood . Other two , who so nigh resembling , were A lov'd mistake vnto the parents deare , ( Cruell death sever'd them ) and that one left Poore parents knew , of errour now bereft : He left eternall cause of griefe renowes , Who still aliue , still his dead brother shew's : And yet to them this comfort still he giues , Th' one cannot die , so long as th' other liues . The wounded souldiers , now that all else failes , To stop their wounds , doe teare their woful sailes : Poore men who after they were overthrowne Had torne those wings , wherby they might haue flown . One with his bleeding ready to expire , Thinks with his blood , to quench the ship on fire : And so in mids of flames he bleeding stands , Tearing new wounds with his kind cruell hands . And grieu'd to see his blood so little profit , He oft adds teares to helpe the quenching of it , Till at last fainting he is faine to fall , Into the sea , which made his Funerall : And bleeding in it from each mangled lim , He quenched it , and it extinguish't him . See a poore wretch with both armes cut asunder , Distracted leapt into the water vnder Meaning to swim , but see the wofull wretch With how much toile he laboureth to stretch His raw-veind stumps , which for his armes before Gush nothing now , but streames of deadly gore : Faine would he catch t' vphold his wavering life Some kind remaine o' th ship , but all his strife Doth make him sooner to be out of breath , And wanting armes he yet embraces death . One getteth this , by hauing lost his eies , In that he cannot see his miseries , Anothers legges are gone , that who him sees Might thinke he did begge pardon on his knees . What refuge now is left ? when if they shun Th' approaching sword , into the fire they run : Shunning the fire , they into waterfall , So no way wants a certaine Funerall . Thus after strange vnheard of sort they lie , And death , by many deaths , makes one man die . The mangled ships no longer can with stand Th' intruding sea , and Mars his fiery brand ; But sinking downward one might then haue thought Them gone t' helpe Charon to waft ore his fraught . The conquer'd fleet prickt now with desperate stings Of horror , wish their army did of wings Onely consist ; but now as if it stood Tyed with fast anchors to the stubborne flood Mooues not away , but void of all instruction , Venter their owne , to hasten the destruction Of their once Maisters , who into corners creepe , As among Wolues , a flocke of trembling sheepe . Much like a silly Doue , whose broken wing Hath tried the Talons of the aiery King , And lieth panting on the bloody ground Striving to flie from 's enemies rebound . Alas poore bird , it wants that winged oare Which should it's wonted scape to it restore : And so at length with silent patience crouching , It 's made a prey to the fierce bird encroching . Thus fleet and bird lie i' th same wofull plight , Whose onely wish is to be put to flight . The Sunne no longer could endure to see 'Mongst humane men such inhumanity : Therefore his Horses , bathing in their fome , With posting speed hast to their watrie home . Where yet a while they all amazed stood , Finding in stead of Sea , a Sea of Blood . FINIS .
H. H. Authoris Fratis majoris ( cujus cura ac impensa haec praemissa Posthuma edita sunt , ) CHARACTER . SI quis praenomen cupiat cognoscere nostrum , HENRICI nomen Nympha Secrata dedit . Jnque tuo MICHAEL festo , sum natus & ortus , Septemb. 1583 Christiadis sumpsi nomen in Aede tua . Jlla luce mihi dil●●ta adjungitur Vxor Septemb. 1615 Cognovi socium nocte priore thorum . Hi● MICHAEL Magnus Princeps pessundabit omnes Papicolas istis Tart●ra tetra patent . Dei Pater Omnipotens , famulo mihi posse beatum Sortiri in Coelo , cum MICHAELE Locum .
Aliud , CHARACTER ACROSTICON , vice EPITAPHIj . Hic , mihi ne totum delerent Funera Nomen , Ostendam vitae rem , Lo●a , Nomen , Avos . Laude vigent patres , vid●t COVENTRIA natum , Luce novâ : HENRICVM nomine signat aqua . A patriae gr●mio , LONDINVM exc●pit adultum , Anno , 1599. N ●●rit idem : C●ara cum Pare Liber ago : Divi●ico● est verbum : Mihi Roma perosa : Vita quidem ten●is , sit mihi grata tamen Solaque post Mortem Coelestia dona supersins . Mihi Roma perosa . FINIS .

Page 80. l. 4. ( a ) Plus male facta nocent quam benedicta decent : praedicat viva voce qui praedicat vita & voce . Ib. p. l. 30. ( b ) Nemesis pedes habet : Lips . de Constant . & tarditatem judicii gravitate supplicii compenset .

Page 81. l. 12. ( a ) Ecles . 7.18 . Qui dicunt ne appropinq●es mihi quia immundus es . Es. 65.5 . Ib. p. l. 23. ( b ) Va vobis derisoribus , cum venerit dies judicii & aperti fuerint libri conscientiarum : Cum dicetur vobis , ecce hos puritatis derisores & impura eorum opera . Quid facietis tunc , cum Caeli re ve labunt iniquitates vestras & terra adversus vos consurget . Ib. p. l. 29. ( c ) Dicunt non faciunt hoc magnum Crimen habetur . In linguis , pietas pectore nulla manet .

Page 82. l. 9. ( a ) Mallet Deus multos : nocentes condonare quam unum innocentem condemnare . Ib. p. l. 19. ( b ) Vnguentum est unguentum itsi vultures defugiant . Theod.

Page 84. l. 3. ( a ) Quam bent te ambitio mersit vanissima ventus & tumidos tumidae vos superastis aquae . Quam bene totius raptores orbis avaros . Hausit inexhausto justa vorago maris . Theod. Be●a in Psal. 27.2.124.3.6 . Psal. 21.11 .

Page 85. l. 14. ( a ) Job 4.8 . Psal. 27.2 . Non est la● aequior ulla , Quam necis artifices arte perire suâ . Ib. page 17. ( b ) Anno 1602. in Londino de plaga . 38244. Consumptis tot peste viris , tot peste puellis , vix habuit nobis tum nova plaga locum .

Ibid. page l. 21. Antigones rex amicis sun dentibus , ut si Athenas caperet , firmis eas & validis muniret praesidiis . Nullum inquit scio praesidium firmius aut stabilius , quam civium benevolentiam . Sic Periander summâ ope commitendum esse dixit iis , qui into regnare vellent ut benevolentia potius quam armis stiparentur . 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , Sola benevolentia subditorum firmisissima est regis custodia . Synesius .

Errata .

IN the Eipistle to all the afflicted , page ● . line 5. for of , read and. Ib. p. l. 11. Maccheus . 2. p. Of the Subject , l. 25. leave out still . p. 3. l. 29. steams . p. 4. l. 7. this . p. 33. l. 5. him . p. 69 l. 25. trash . p. 79. l. 29. if .

FINIS .