The Works

The Catalogue . Euery Man in his Humor , To Mr. CAMBDEN . Euery Man out of his Humor , To the INNES of COVRT . Cynthias Reuells , To the COVRT . Poētaster , To Mr. RICH. MARTIN . Seianus , To ESME Lo. Aubigny . The Foxe , To the VNIVERSITIES . The silent Woman , To Sir FRAN. STVART . The Alchemist , To the Lady WROTH . Catiline , To the Earle of PEMBROK . Epigrammes , To the same . The Forrest , Entertaynments , Panegyre , Masques , Barriers .

Ad V. CL. BEN IONSONIVM , Carmen protrepticon . Raptam Thrëicij lyram Neanthus Pulset ; carmina circulis Palaemon Scribar ; qui manibus facit Deabus Illotis , metuat Probum . Placere Te doctis innat auribus , placere Te raris innat auribus . Camaenas Cùm totus legerem tuas ( camaenae Nam totum rogitant tuae , nec vllam Qui pigrè trabat oscitationem , Lectorem ) & Numeros , Acumen , Artem , Mirum Iudicium , quod ipse censor , Ionsoni , nimiùm licet malignus , Si doctus simùl , exigat , viderem , Sermonem & nitidum , Facetiásque Dignas Mercurio , nouásque Gnomas Morum sed veterum , tuíque iuris Quicquid Dramaticum tui legebam , Tam semper fore , támque te loquuium , Vt nec Lemnia notior sigillo Tellus , nec maculâ sacrandus Apis , Non cesto Venus , aut comis Apollo , Quàm Musâ fueris sciente notus , Quàm Musâ fueris tuá notatus , Illâ , quae vnica , sydus vt refulgens , Stricturas , superat comis , Minorum : In mentem subijt Stolonis illud , Lingua Pieridas fuisse Plauti Vsuras , Ciceronis atque dictum , Saturno genitum phrasi Platonis , Musae si Latio , Iouisque Athenis Dixissent . Fore iam sed hunc & illas IonsonI numeros puto loquutos , Anglis si fuerint vtrique fati . Tam , mi , tu sophiam doces amaenè , Sparsìm támque sophos amaena sternis ! Sed , tot delicias , minùs placebat , Sparsis distraherent tot in libellis Cerdoi caculae . Volumen vnum , Quod seri Britonum terant nepotes , Optabam , & thyasus chorúsque amantum Musas hoc cupiunt , tui laborum Et quicquid reliquum est , adhuc tuísque Seruatum pluteis . Tibi at videmur Non tàm quaerere quàm parare nobis Laudem , dum volumus palàm merentis To laurus cupidi reposta scripta ; Dum secernere te tuásque Musas Audemus numero vngulae liquorem Gustante , vt veteres nonem sorores Et sirenibus & solent cicadis ; Dum & secernere posse te videmur , Efflictìm petimus nonúmque librum , Qui nullo sacer haùt petatur aeuo , Qui nullo sacer exolescat aeuo , Qui curis niteat tuis secundis ; Vt nos scire aliquid simùl putetur . Atqui hoc macte sies , velútque calpar , Quod dijs inferium , tibi sacremus , Vt nobis benè sit , tuámque frontem Perfundant ederae recentiores Et splendor nouus . Inuident coronam Hanc tantam patriae tibique ( quantà Aeternùm à merito tuo superbum Anglorum genus esse possit olìm ) Tantùm qui penitùs volunt amaenas Sublatas literas , timéntue lucem Ionson I nimiam tenebriones . I. Selden I. C. TO BEN IONSON , on his workes . MAy I subscribe a name ? dares my bold quill Write that or good or ill , Whose frame is of that height , that , to mine eye , It s head is in the sky ? Yes . Since the most censures , beleeues , and saith By an implicit faith : Least their misfortune make them chance amisse , I 'le wast them right by this . Of all I know thou onely art the man That dares but what he can : Yet by performance showes he can do more Then hath bene done before , Or will be after . ( such assurance giues Perfection where it liues . ) Words speake thy matter ; matter fills thy words ; And choyce that grace affords That both are best : and both most fitly plac't , Are with new VENVS grac't From artfull method all in this point meet , With good to mingle sweet . These are thy lower parts . what stands aboue Who sees not yet must loue , When on the Base he reads BEN IONSONS name , And heares the rest from Fame . This from my loue of truth : which payes this due To your iust worth , not you . Ed. Heyward . Vpon SEIANVS . SO brings the wealth-contracting ieweller Pearles and deare stones , from richest shores and streames , As thy accomplisht trauaile doth confer From skill-inriched soules , their wealthyer gems ; So doth his hand enchase in ammeld gold , Cut , and adorn'd beyond their natiue merits , His solid flames , as thine hath here inrold In more then golden verse , those better'd spirits ; So he entreasures Princes cabinets , As thy wealth will their wished libraries ; So , on the throate of the rude sea , he sets His ventrous foot , for his illustrous prise : And through wild desarts , arm'd with wilder beasts , As thou aduentur'st on the multitude , Vpon the boggie , and engulfed brests Of hyrelings , sworne to find most right , most rude : And he , in stormes at sea , doth not endure , Nor in vast desarts , amongst wolues , more danger ; Then we , that would with vertue liue secure , Sustayne for her in euery vices anger . Nor is this Allegorie vniustly rackt , To this strange length : Onely , that iewells are , In estimation meerely , so exact : And thy worke , in it selfe , is deare and rare . Wherein MINERVA had beene vanquished , Had shee , by it , her sacred loomes aduanc't , And through thy subiect wouen her graphicke thred , Contending therein , to be more entranc't ; For , though thy hand was scarce addrest to draw The semi-circle of SEIANVS life , The Muse yet makes it the whole sphaere , and law To all State liues : and bounds ambition's strife . And as a little brooke creepes from his spring , With shallow tremblings , through the lowest vales , As if he fear'd his streame abroad to bring , Least prophane sect should wrong it , and rude gales ; But finding happy channels , and supplyes Of other foords mixe with his modest course , He growes a goodly riuer , and descryes The strength , that man'd him , since he left his source ; Then takes he in delight some meades , and groues , And , with his two-edg'd waters , flourishes Before great palaces , and all mens loues Build by his shores , to greet his passages : So thy chaste Muse , by vertuous selfe-mistrust , Which is a true marke of the truest merit ; In virgin feare of mens illiterate lust , Shut her soft wings , and durst not shew her spirit ; Till , nobly cherisht , now thou lett'st her flie , Singing the sable orgies of the Muses , And in the highest pitch of tragoedie , Mak'st her command , all things thy ground produces . Besides , thy Poëme hath this due respect , That it lets passe nothing , without obseruing , Worthie instruction ; or that might correct Rude manners , and renowme the well deseruing : Performing such a liuely euidence In thy narrations , that thy hearers still Thou turn'st to thy spectators ; and the sense That thy spectators haue of good or ill , Thou iniect'st ioyntly to thy readers soules . So deare is held , so deckt thy numerous taske , As thou putt'st handles to the Thespian boules , Or stuck'st rich plumes in the Palladian caske . All thy worth , yet , thy selfe must patronise , By quaffing more of the Castalian head ; In expiscation of whose mysteries , Our nets must still be clogd , with heauie lead , To make them sinke , and catch : For chearefull gold Was neuer found in the Pierian streames , But wants , and scornes , and shames for siluer sold . What ? what shall we elect in these extreames ? Now by the shafts of the great CYRRHAN Poet , That beare all light , that is , about the world ; I would haue all dull Poet-haters know it , They shall be soule-bound , and in darknesse hurld , A thousand yeares ( as Sathan was , their fyre ) Ere any , worthie the poetique name , ( Might I , that warme but at the Muses fire , Presume to guard it ) should let deathlesse Fame Light halfe a beame of all her hundred eyes , At his dimme taper , in their memories . Flie , flie , you are too neere ; so , odorous flowers Being held too neere the sensor of our sense , Render not pure , nor so sincere their powers , As being held a little distance thence . O could the world but feele how sweet a touch The Knowledge hath , which is in loue with goodnesse , ( If Poesie were not rauished so much , And her compos'de rage , held the simplest woodnesse , Though of all heats , that temper humane braines , Hers euer was most subtle , high , and holy , First binding sauage liues , in ciuile chaines : Solely religious , and adored solely , If was felt this ) they would not thinke a loue , That giues it selfe , in her , did vanities giue ; Who is ( in earth , though low ) in worth aboue , Most able t' honour life , though least to liue . And so good Friend , safe passage to thy freight , To thee a long peace , through a vertuous strife , In which , le ts both contend to vertues height , Not making fame our obiect , but good life . GEOR. CHAPMAN . To his worthy friend , the Author , H. HOLLAND . IN that , this booke doth deigne SEIANVS name , Him vnto more , then CAESARS loue , it brings : For , where he could not with ambition's wings , One quill doth heaue him to the height of fame . Yee great-ones though ( whose ends may be the same ) Know , that , how euer we doe flatter kings , Their fauours ( like themselues ) are fading things , With no lesse enuie had , then lost with shame . Nor make your selues lesse honest then you are , To make our author wiser then he is : Ne of such crimes accuse him , which I dare By all his Muses sweare , be none of his . The men are not , some faults may be these times : He acts those men , and they did act these crimes . Amicissimo , & meritissimo BEN : IONSON . QVod arte ansus et hic tuâ , Poeta , Si anderent hominum Deique iuris Consulti , veteres sequi aemulariérque , O omnes saperemus ad salutem . His sed sunt veteres araneosi ; Tam nemo veterum est sequutor , vt tu Illos quòd sequeris nouator audis . Factamen quod agis ; tuique primâ Libricanitie induantur horâ : Nam chartis pueritiae est neganda , Nascuntúrque senes , oportet , illi Libri , queis dare vis perennitatem . Priscis , ingenium facit , labérque Te parem ; hos superes , vt & futuros , Ex nostrâ vitiositate sumas , Quâ priscos superamus , & futuros . I. D. AD VTRAMQVE ACADEMIAM , DE BENIAMIN IONSONIO . HIc ille est primus , qui doctum drama Britannis , Graiorum antiqua , & Latij monimenta Theatri , Tanquam explorator versans , foelicibus ausis Prebebit : Magnis coeptis Gemina astra fauete . Alterutrâ veteres contenti laude : Cothurnum hic , Atque pari soccum tractat Sol scenicus arte , Das VOLPONE iocos , fletus SEIANE dedisti . At si IONSONIAS mulctatas limite Musas Angustâ plangent quiquam : Vos , dicite , contrà , O nimiùm miseros quibus ANGLIS ANGLICA lingua Aut non sat nota est ; aut queis ( sen trans mare natis ) Hand nota omnino : Vegetet cum tempore Vates , Mutabit patriam , fiêtque ipse ANGLVS APOLLO . E. BOLTON . To my deare friend , M. BEN : IONSON . IF it might stand with iustice , to allow The swift conuersion of all follies ; now , Such is my mercy , that I could admit All sorts should equally approue the wit Of this thy euen worke : whose growing fame Shall raise thee high , and thou it , with thy name . And did not manners , and my loue command Me to forbeare to make those vnderstand , Whom thou , perhaps , hast in thy wiser doome Long since , firmely resolu'd , shall neuer come To know more then they doe ; I would haue showne To all the world , the art , which thou alone Hast taught our tongue , the rules of time of place , And other rites , deliuer'd , with the grace Of comick stile , which only , is farre more , Then any English stage hath knowne before . But , since our subtle gallants thinke it good To like of nought , that may be vnderstood , Lest they should be disprou'd ; or haue , at best , Stomacks so raw , that nothing can digest But what 's obscene , or barkes : Let vs desire They may continue , simply , to admire Fine clothes , and strange words ; & may liue , in age , To see themselues ill brought vpon the stage , And like it . Whilst thy bold , and knowing Muse Contenes al praise , but such as thou wouldst chuse FRANC BEAVMONT . VPON THE SILENT WOMAN . HEare you bad writers , and though you not see , I will informe you where you happy bee : Prouide the most malicious thoughts you can , And bend them all against some priuate man , To bring him , not his vices , on the stage , Your enuie shall be clad in so poore rage , And your expressing of him shall be such , That he himselfe shall thinke he hath no touch . Where he that strongly writes , although he meane To scourge but vices in a labour'd scene , Yet priuate faults shall be so well exprest As men doe act hem , that each priuate brest , That findes these errors in it selfe , shall say , He meant me , not my vices , in the play . FRANC BEAVMONT . To my friend M. BEN : IONSON . IF thou had'st itch'd after the wild applause Of common people , and had'st made thy lawes In writing , such , as catch'd at present voice , I should commend the thing , but not thy choise . But thou hast squar'd thy rules , by what is good ; And art , three ages yet , from vnderstood : And ( I dare say ) in it , there lyes much wit Lost , till thy readers can grow vp to it . Which they can ne're out-grow , to find it ill , But must fall backe againe , or like it still . FRANC BEAVMONT .

The text of Every Man in His Humour from Jonson's Works appears in the EarlyPrint corpus as a separate documentwith the filename A04632_01 The text of Every Man out of his Humor from Jonson's Works appears in the EarlyPrint corpus as a separate documentwith the filename A04632_02 The text of Cynthia's Revels from Jonson's Works appears in the EarlyPrint corpus as a separate documentwith the filename A04632_03 The text of Poetaster from Jonson's Works appears in the EarlyPrint corpus as a separate documentwith the filename A04632_04 The text of Sejanus His Fall from Jonson's Works appears in the EarlyPrint corpus as a separate documentwith the filename A04632_05 The text of Volpone from Jonson's Works appears in the EarlyPrint corpus as a separate document with the filename A04632_06 The text of Epicoene, or The Silent Woman from Jonson's Works appears in the EarlyPrint corpus as a separate document with the filename A04632_07 The text of The Alchemist from Jonson's Works appears in the EarlyPrint corpus as a separate document with the filename A04632_08 The text of Catiline His Conspiracy from Jonson's Works appears in the EarlyPrint corpus as a separate document with the filename A04632_09

EPIGRAMMES . I. BOOKE .

The Author B. I.

LONDON ,

M. DC . XVI .

TO THE GREAT EXAMPLE OF HONOR AND VERTVE , THE MOST NOBLE WILLIAM , EARLE OF PEMBROKE , L. CHAMBERLAYNE , &c.

MY LORD . While you cannot change your merit , I dare not change your title : It was that made it , and not I. Vnder which name , I here offer to your Lo : the ripest of my studies , my Epigrammes ; which , though they carry danger in the sound , doe not therefore seeke your shelter : For , when I made them , I had nothing in my conscience , to expressing of which I did need a cypher . But , if I be falne into those times , wherein , for the likenesse of vice , and facts , euery one thinks anothers ill deeds obiected to him ; and that in their ignorant and guiltie mouthes , the common voyce is ( for their securitie ) Beware the Poet , confessing , therein , so much loue to their diseases , as they would rather make a partie for them , then be either rid , or told of them : I must expect , at your Lo : hand , the protection of truth , and libertie , while you are constant to your owne goodnesse . In thankes whereof , I returne you the honor of leading forth so many good , and great names ( as my verses mention on the better part ) to their remembrance with posteritie . Amongst whom , if I haue praysed , vnfortunately , any one , that doth not deserue ; or , if all answere not , in all numbers , the pictures I haue made of them : I hope it will be forgiuen me , that they are no ill pieces , though they be not like the persons . But I foresee a neerer fate to my booke , then this : that the vices therein will be own'd before the vertues ( though , there , I haue auoyded all particulars , as I haue done names ) and that some will be so readie to discredit me , as they will haue the impudence to belye themselues . For , if I meant them not , it is so . Nor , can I hope otherwise . For , why should they remit any thing of their riot , their pride , their selfe-loue , and other inherent graces , to consider truth or vertue ; but , with the trade of the world , lend their long eares against men they loue not : and hold their deare Mountebanke , or Iester , in farre better condition , then all the studie , or studiers of humanitie ? For such , I would rather know them by their visards , still , then they should publish their faces , at their perill , in my Theater , where CATO , if he liu'd , might enter without scandall .

Your Lo : most faithfull honorer , BEN. IONSON .

EPIGRAMMES . I. TO THE READER . PRay thee , take care , that tak'st my booke in hand , To reade it well : that is , to vnderstand . II. TO MY BOOKE . IT will be look'd for , booke , when some but see Thy title , Epigrammes , and nam'd of mee , Thou should'st be bold , licentious , full of gall , Wormewood , and sulphure , sharpe , and tooth'd withall ; Become a petulant thing , hurle inke , and wit , As mad-men stones : not caring whom they hit . Deceiue their malice , who could wish it so . And by thy wiser temper , let men know Thou art not couetous of least selfe fame , Made from the hazard of anothers shame : Much lesse with lewd , prophane , and beastly phrase , To catch the worlds loose laughter , or vaine gaze . He that departs with his owne honesty For vulgar praise , doth it too dearely buy . III. TO MY BOOKE-SELLER . THou , that mak'st gaine thy end , and wisely well , Call'st a booke good , or bad , as it doth sell , Vse mine so , too : I giue thee leaue . But craue For the lucks sake , it thus much fauour haue . By that one spell he liues , eates , drinkes , arrayes Himselfe : his whole reuennue is , god payes . The quarter day is come ; the hostesse sayes , Shee must haue money : he returnes , god payes . The taylor brings a suite home ; he it ' ssayes , Lookes o're the bill , likes it : and say's , god payes . He steales to ordinaries ; there he playes At dice his borrow'd money : which , god payes . Then takes vp fresh commoditie , for dayes ; Signes to new bond , forfeits : and cryes , god payes . That lost , he keepes his chamber , reades Essayes , Takes physick , teares the papers : still god payes . Or else by water goes , and so to playes ; Calls for his stoole , adornes the stage : god payes . To euery cause he meets , this voyce he brayes : His onely answere is to all , god payes . Not his poore cocatrice but he betrayes Thus : and for his letcherie , scores , god payes . But see ! th' old baud hath seru'd him in his trim , Lent him a pockie whore . Shee hath paid him . XIII . TO DOCTOR EMPIRICK ▪ WHen men a dangerous disease did scape , Of old , they gaue a cock to AESCVLAPE ; Let me giue two : that doubly am got free , From my diseases danger , and from thee . XIIII . TO WILLIAM CAMDEN ▪ CAMDEN , most reuerend head , to whom I owe All that I am in arts , all that I know . ( How nothing's that ? ) to whom my countrey owes The great renowne , and name wherewith shee goes . Then thee the age sees not that thing more graue , More high , more holy , that shee more would craue . What name , what skill , what faith hast thou in things ! What sight in searching the most antique springs ! What weight , and what authoritie in thy speech ! Man scarse can make that doubt , but thou canst teach . Pardon free truth , and let thy modestie , Which conquers all , be once ouer-come by thee . Many of thine this better could , then I , But for their powers , accept my pietie . XV. ON COVRT-WORME . ALL men are wormes : But this no man. In silke 'T was brought to court first wrapt , and white as milke ; Where , afterwards , it grew a butter-flye : Which was a cater-piller . So t' will dye . XVI . TO BRAYNE-HARDIE . HARDIE , thy braine is valiant , 't is confest , Thou more ; that with it euery day , dar'st iest Thy selfe into fresh braules : when , call'd vpon , Scarse thy weekes swearing brings thee of , of one . So , in short time , th' art in arrerage growne Some hundred quarrells , yet dost thou fight none ; Nor need'st thou : for those few , by oath releast , Make good what thou dar'st doe in all the rest . Keepe thy selfe there , and thinke thy valure right , He that dares damne himselfe , dares more then fight . XVII . TO THE LEARNED CRITICK . MAy others feare , flie , and traduce thy name , As guiltie men doe magistrates : glad I , That wish my poemes a legitimate fame , Charge them , for crowne , to thy sole censure hye . And , but a sprigge of bayes , giuen by thee , Shall out-liue gyrlands , stolne from the chast tree . XVIII . TO MY MEERE ENGLISH CENSVRER . TO thee , my way in Epigrammes seemes new , When both it is the old way , and the true . Thou saist , that cannot be : for thou hast seene DAVIS , and WEEVER , and the best haue beene , And mine come nothing like . I hope so . Yet , As theirs did with thee , mine might credit get : If thou 'ldst but vse thy faith , as thou didst then , When thou wert wont t' admire , not censure men . Pr'y thee beleeue still , and not iudge so fast , Thy faith is all the knowledge that thou hast . XIX . ON SIR COD THE PERFVMED . THat COD can get no widdow , yet a knight , I sent the cause : Hee wooes with an ill sprite . XX. TO THE SAME SIR COD . TH' expence in odours is a most vaine sinne , Except thou could'st , Sir COD , weare them within . XXI . ON REFORMED GAM'STER . LOrd , how is GAM'STER chang'd ! his haire close cut ! His neck fenc'd round with ruffe ! his eyes halfe shut ! His clothes two fashions of , and poore ! his sword Forbidd ' his side ! and nothing , but the word Quick in his lips ! who hath this wonder wrought ? The late'tane bastinado . So I thought . What seuerall wayes men to their calling haue ! The bodies stripes , I see , the soule may saue . XXII . ON MY FIRST DAVGHTER . HEre lyes to each her parents ruth , MARY , the daughter of their youth : Yet , all heauens gifts , being heauens due , It makes the father , lesse , to rue . At sixe moneths end , shee parted hence With safetie of her innocence ; Whose soule heauens Queene , ( whose name shee beares ) In comfort of her mothers teares , Hath plac'd amongst her virgin-traine : Where , while that seuer'd doth remaine , This graue partakes the fleshly birth . Which couer lightly , gentle earth . XXIII . TO IOHN DONNE . DONNE , the delight of PHOEBVS , and each Muse , Who , to thy one , all other braines refuse ; Whos 's euery worke , of thy most earely wit , Came forth example , and remaines so , yet : Longer a knowing , then most wits doe liue . And which no affection praise enough can giue ! To it , thy language , letters , arts , best life , Which might with halfe mankind maintayne a strife . All which I meant to praise , and , yet , I would ; But leaue , because I cannot as I should ! XXIIII . TO THE PARLIAMENT . THere 's reason good , that you good lawes should make● Mens manners ne're were viler , for your sake . XXV . ON SIR VOLVPTVOVS BEAST . WHile BEAST instructs his faire , and innocent wife , In the past pleasures of his sensuall life , Telling the motions of each petticote , And how his GANIMEDE mou'd , and how his goate , And now , her ( hourely ) her owne cucqueane makes , In varied shapes , which for his lust shee takes : What doth he else , but say , leaue to be cha●t , Iust wife , and , to change me , make womans hast . XXVI . ON THE SAME BEAST . THen his cha●t wife , though BEAST now know no more , He'adulters still : his thoughts lye with a whore . XXVII . ON SIR IOHN ROE . IN place of scutcheons , that should decke thy herse , Take better ornaments , my teares , and verse . If any sword could saue from Fates , ROE'S could ; If any Muse out-liue their spight , his can ; If any friends teares could restore , his would ; If any pious life ere lifted man To heauen ; his hath : O happy state ! wherein Wee , sad for him , may glorie , and not sinne . XXVIII . ON DON SVRLY . DON SVRLY , to aspire the glorious name Of a great man , and to be thought the same , Makes serious vse of all great trade he knowes . He speakes to men with a Rhinocerotes nose , Which hee thinkes great ; and so reades verses , too : And , that is done , as he saw great men doe . H' has tympanies of businesse , in his face , And , can forget mens names , with a great grace . He will both argue , and discourse in oathes , Both which are great . And laugh at ill made clothes ; That 's greater , yet : to crie his owne vp neate . He doth , at meales , alone , his pheasant eate . Which is maine greatnesse . And , at his still boord , He drinkes to no man : that 's , too , like a lord . He keepes anothers wife , which is a spice Of solemne greatnesse . And he dares , at dice , Blaspheme god , greatly . Or some poore hinde beat , That breathes in his dogs way : and this is great . Nay more , for greatnesse sake , he will be one May heare my Epigrammes , but like of none . SVRLY , vse other arts , these only can Stile thee a most great foole , but no great man. XXIX . TO SIR ANNVAL TILTER . TILTER , the most may'admire thee , though not I : And thou , right guiltlesse , may'st plead to it , why ? For thy late sharpe deuice . I say 't is fit All braines , at times of triumph , should runne wit. For then , our water-conduits doe runne wine ; But that 's put in , thou 'lt say . Why , so is thine . XXX . TO PERSON GVILTIE . GVILTIE , be wise ; and though thou know'st the crimes Be thine , I taxe , yet doe not owne my rimes : 'T were madnesse in thee , to betray thy fame , And person to the world ; ere I thy name . XXXI . ON BANCK THE VSVRER . BANCK feeles no lamenesse of his knottie gout , His monyes trauaile for him , in and out : And though the soundest legs goe euery day , He toyles to be at hell , as soone as they . XXXII . ON SIR IOHN ROE . WHat two braue perills of the priuate sword Could not effect , not all the furies doe , That selfe-diuided Belgia did afford ; What not the enuie of the seas reach'd too , The cold of Mosco , and fat Irish ayre , His often change of clime ( though not of mind ) What could not worke ; at home in his repaire Was his blest fate , but our hard lot to find . Which shewes , where euer death doth please t' appeare , Seas , serenes , swords , shot , sicknesse , all are there . XXXIII . TO THE SAME . I Le not offend thee with a vaine teare more , Glad-mention'd ROE : thou art but gone before , Whither the world must follow . And I , now , Breathe to expect my when , and make my how . Which if most gracious heauen grant like thine , Who wets my graue , can be no friend of mine . XXXIIII . OF DEATH . HE that feares death , or mournes it , in the iust , Shewes of the resurrection little trust . The children , that he keepes , GILES sweares are none Of his begetting . And so sweares his IONE . In all affections shee concurreth still . If , now , with man and wife , to will , and nill The selfe-same things , a note of concord be : I know no couple better can agree ! XLIII . TO ROBERT EARLE OF SALISBVRIE . WHat need hast thou of me ? or of my Muse ? Whose actions so themselues doe celebrate ? Which should thy countries loue to speake refuse , Her foes enough would fame thee in their hate . ' Tofore , great men were glad of Poets : Now , I , not the worst , am couetous of thee . Yet dare not , to my thought , lest hope allow Of adding to thy fame ; thine may to me , When in my booke , men reade but CECILL'S name , And what I write thereof find farre , and free From seruile flatterie ( common Poets shame ) As thou stand'st cleere of the necessitie . XLIIII . ON CHVFFE , BANCKS THE VSVRER'S KINSMAN . CHVFFE , lately rich in name , in chattels , goods , And rich in issue to inherit all , Ere blacks were bought for his owne funerall , Saw all his race approch the blacker floods : He meant they thither should make swift repaire , When he made him executor , might be heire . XLV . ON MY FIRST SONNE . FArewell , thou child of my right hand , and ioy ; My sinne was too much hope of thee , lou'd boy , Seuen yeeres tho'wert lent to me , and I thee pay , Exacted by thy fate , on the iust day . O , could I loose all father , now . For why Will man lament the state he should enuie ? To haue so soone scap'd worlds , and fleshes rage , And , if no other miserie , yet age ? Rest in soft peace , and , ask'd , say here doth lye BEN. IONSON his best piece of poetrie . For whose sake , hence-forth , all his vowes be such , As what loues may neuer like too much . XLVI . TO SIR LVCKLESSE WOO-ALL . IS this the Sir , who , some wast wife to winne , A knight-hood bought , to goe a wooing in ? 'T is LVCKLESSE he , that tooke vp one on band To pay at 's day of marriage . By my hand The knight-wright's cheated then : Hee 'll neuer pay . Yes , now he weares his knight-hood euery day . XLVII . TO THE SAME . SIr LVCKLESSE , troth , for lucks sake passe by one : Hee that wooes euery widdow , will get none . XLVIII . ON MVNGRIL ESQVIRE . HIs bought armes MVNG ' not lik'd ; for his first day Of bearing them in field , he threw'hem away : And hath no honor lost our Due'llists say . XLIX . TO PLAY-WRIGHT . PLAY-WRIGHT me reades , and still my verses damnes , He sayes , I want the tongue of Epigrammes ; I haue no salt : no bawdrie he doth meane . For wittie , in his language , is obscene . PLAY-WRIGHT , I loath to haue thy manners knowne In my chast booke : professe them in thine owne . L. TO SIR COD . LEaue COD , tabacco-like , burnt gummes to take , Or fumie clysters , thy moist lungs to bake : Arsenike would thee fit for societie make . LVIII . TO GROOME IDEOT . IDEOT , last night , I pray'd thee but forbeare To reade my verses ; now I must to heare : For offring , with thy smiles , my wit to grace , Thy ignorance still laughs in the wrong place . And so my sharpnesse thou no lesse dis-ioynts , Then thou did'st late my sense , loosing my points . So haue I seene at CHRIST-masse sports one lost , And , hood-wink'd , for a man , embrace a post . LIX . ON SPIES . SPIES , you are lights in state , but of base stuffe , Who , when you' haue burnt your selues downe to the snuffe , Stinke , and are throwne away . End faire enough . LX. TO WILLIAM LORD MOVNTEAGLE . LOe , what my countrey should haue done ( haue rais'd An obeliske , or columne to thy name , Or , if shee would but modestly haue prais'd Thy fact , in brasse or marble writ the same ) I , that am glad of thy great chance , here doo ! And proud , my worke shall out-last common deeds , Durst thinke it great , and worthy wonder too , But thine , for which I doo 't , so much exceeds ! My countries parents I haue many knowne ; But sauer of my countrey thee alone . LXI . TO FOOLE , OR KNAVE . THy praise , or dispraise is to me alike , One doth not stroke me , nor the other strike . LXII . TO FINE LADY WOVLD-BEE . FIne MADAME WOVLD-BEE , wherefore should you feare , That loue to make so well , a child to beare ? The world reputes you barren : but I know Your ' pothecarie , and his drug sayes no. Is it the paine affrights ? that 's soone forgot . Or your complexions losse ? you haue a pot , That can restore that . Will it hurt your feature ? To make amends , yo' are thought a wholesome creature . What should the cause be ? Oh , you liue at court : And there 's both losse of time , and losse of sport In a great belly . Write , then on thy wombe , Of the not borne , yet buried , here 's the tombe . LXIII . TO ROBERT EARLE OF SALISBVRIE . WHo can consider thy right courses run , With what thy vertue on the times hath won , And not thy fortune ; who can cleerely see The iudgement of the king so shine in thee ; And that thou seek'st reward of thy each act , Not from the publike voyce , but priuate fact ; Who can behold all enuie so declin'd By constant suffring of thy equall mind ; And can to these be silent , Salisburie , Without his , thine , and all times iniurie ? Curst be his Muse , that could lye dumbe , or hid To so true worth , though thou thy selfe forbid . LXIIII. TO THE SAME . Vpon the accession of the Treasurer-ship to him . NOt glad , like those that haue new hopes , or sutes , With thy new place , bring I these early fruits Of loue , and what the golden age did hold A treasure , art : contemn'd in th'age of gold . Nor glad as those , that old dependents bee , To see thy fathers rites new laid on thee . Nor glad for fashion . Nor to shew a fit Of flatterie to thy titles . Nor of wit. But I am glad to see that time suruiue ▪ Where merit is not sepulcher'd aliue . Delay is bad , doubt worse , depending worst ; Each best day of our life escapes vs , first . Then , since we ( more then many ) these truths know : Though life be short , let vs not make it so . LXXI . ON COVRT-PARRAT . TO plucke downe mine , POLL sets vp new wits still , Still , 't is his lucke to praise me 'gainst his will. LXXII . TO COVRT-LING . I Grieue not , COVRTLING , thou art started vp A chamber-critick , and dost dine , and sup At MADAMES table , where thou mak'st all wit Goe high , or low , as thou wilt value it . 'T is not thy iudgement breeds the preiudice , Thy person only , COVRTLING , is the vice . LXXIII . TO FINE GRAND . WHat is' t , fine GRAND , makes thee my friendship flye , Or take an Epigramme so fearefully : As 't were a challenge , or a borrowers letter ? The world must know your greatnesse is my debter . In-primis , GRAND , you owe me for a iest ; I lent you , on meere acquaintance , at a feast . Item , a tale or two , some fortnight after ; That yet maintaynes you , and your house in laughter . Item , the babylonian song you sing ; Item , a faire greeke poesie for a ring : With which a learned Madame you belye . Item , a charme surrounding fearefully , Your partie-per-pale picture , one halfe drawne In solemne cypres , the other cob-web-lawne . Item , a gulling imprese for you , at tilt . Item , your mistris anagram , i' your hilt . Item , your owne , sew'd in your mistris smock . Item , an epitaph on my lords cock , In most vile verses , and cost me more paine , Then had I made 'hem good , to fit your vaine . Fortie things more , deare GRAND , which you know true , For which , or pay me quickly ' , or I le pay you . LXXIIII . TO THOMAS LORD CHANCELOR . WHil'st thy weigh'd iudgements , EGERTON , I heare , And know thee , then , a iudge , not of one yeare ; Whil'st I behold thee liue with purest hands ; That no affection in thy voyce commands ; That still th' art present to the better cause ; And no lesse wise , then skilfull in the lawes ; Whil'st thou art certaine to thy words , once gone , As is thy conscience , which is alwayes one : The Virgin , long-since fled from earth , I see , T' our times return'd , hath made her heauen in thee . LXXV . ON LIPPE , THE TEACHER . I Cannot thinke there 's that antipathy 'Twixt puritanes , and players , as some cry ; Though LIPPE , at PAVLS , ranne from his text away , T'inueigh 'gainst playes : what did he then but play ? LXXVI . ON LVCY COVNTESSE OF BEDFORD . THis morning , timely rapt with holy fire , I thought to forme vnto my zealous Muse , What kinde of creature I could most desire , To honor , serue , and loue ; as Poets vse . I meant to make her faire , and free , and wise , Of greatest bloud , and yet more good then great ; I meant the day-starre should not brighter rise , Nor lend like influence from his lucent seat . I meant shee should be curteous , facile , sweet , Hating that solemne vice of greatnesse , pride ; I meant each softest vertue , there should meet , Fit in that softer bosome to reside . Onely a learned , and a manly soule I purpos'd her ; that should , with euen powers , The rock , the spindle , and the sheeres controule Of destinie , and spin her owne free houres . Such when I meant to faine , and wish'd to see , My Muse bad , Bedford write , and that was shee . LXXVII . TO ONE THAT DESIRED ME NOT TO NAME HIM . BE safe , nor feare thy selfe so good a fame , That , any way , my booke should speake thy name : For , if thou shame , ranck'd with my friends , to goe , I 'am more asham'd to haue thee thought my foe . LXXVIII . TO HORNET . HORNET , thou hast thy wife drest , for the stall , To draw thee custome : but her selfe gets all . LXXIX . TO ELIZABETH COVNTESSE OF RVTLAND . THat Poets are far rarer births then kings , Your noblest father prou'd : like whom , before , Or then , or since , about our Muses springs , Came not that soule exhausted so their store . Hence was it , that the destinies decreed ( Saue that most masculine issue of his braine ) No male vnto him : who could so exceed Nature , they thought , in all , that he would faine . At which , shee happily displeas'd , made you : On whom , if he were liuing now , to looke , He should those rare , and absolute numbers view , As he would burne , or better farre his booke . LXXX . OF LIFE , AND DEATH . THe ports of death are sinnes ; of life , good deeds : Through which , our merit leads vs to our meeds . How wilfull blind is he then , that would stray , And hath it , in his powers , to make his way ! This world deaths region is , the other lifes : And here , it should be one of our first strifes , So to front death , as men might iudge vs past it . For good men but see death , the wicked tast it . LXXXI . TO PROVLE THE PLAGIARY . FOrbeare to tempt me , PROVLE , I will not show A line vnto thee , till the world it know ; Or that I' haue by two good sufficient men , To be the wealthy witnesse of my pen : For all thou hear'st , thou swear'st thy selfe didst doo . Thy wit liues by it , PROVLE , and belly too . Which , if thou leaue not soone ( though I am loth ) I must a libell make , and cosen both . LXXXII . ON CASHIERD CAPT. SVRLY . SVRLY'S old whore in her new silkes doth swim : He cast , yet keeps her well ! No , shee keeps him . LXXXIII . TO A FRIEND . TO put out the word , whore , thou do'st me woo , Throughout my booke . ' Troth put out woman too . LXXXIIII . TO LVCY COVNTESSE OF BEDFORD . MADAME , I told you late how I repented , I ask'd a lord a buck , and he denyed me ; And , ere I could aske you , I was preuented : For your most noble offer had supply'd me . Straight went I home ; and there most like a Poet , I fancied to my selfe , what wine , what wit I would haue spent : how euery Muse should know it , And PHOEBVS-selfe should be at eating it . O Madame , if your grant did thus transferre mee , Make it your gift . See whither that will beare mee . LXXXV . TO SIR HENRY GOODYERE . GOODYERE , I 'am glad , and gratefull to report , My selfe a witnesse of thy few dayes sport : Where I both learn'd , why wise-men hawking follow , And why that bird was sacred to APOLLO , Shee doth instruct men by her gallant flight , That they to knowledge so should toure vpright , And neuer stoupe , but to strike ignorance : Which if they misse , they yet should re-aduance To former height , and there in circle tarrie , Till they be sure to make the foole their quarrie . Now , in whose pleasures I haue this discerned , What would his serious actions me haue learned ? LXXXVI . TO THE SAME . WHen I would know thee GOODYERE , my thought lookes Vpon thy wel-made choise of friends , and bookes ; Then doe I loue thee , and behold thy ends In making thy friends bookes , and thy bookes friends : Now , I must giue thy life , and deed , the voice Attending such a studie , such a choice . Where , though 't be loue , that to thy praise doth moue It was a knowledge , that begat that loue . LXXXVII . ON CAPTAINE HAZARD THE CHEATER . TOuch'd with the sinne of false play , in his punque , HAZARD a month forsware his ; and grew drunke , Each night , to drowne his cares : But when the gaine Of what shee had wrought came in , and wak'd his braine , Vpon th'accompt , hers grew the quicker trade . Since when , hee 's sober againe , and all play 's made . LXXXVIII . ON ENGLISH MOVNSIEVR . WOuld you beleeue , when you this MOVNSIEVR see , That his whole body should speake french , not he ? That so much skarfe of France , and hat , and fether , And shooe , and tye , and garter should come hether , And land on one , whose face durst neuer bee Toward the sea , farther then halfe-way tree ? That he , vntrauell'd , should be french so much , As french-men in his companie , should seeme dutch ? Or had his father , when he did him get , The french disease , with which he labours yet ? Or hung some MOVNSIEVRS picture on the wall , By which his damme conceiu'd him clothes and all ? Or is it some french statue ? No : 'T doth moue , And stoupe , and cringe . O then , it needs must proue The new french-taylors motion , monthly made , Daily to turne in PAVLS , and helpe the trade . LXXXIX . TO EDWARD ALLEN . IF Rome so great , and in her wisest age , Fear'd not to boast the glories of her stage , As skilfull ROSCIVS , and graue AESOPE , men , Yet crown'd with honors , as with riches , then ; Who had no lesse a trumpet of their name , Then CICERO , whose euery breath was fame : How can so great example dye in mee , That , ALLEN , I should pause to publish thee ? Who both their graces in thy selfe hast more Out-stript , then they did all that went before : And present worth in all dost so contract , As others speake , but onely thou dost act . Weare this renowne . 'T is iust , that who did giue So many Poets life , by one should liue . XC . ON MILL . MY LADIES WOMAN . WHen MILL first came to court , the vnprositing foole , Vnworthy such a mistris , such a schoole , Was dull , and long , ere shee would goe to man : At last , ease , appetite , and example wan The nicer thing to tast her ladies page ; And , finding good securitie in his age , Went on : and prouing him still , day by day , Discern'd no difference of his yeeres , or play . Not though that haire grew browne , which once was amber , And he growne youth , was call'd to his ladies chamber , Still MILL continu'd : Nay , his face growing worse , And he remou'd to gent'man of the horse , MILL was the same . Since , both his body and face Blowne vp ; and he ( too'vnwieldie for that place ) Willing to expiate the fault in thee , Wherewith , against thy bloud , they'offenders bee . XCIIII . TO LVCY , COVNTESSE OF BEDFORD , WITH Mr. DONNES SATYRES . LVCY , you brightnesse of our spheare , who are Life of the Muses day , their morning-starre ! If workes ( not th' authors ) their owne grace should looke , Whose poemes would not wish to be your booke ? But these , desir'd by you , the makers ends Crowne with their owne . Rare poemes aske rare friends . Yet , Satyres , since the most of mankind bee Their vn-auoided subiect , fewest see : For none ere tooke that pleasure in sinnes sense , But , when they heard it tax'd , tooke more offence . They , then , that liuing where the matter is bred , Dare for these poemes , yet , both aske , and read , And like them too ; must needfully , though few , Be of the best : and 'mongst those , best are you . LVCY , you brightnesse of our spheare , who are The Muses euening , as their morning-starre . XCV . TO SIR HENRIE SAVILE . IF , my religion safe , I durst embrace That stranger doctrine of PYTHAGORAS , I should beleeue , the soule of TACITVS In thee , most weighty SAVILE , liu'd to vs : So hast thou rendred him in all his bounds , And all his numbers , both of sense , and sounds . But when I read that speciall piece , restor'd , Where NERO falls , and GALBA is ador'd , To thine owne proper I ascribe then more ; And gratulate the breach , I grieu'd before : Which Fate ( it seemes ) caus'd in the historie , Onely to boast thy merit in supply . O , would'st thou adde like hand , to all the rest ! Or , better worke ! were thy glad countrey blest , To haue her storie wouen in thy thred ; MINERVAES loome was neuer richer spred . For who can master those great parts like thee , That liu'st from hope , from feare , from faction free ; That hast thy brest so cleere of present crimes , Thou need'st not shrinke at voyce of after-times ; Whose knowledge claymeth at the helme to stand ; But , wisely , thrusts not forth a forward hand , No more then SALVST in the Romane state ! As , then , his cause , his glorie emulate . Although to write be lesser then to doo , It is the next deed , and a great one too . We need a man that knowes the seuerall graces Of historie , and how to apt their places ; Where breuitie , where splendor , and where height , Where sweetnesse is requir'd , and where weight ; We need a man , can speake of the intents , The councells , actions , orders , and euents Of state , and censure them : we need his pen Can write the things , the causes , and the men . But most we need his faith ( and all haue you ) That dares nor write things false , nor hide things true . XCVI . TO IOHN DONNE . WHo shall doubt , DONNE , where I a Poet bee , When I dare send my Epigrammes to thee ? That so alone canst iudge , so'alone dost make : And , in thy censures , euenly , dost take As free simplicitie , to dis-auow , As thou hast best authoritie , t' allow . Reade all I send : and , if I find but one Mark'd by thy hand , and with the better stone , My title 's seal'd . Those that for claps doe write , Let pui'nees , porters , players praise delight , And , till they burst , their backs , like asses load : A man should seeke great glorie , and not broad . XCVII . ON THE NEW MOTION . SEe you yond' Motion ? Not the old Fa-ding , Nor Captayne POD , nor yet the Eltham-thing ; But one more rare , and in the case so new : His cloke with orient veluet quite lin'd through , His rosie tyes and garters so ore-blowne , By his each glorious parcell to be knowne ! He wont was to encounter me , aloud , Where ere he met me ; now hee 's dumbe , or proud . Know you the cause ? H' has neither land , nor lease , Nor baudie stock , that trauells for encrease , Nor office in the towne , nor place in court , Nor'bout the beares , nor noyse to make lords sport . He is no fauourites fauourite , no deare trust Of any Madames , hath neadd squires , and must . Nor did the king of Denmarke him salute , When he was here . Nor hath he got a sute , Since he was gone , more then the one he weares . Nor are the Queenes most honor'd maides by th' eares About his forme . What then so swells each lim ? Onely his clothes haue ouer-leauen'd him . XCVIII . TO SIR THOMAS ROE . THou hast begun well , ROE , which stand well too , And I know nothing more thou hast to doo . He that is round within himselfe , and streight , Need seeke no other strength , no other height ; Fortune vpon him breakes her selfe , if ill , And what would hurt his vertue makes it still . That thou at once , then , nobly maist defend With thine owne course the iudgement of thy friend , Be alwayes to thy gather'd selfe the same : And studie conscience , more then thou would'st fame . Though both be good , the latter yet is worst , And euer is ill got without the first . XCIX . TO THE SAME . THat thou hast kept thy loue , encreast thy will , Better'd thy trust to letters ; that thy skill ; Hast taught thy selfe worthy thy pen to tread , And that to write things worthy to be read : How much of great example wert thou , ROE , If time to facts , as vnto men would owe ? But much it now auailes , what 's done , of whom : The selfe-same deeds , as diuersly they come , From place , or fortune , are made high , or low , And euen the praisers iudgement suffers so . Well , though thy name lesse then our great ones bee , Thy fact is more : let truth encourage thee . C. ON PLAY-WRIGHT . PLAY-WRIGHT , by chance , hearing some toyes I 'had writ , Cry'd to my face , they were th' elixir of wit : And I must now beleeue him : for , to day , Fiue of my iests , then stolne , past him a play . CI. INVITING A FRIEND TO SVPPER . TO night , graue sir , both my poore house , and I Doe equally desire your companie : Not that we thinke vs worthy such a ghest , But that your worth will dignifie our feast , With those that come ; whose grace may make that seeme Something , which , else , could hope for no esteeme . It is the faire acceptance , Sir , creates The entertaynment perfect : not the cates . Yet shall you haue , to rectifie your palate , An oliue , capers , or some better sallade Vshring the mutton ; with a short-leg'd hen , If we can get her , full of egs , and then , Limons , and wine for sauce : to these , a coney Is not to be despair'd of , for our money ; And , though fowle , now , be scarce , yet there are clarkes , The skie not falling , thinke we may haue larkes . I le tell you of more , and lye , so you will come : Of partrich , pheasant , wood-cock , of which some May yet be there ; and godwit , if we can : Knat , raile , and ruffe too . How so ere , my man Shall reade a piece of VIRGIL , TACITVS , LIVIE , or of some better booke to vs , Of which wee 'll speake our minds , amidst our meate ; And I le professe no verses to repeate : To this , if ought appeare , which I know not of , That will the pastrie , not my paper , show of . Digestiue cheese , and fruit there sure will bee ; But that , which most doth take my Muse , and mee , Is a pure cup of rich Canary-wine , Which is the Mermaids , now , but shall be mine : Of which had HORACE , or ANACREON tasted , Their liues , as doe their lines , till now had lasted . Tabacco , Nectar , or the Thespian spring , Are all but LVTHERS beere , to this I sing . Of this we will sup free , but moderately , And we will haue no Pooly ' , or Parrot by ; Nor shall our cups make any guiltie men : But , at our parting , we will be , as when We innocently met . No simple word , That shall be vtter'd at our mirthfull boord , Shall make vs sad next morning : or affright The libertie , that wee 'll enioy to night . CII . TO WILLIAM EARLE OF PEMBROKE . I Doe but name thee PEMBROKE , and I find It is an Epigramme , on all man-kind ; Against the bad , but of , and to be good : Both which are ask'd , to haue thee vnderstood . Nor could the age haue mist thee , in this strife Of vice , and vertue ; wherein all great life Almost , is exercis'd : and scarse one knowes , To which , yet , of the sides himselfe he owes . They follow vertue , for reward , to day ; To morrow vice , if shee giue better pay : And are so good , and bad , iust at a price , As nothing else discernes the vertue ' or vice . But thou , whose noblêsse keeps one stature still , And one true posture , though besieg'd with ill Of what ambition , faction , pride can raise ; Whose life , eu'n they , that enuie it , must praise ; That art so reuerenc'd , as thy comming in , But in the view , doth interrupt their sinne ; Thou must draw more : and they , that hope to see The common-wealth still safe , must studie thee . CIII . TO MARY LADY WROTH . HOw well , faire crowne of your faire sexe , might hee , That but the twi-light of your sprite did see , And noted for what flesh such soules were fram'd , Know you to be a SYDNEY , though vn-nam'd ? And , being nam'd , how little doth that name Need any Muses praise to giue it fame ? Which is , it selfe , the imprese of the great , And glorie of them all , but to repeate ! Forgiue me then , if mine but say you are A SYDNEY : but in that extend as farre As lowdest praisers , who perhaps would find For euery part a character assign'd . My praise is plaine , and where so ere profest , Becomes none more then you , who need it least . CIIII. TO SVSAN COVNTESSE OF MONTGOMERY . WEre they that nam'd you , prophets ? Did they see , Euen in the dew of grace , what you would bee ? Or did our times require it , to behold A new SVSANNA , equall to that old ? Or , because some scarce thinke that storie true , To make those faithfull , did the Fates send you ? And to your Scene lent no lesse dignitie Of birth , of match , of forme , of chastitie ? Or , more then borne for the comparison Of former age , or glorie of our one , Were you aduanced , past those times , to be The light , and marke vnto posteritie ? Iudge they , that can : Here I haue rais'd to show A picture , which the world for yours must know , And like it too ; if they looke equally : If not , 't is fit for you , some should enuy . CV . TO MARY LADY WROTH . MADAME , had all antiquitie beene lost , All historie seal'd vp , and fables crost ; That we had left vs , nor by time , nor place , Least mention of a Nymph , a Muse , a Grace , But euen their names were to be made a-new , Who could not but create them all , from you ? He , that but saw you weare the wheaten hat , Would call you more then CERES , if not that : And , drest in shepheards tyre , who would not say : You were the bright OENONE , FLORA , or May ? If dancing , all would cry th' Idalian Queene , Were leading forth the Graces on the greene : And , armed to the chase , so bare her bow DIANA'alone , so hit , and hunted so . There 's none so dull , that for your stile would aske , That saw you put on PALLAS plumed caske : Or , keeping your due state , that would not cry , There IVNO sate , and yet no Peacock by . So are you Natures Index , and restore , I' your selfe , all treasure lost of th'age before . CVI. TO SIR EDWARD HERBERT . IF men get name , for some one vertue : Then , What man art thou , that art so many men , All-vertuous HERBERT ! on whose euery part Truth might spend all her voyce , Fame all her art . Whether thy learning they would take , or wit , Or valour , or thy iudgement seasoning it , Thy standing vpright to thy selfe , thy ends Like straight , thy pietie to God , and friends : Their latter praise would still the greatest bee , And yet , they , all together , lesse then thee . CVII . TO CAPTAYNE HVNGRY . DOe what you come for , Captayne , with your newes ; That 's , sit , and eate : doe not my eares abuse . I oft looke on false coyne , to know 't from true : Not that I loue it , more , then I will you . Tell the grosse Dutch those grosser tales of yours , How great you were with their two Emperours ; And yet are with their Princes : Fill them full Of your Morauian horse , Venetian bull . Tell them , what parts yo 'haue tane , whence run away , What States yo 'haue gull'd , and which yet keepes yo'in pay . Giue them your seruices , and embassies In Ireland , Holland , Sweden , pompous lies , In Hungary , and Poland , Turkie too ; What at Ligorne , Rome , Florence you did doe : And , in some yeere , all these together heap'd , For which there must more sea , and land be leap'd , If but to be beleeu'd you haue the hap , Then can a flea at twise skip i' the Map. Giue your yong States-men , ( that first make you drunke ▪ And then lye with you , closer , then a punque , For newes ) your Ville-royes , and Silleries , I●nin's , your Nuncio's , and your Tu●lleries , Your Arch-Dukes Agents , and your Beringhams , That are your wordes of credit . Keepe your Names Of Hannow , Shieter-huissen , Popenheim , Hans-spiegle , Rotteinberg , and Boutersh●im , For your next meale : this you are sure of . Why Will you part with them , here , vnthriftely ? Nay , now you puffe , tuske , and draw vp your chin , Twirle the poore chaine you run a feasting in . Come , be not angrie , you are HVNGRY ; eate ; Doe what you come for , Captayne , There 's your meat● . CVIII . TO TRVE SOVLDIERS . STrength of my Countrey , whilst I bring to view Such as are misse-call'd Captaynes , and wrong you ; And your high names : I doe desire , that thence Be nor put on you , nor you take offence . I sweare by your true friend , my Muse , I loue Your great profession ; which I once , did proue : And did not shame it with my actions , then , No more , then I dare now doe , with my pen He that not trusts me , hauing vow'd thus much , But 's angry for the Captayne , still : is such . CIX . TO SIR HENRY NEVIL . WHo now calls on thee , NEVIL , is a Muse , That serues nor fame , nor titles ; but doth chuse Where vertue makes them both , and that 's in thee : Where all is faire , beside thy pedigree . Thou art not one , seek'st miseries with hope , Wrestlest with dignities , or fain'st a scope Of seruice to the publique , when the end Is priuate gaine , which hath long guilt to friend . Thou rather striu'st the matter to possesse , And elements of honor , then the dresse ; To make thy lent life , good against the Fates : And first to know thine owne state , then the States . To be the same in roote , thou art in height ; And that thy soule should giue thy flesh her weight . Goe on , and doubt not , what posteritie , Now I haue sung thee thus , shall iudge of thee . Thy deedes , vnto thy name , will proue new wombes , Whil'st others toyle for titles to their tombes . CX . TO CLEMENT EDMONDS , ON HIS CAESARS Commentaries obserued , and translated . NOt CAESARS deeds , nor all his honors wonne , In these west-parts , nor when that warre was done , The name of POMPEY for an enemie , CATO'S to boote , Rome , and her libertie , All yeelding to his fortune , nor , the while , To haue engrau'd these acts , with his owne stile , And that so strong and deepe , as 't might be thought , He wrote , with the same spirit that he fought , Nor that his worke liu'd in the hands of foes , Vn-argued then , and yet hath fame from those ; Not all these , EDMONDS , or what else put too , Can so speake CAESAR , as thy labours doe . For , where his person liu'd scarce , one iust age And that , midst enuy , and parts ; then fell by rage : His deedes too dying , but in bookes ( whose good How few haue read ! how fewer vnderstood ? ) Thy learned hand , and true Promethean art ( As by a new creation ) part by part , In euery counsell , stratageme , designe , Action , or engine , worth a note of thine , T' all future time , not onely doth restore His life , but makes , that he can dye no more . CXI . TO THE SAME ; ON THE SAME . WHo EDMONDS , reades thy booke , and doth not see What th'antique souldiers were , the moderne bee ? Wherein thou shew'st , how much the latter are Beholding , to this master of the warre ; And that , in action , there is nothing new , More , then to varie what our elders knew : Which all , but ignorant Captaynes will confesse : Nor to giue CAESAR this , makes ours the lesse . Yet thou , perhaps , shalt meet some tongues will grutch , That to the world thou should'st reueale so much , And thence , depraue thee , and thy worke . To those CAESAR stands vp , as from his vrne late rose , By thy great helpe : and doth proclaime by mee , They murder him againe , that enuie thee . CXII . TO A WEAKE GAMSTER IN POETRY . WIth thy small stocke , why art thou ventring still , At this so subtile sport : and play'st so ill ? Think'st thou it is meere fortune , that can win ? Or thy ranke setting ? that thou dar'st put in Thy all , at all : and what so ere I doe , Art still at that , and think'st to blow me'vp too ? I cannot for the stage a Drama lay , Tragick , or Comick ; but thou writ'st the play . I leaue thee there , and giuing way , entend An Epick poeme ; thou hast the same end . I modestly quit that , and thinke to write , Next morne , an Ode : Thou mak'st a song ere nigh ▪ I passe to Elegies ; Thou meet'st me there : To Satyres ; and thou dost pursue me . Where , Where shall I scape thee ? in an Epigramme ? O , ( thou cry'st out ) that is thy proper game . Troth , if it be , I pitty thy ill lucke ; That both for wit , and sense , so oft dost plucke , And neuer art encounter'd , I confesse : Nor scarce dost colour for it , which is lesse . Pr'y thee , yet saue thy rest ; giue ore in time : There 's no vexation , that can make thee prime . CXIII . TO SIR THOMAS OVERBVRY . SO PHOEBVS makes me worthy of his bayes , As but to speake thee , OVERBVRY , is praise : So , where thou liu'st , thou mak'st life vnderstood ! Where , what makes others great , doth keepe thee good ! I thinke , the Fate of court thy comming crau'd , That the wit there , and manners might be sau'd : For since , what ignorance , what pride is fled ! And letters , and humanitie in the stead ! Repent thee not of thy faire precedent , Could make such men , and such a place repent : Nor may'any feare , to loose of their degree , Who'in such ambition can but follow thee . CXIIII . TO M rs . PHILIP SYDNEY . I Must beleeue some miracles still bee When SYDNYES name I heare , or face I see : For CVPID , who ( at first ) tooke vaine delight , In meere out-formes , vntill he lost his sight , Hath chang'd his soule , and made his obiect you : Where finding so much beautie met with vertue , He hath not onely gain'd himselfe his eyes , But , in your loue , made all his seruants wise . CXV . ON THE TOWNES HONEST MAN. YOu wonder , who this is ! and , why I name Him not , aloud , that boasts so good a fame : Naming so many , too ! But , this is one , Suffers no name , but a description : Being no vitious person , but the vice About the towne ; and knowne too , at that price . A subtle thing , that doth affections win By speaking well o' the company'it's in . Talkes loud , and baudy , has a gather'd deale Of newes , and noyse , to sow out a long meale . Can come from Tripoly , leape stooles , and winke , Doe all , that longs to the anarchy of drinke , Except the duell . Can sing songs , and catches ; Giue euery one his dose of mirth : and watches Whose name 's vn-welcome to the present eare , And him it layes on ; if he be not there . Tell 's of him , all the tales , it selfe then makes ; But , if it shall be question'd , vnder-takes , It will deny all ; and forsweare it too : Not that it feares , but will not haue to doo With such a one . And therein keepes it's word . 'T will see it's sister naked , ere a sword . At euery meale , where it doth dine , or sup , The cloth 's no sooner gone , but it gets vp And , shifting of it's faces , doth play more Parts , then th' Italian could doe , with his dore . Acts old Iniquitie , and in the fit Of miming , gets th' opinion of a wit. Executes men in picture . By defect , From friendship , is it's owne fames architect . An inginer , in slanders , of all fashions , That seeming prayses , are , yet accusations . Describ'd , it 's thus : Defin'd would you it haue ? Then , The townes honest Man 's her errant'st knaue . CXVI . TO SIR WILLIAM IEPHSON . IEPHSON , thou man of men , to whose lou'd name All gentrie , yet , owe part of their best flame ! So did thy vertue'enforme , thy wit sustaine That age , when thou stood'st vp the master-braine : Thou wert the first , mad'st merit know her strength , And those that lack'd it , to suspect at length , 'T was not entayl'd on title . That some word Might be found out as good , and not my Lord. That Nature no such difference had imprest In men , but euery brauest was the best : That bloud not mindes , but mindes did bloud adorne : And to liue great , was better , then great borne . These were thy knowing arts : which who doth now Vertuously practise must at least allow Them in , if not , from thee ; or must commit A desperate soloecisme in truth and wit. CXVII . ON GROYNE . GROYNE , come of age , his state sold out of hand For'h is whore : GROYNE doth still occupy his land . CXVIII . ON GVT . GVT eates all day , and lechers all the night , So all his meate he tasteth ouer , twise : And , striuing so to double his delight , He makes himselfe a thorough-fare of vice . Thus , in his belly , can he change a sin Lust it comes out , that gluttony went in . CXIX . TO SIR RAPH SHELTON . NOt he that flies the court for want of clothes , At hunting railes , hauing no guift in othes , Cryes out 'gainst cocking , since he cannot bet , Shuns prease , for two maine causes , poxe , and debt , With me can merit more , then that good man , Whose dice not doing well , to'a pulpit ran , No , SHELTON , giue me thee , canst want all these , But dost it out of iudgement , not disease ; Dar'st breath in any ayre ; and with safe skill , Till thou canst finde the best , choose the least ill . That to the vulgar canst thy selfe apply , Treading a better path , not contrary ; And , in their errors maze , thine owne way know : Which is to liue to conscience , not to show . He , that , but liuing halfe his age , dyes such ; Makes , the whole longer , then 't was giuen him , much . CXX . EPITAPH ON S. P. A CHILD OF Q. EL. CHAPPEL . WEepe with me all you that read This little storie : And know , for whom a teare you shed , Death's selfe is sorry . 'T was a child , that so did thriue In grace , and feature , As Heauen and Nature seem'd to striue Which own'd the creature . Yeeres he numbred scarse thirteene When Fates turn'd cruell , Yet three fill'd Zodiackes had he beene The stages iewell ; And did act ( what now we mone ) Old men so duely , As , sooth , the Parcae thought him one , He plai'd so truely . So , by error , to his fate They all consented ; But viewing him since ( alas , too late ) They haue repented . And haue sought ( to giue new birth ) In bathes to steepe him ; But , being so much too good for earth , Heauen vowes to keepe him . CXXI . TO BENIAMIN RVDYERD . RVDYERD , as lesser dames , to great ones vse , My lighter comes , to kisse thy learned Muse ; Whose better studies while shee emulates , Shee learnes to know long difference of their states . Yet is the office not to be despis'd , If onely loue should make the action pris'd : Nor he , for friendship , to be thought vnfit , That striues , his manners should procede his wit. CXXII . TO THE SAME . IF I would wish , for truth , and not for show , The aged SATVRNE'S age , and rites to know ; If I would striue to bring backe times , and trie The world's pure gold , and wise simplicitie ; If I would vertue set , as shee was yong , And heare her speake with one , and her first tongue ; If holiest friend-ship , naked to the touch , I would restore , and keepe it euer such ; I need no other arts , but studie thee : Who prou'st , all these were , and againe may bee . CXXIII . TO THE SAME . WRiting thy selfe , or iudging others writ , I know not which th' hast most , candor , or wit : But both th' hast so , as who affects the state Of the best writer , and iudge , should emulate . CXXIIII . EPITAPH ON ELIZABETH , L. H. WOuld'st thou heare , what man can say In a little ? Reader , stay . Vnder-neath this stone doth lye As much beautie , as could dye : Which in life did harbour giue To more vertue , then doth liue . If , at all , shee had a fault , Leaue it buryed in this vault . One name was ELIZABETH , Th' other let it sleepe with death : Fitter , where it dyed , to tell , Then that it liu'd at all . Farewell . CXXV . TO SIR WILLIAM VVEDALE . VV'DALE , thou piece of the first times , a man Made for what Nature could , or Vertue can ; Both whose dimensions , lost , the world might finde Restored in thy body , and thy minde ! Who sees a soule , in such a body set , Might loue the treasure for the cabinet . But I , no child , no foole , respect the kinde , The full , the flowing graces there enshrin'd ; Which ( would the world not mis-call't flatterie ) I could adore , almost t'idolatrie . CXXVI . TO HIS LADY , THEN M rs . CARY . REtyr'd , with purpose your faire worth to praise , 'Mongst Hampton shades , and PHOEBVS groue of bayes , I pluck'd a branch ; the iealous god did frowne , And bad me lay th' vsurped laurell downe : Said I wrong'd him , and ( which was more ) his loue . I answer'd , DAPHNE now no paine can proue . PHOEBVS replyed . Bold head , it is not shee : CARY my loue is , DAPHNE but my tree . CXXVII . TO ESME , LORD ' AVBIGNY . IS there a hope , that Man would thankefull bee , If I should faile , in gratitude , to thee To whom I am so bound , lou'd AVBIGNY ? No , I doe , therefore , call Posteritie Into the debt ; and reckon on her head , How full of want , how swallow'd vp , how dead I , and this Muse had beene , if thou hadst not Lent timely succours , and new life begot : So , all reward , or name , that growes to mee By her attempt , shall still be owing thee . And , than this same , I know no abler way To thanke thy benefits : which is , to pay . CXXVIII . TO WILLIAM ROE . ROE ( and my ioy to name ) th' art now , to goe Countries , and climes , manners , and men to know , T'extract , and choose the best of all these knowne , And those to turne to bloud , and make thine owne : May windes as soft as breath of kissing friends , Attend thee hence ; and there , may all thy ends , As the beginnings here , proue purely sweet , And perfect in a circle alwayes meet . So , when we , blest with thy returne , shall see Thy selfe , with thy first thoughts , brought home by thee , We each to other may this voyce enspire ; This is that good AENEAS , past through fire , Through seas , stormes , tempests : and imbarqu'd for hell , Came backe vntouch'd . This man hath trauail'd well . CXXIX . TO MIME . THat , not a paire of friends each other see , But the first question is , when one saw thee ? That there 's no iourney set , or thought vpon , To Braynford , Hackney , Bow , but thou mak'st one ; That scarse the Towne designeth any feast To which thou' rt not a weeke , bespoke a guest ; That still th' art made the suppers flagge , the drum , The very call , to make all others come : Think'st thou , MIME , this is great ? or , that they striue Whose noyse shall keepe thy miming most aliue , Whil'st thou dost rayse some Player , from the graue , Out-dance the Babion , or out-boast the Braue ; Or ( mounted on a stoole ) thy face doth hit On some new gesture , that 's imputed wit ? O , runne not proud of this . Yet , take thy due . Thou dost out-zany COKELY , POD ; nay , Gue : And thine owne CORIAT too . But ( would'st thou see ) Men loue thee not for this : They laugh at thee . CXXX . TO ALPHONSO FERRABOSCO , on his Booke . TO vrge , my lou'd ALPHONSO , that bold fame , Of building townes , and making wilde beasts tame , Which Musick had ; or speake her knowne effects , That shee remoueth cares , sadnesse eiects , Declineth anger , perswades clemencie , Doth sweeten mirth , and heighten pietie , And is t' a body , often , ill inclin'd , No lesse a sou'raigne cure , then to the mind ; T'alledge , that greatest men were not asham'd , Of old , euen by her practise to be fam'd ; To say , indeed , shee were the soule of heauen , That the eight spheare , no lesse , then planets seauen , Mou'd by her order , and the ninth more high , Including all , were thence call'd harmonie : I , yet , had vtter'd nothing on thy part , When these were but the praises of the Art. But when I haue said , the proofes of all these bee Shed in thy Songs ; 't is true : but short of thee . CXXXI . TO THE SAME . WHen we doe giue , ALPHONSO , to the light , A worke of ours , we part with our owne right ; For , then , all mouthes will iudge , and their owne way : The learn'd haue no more priuiledge , then the lay . And though we could all men , all censures heare , We ought not giue them taste , we had an eare . For , if the hum'rous world will talke at large , They should be fooles , for me , at their owne charge . Say , this , or that man they to thee preferre ; Euen those for whom they doe this , know they erre : And would ( being ask'd the truth ) ashamed say , They were not to be nam'd on the same day . Then stand vnto thy selfe , not seeke without For fame , with breath soone kindled , soone blowne out . CXXXII . TO Mr. IOSVAH SYLVESTER . IF to admire were to commend my praise Might then both thee , thy worke and merit raise : But , as it is ( the Child of Ignorance , And vtter stranger to all ayre of France ) How can I speake of thy great paines , but erre ? Since they can only iudge , that can conferre . Behold ! the reuerend shade of BARTAS stands Before my thought , and ( in thy right ) commands That to the world I publish , for him ▪ this ; BARTAS doth wish thy English now were his . So well in that are his inuentions wrought , As his will now be the translation thought , Thine the originall ; and France shall boast , No more , those mayden glories shee hath lost . CXXXIII . ON THE FAMOVS VOYAGE . NO more let Greece her bolder fables tell Of HERCVLES , or THESEVS going to hell , ORPHEVS , VLYSSES : or the Latine Muse , With tales of Troyes iust knight , our faiths abuse : We haue a SHELTON , and a HEYDEN got , Had power to act , what they to faine had not . All , that they boast of STYX , of ACHERON , COCYTVS , PHLEGETON , our haue prou'd in one ; The filth , stench , noyse : saue only what was there Subtly distinguish'd , was confused here . Their wherry had no saile , too ; ours had none : And in it , two more horride knaues , then CHARON . Arses were heard to croake , in stead of frogs ; And for one CERBERVS , the whole coast was dogs . Furies there wanted not : each scold was ten . And , for the cryes of Ghosts , women , and men , Laden with plague-sores , and their sinnes , were heard , Lash'd by their consciences , to die , affeard . Then let the former age , with this content her , Shee brought the Poets forth , but ours th'aduenter . THE VOYAGE IT SELFE . I Sing the braue aduenture of two wights , And pitty 't is , I cannot call 'hem knights : One was ; and he , for brawne , and braine , right able To haue beene stiled of King ARTHVRS table . The other was a squire , of faire degree ; But , in the action , greater man then hee : Who gaue , to take at his returne from Hell , His three for one . Now , lordings , listen well . It was the day , what time the powerfull Moone Makes thee poore Banck-side creature wet it'shoone , In it'owne hall ; when these ( in worthy scorne Of those , that put out moneyes , on returne From Venice , Paris , or some in-land passage Of sixe times to , and fro , without embassage , Or him that backward went to Berwicke , or which Did dance the famous Morrisse , vnto Norwich ) At Bread-streets Mermaid , hauing din'd , and merry , Propos'd t● goe to Hol'borne in a wherry : A harder tasque , then either his to Bristo ' , Or his to Antwerpe . Therefore , once more , list ho' . A Docke there is , that called is AVERNVS , Of some Bride-well , and may , in time , concerne vs All , that are readers : but , me thinkes 't is od , That all this while I haue forgot some god , Or goddesse to inuoke , to stuffe my verse ; And with both bombard-stile , and phrase , rehearse The many perills of this Port , and how ▪ Sans'helpe of SYBIL , or a golden bough , Or magick sacrifice , they past along ! ALCIDES , be thou succouring to my song . Thou hast seene hell ( some say ) and know'st all nookes there , Canst tell me best , how euery Furie lookes there , And art a god , if Fame thee not abuses , Alwayes at hand , to aide the merry Muses . Great Club-fist , though thy backe , and bones be sore , Still , with thy former labours ; yet , once more , Act a braue worke , call it thy last aduentry : But hold my torch , while I describe the entry To this dire passage . Say , thou stop thy nose : 'T is but light paines : Indeede this Dock's no rose . In the first iawes appear'd that vgly monster , Ycleped Mud , which , when their oares did once stirre , Belch'd forth an ayre , as hot , as at the muster Of all your night-tubs , when the carts doe cluster , Who shall discharge first his merd-vrinous load : Thorough her wombe they make their famous road , Betweene two walls ; where , on one side to scar men , Were seene your vgly Centaures , yee call Car-men , Gorgonian scolds , and Harpyes : on the other Hung stench , diseases , and old filth , their mother , With famine , wants , and sorrowes many a dosen , The least of which was to the plague a cosen . But they vnfrighted passe , though many a priuie Spake to 'hem louder , then the oxe in LIVIE ; And many a sinke pour'd out her rage anenst'hem ; But still their valour , and their vertue fenc't 'hem , And , on they went , like CASTOR braue , and POLLVX : Ploughing the mayne . When , see ( the worst of all lucks ) They met the second Prodigie , would feare a Man , that had neuer heard of a Chimaera . One said , it was bold BRIAREVS , or the beadle , ( Who hath the hundred hands when he doth meddle ) The other thought it HYDRA , or the rock Made of the trull , that cut her fathers lock : But , comming neere , they found it but a liter , So huge , it seem'd , they could by no meanes quite her . Backe , cry'd their brace of CHARONS : they cry'd , no , No going backe ; on still you rogues , and row . Of Hol'borne ( three sergeants heads ) lookes ore , And stayes but till you come vnto the dore ! Tempt not his furie , PLVTO is away : And MADAME CAESAR , great PROSERPINA , Is now from home . You lose your labours quite , Were you IOVE'S sonnes , or had ALCIDES might . They cry'd out PVSSE . He told them he was BANKES , That had , so often , shew'd 'hem merry prankes . They laugh't , at his laugh-worthy fate . And past The tripple head without a sop . At last , Calling for RADAMANTHVS , that dwelt by , A sope-boyler ; and AEACVS him nigh , Who kept an ale-house ; with my little MINOS , An ancient pur-blinde fletcher , with a high nose ; They tooke 'hem all to witnesse of their action : And so went brauely backe , without protraction . In memorie of which most liquid deed , The citie since hath rais'd a Pyramide . And I could wish for their eterniz'd sakes , My Muse had plough'd with his , that sung A-IAX .

THE FORREST . I. WHY I WRITE NOT OF LOVE . SOme act of Loue 's bound to reherse , I thought to binde him , in my verse : Which when he felt , Away ( quoth hee ) Can Poets hope to fetter mee ? It is enough , they once did get MARS , and my Mother , in their net : I weare not these my wings in vaine . With which he fled me : and againe , Into my ri'mes could ne're be got By any a●te . Then wonder not , That 〈◊〉 , my numbers are so cold , When Loue is fled , and I grow old . II. TO PENSHVRST . THou art not , PENSHVRST , built to enuious show , Of touch , or marble ; nor canst boast a row Of polish'd pillars , or a roofe of gold : Thou hast no lantherne , whereof tales are told ; Or stayre , or courts ; but stand'st an ancient pile , And these grudg'd at , art reuerenc'd the while . Thou ioy'st in better markes , of soyle , of ayre , Of wood , of water : therein thou art faire . Thou hast thy walkes for health , as well as sport : Thy Mount , to which the Dryads doe resort , Where PAN , and BACCHVS their high feasts haue made , Beneath the broad beech , and the chest-nut shade ; That taller tree , which of a nut was set , At his great birth , where all the Muses met . There , in the writhed barke , are cut the names Of many a SYLVANE , taken with his flames . And thence , the ruddy Satyres oft prouoke The lighter Faunes , to reach thy Ladies oke . Thy copp's , too , nam'd of GAMAGE , thou hast there , That neuer failes to serue thee season'd deere , When thou would'st feast , or exercise thy friends . The lower land , that to the riuer bends , Thy sheepe , thy bullocks , kine , and calues doe feed : The middle grounds thy mares , and horses breed . Each banke doth yeeld thee coneyes ; and the topps Fertile of wood , ASHORE , and SYDNEY'S copp's , To crowne thy open table , doth prouide The purpled pheasant , with the speckled side : The painted partrich lyes in euery field , And , for thy messe , is willing to be kill'd . And if the high swolne Medway faile thy dish , Thou hast thy ponds , that pay thee tribute fish , Fat , aged carps , that runne into thy net . And pikes , now weary their owne kinde to eat , As loth , the second draught , or cast to stay , Officiously , at first , themselues betray . Bright eeles , that emulate them , and leape on land , Before the fisher , or into his hand . Then hath thy orchard fruit , thy garden flowers , Fresh as the ayre , and new as are the houres . The earely cherry , with the later plum , Fig , grape , and quince , each in his time doth come : The blushing apricot , and woolly peach Hang on thy walls , that euery child may reach . And though thy walls be of the countrey stone , They' are rear'd with no mans ruine , no mans grone , There 's none , that dwell about them , wish them downe ; But all come in , the farmer , and the clowne : And no one empty-handed , to salute Thy lord , and lady , though they haue no sute . Some bring a capon , some a rurall cake , Some nuts , some apples ; some that thinke they make The better cheeses , bring 'hem ; or else send By their ripe daughters , whom they would commend This way to husbands ; and whose baskets beare An embleme of themselues , in plum , or peare . But what can this ( more then expresse their loue ) Adde to thy fr●e prouisions , farre aboue The neede of such ? whose liberall boord doth flow , With all , that hospitalitie doth know ! Where comes no guest , but is allow'd to eate , Without his feare , and of thy lords owne meate : Where the same beere , and bread , and selfe-same wine , That is his Lordships , shall be also mine . And I not faine to sit ( as some , this day , At great mens tables ) and yet dine away . Here no man tells my cups ; nor , standing by , A waiter , doth my gluttony enuy : But giues me what I call , and lets me eate , He knowes , below , he shall finde plentie of meate , Thy tables hoord not vp for the next day , Nor , when I take my lodging , need I pray For fire , or lights , or liuorie : all is there ; As if thou , then , wert mine , or I raign'd here : There 's nothing I can wish , for which I stay . That found King IAMES , when hunting late , this way , With his braue sonne , the Prince , they saw thy fires Shine bright on euery harth as the desires Of thy Penates had beene set on flame , To entertayne them ; or the countrey came , With all their zeale , to warme their welcome here . What ( great , I will not say , but ) sodayne cheare Did'st thou , then , make 'hem ! and what praise was heap'd On thy good lady , then ! who , therein , reap'd The iust reward of her high huswifery ; To haue her linnen , plate , and all things nigh , When shee was farre : and not a roome , but drest , As if it had expected such a guest ! These , PENSHVRST , are thy praise , and yet not all . Thy lady's noble , fruitfull , chaste withall . His children thy great lord may call his owne : A fortune , in this age , but rarely knowne . They are , and haue beene taught religion : Thence Their gentler spirits haue suck'd innocence . Each morne , and euen , they are taught to pray , With the whole houshold , and may , euery day , Reade , in their vertuous parents noble parts , The mysteries of manners , armes , and arts . Now , PENSHVRST , they that will proportion thee With other edifices , when they see Those proud , ambitious heaps , and nothing else , May say , their lords haue built , but thy lord dwells . III. TO SIR ROBERT WROTH . HOw blest art thou , canst loue the countrey , WROTH , Whether by choice , or fate , or both ; And , though so neere the citie , and the court , Art tane with neithers vice , nor sport : That at great times , art no ambitious guest Of Sheriffes dinner , or Maiors feast . Nor com'st to view the better cloth of state ; The richer hangings , or crowne-plate ; Nor throng'st ( when masquing is ) to haue a sight Of the short brauerie of the night ; To view the iewells , stuffes , the paines , the wit There wasted , some not paid for yet ! But canst , at home , in thy securer rest , Liue , with vn-bought prouision blest ; Free from proud porches , or their guilded roofes , 'Mongst loughing heards , and solide hoofes : Along'st the curled woods , and painted meades , Through which a serpent riuer leades To some coole , courteous shade , which he calls his , And makes sleepe softer then it is ! Or , if thou list the night in watch to breake , A-bed canst heare the loud stag speake , In spring , oft roused for thy masters sport , Who , for it , makes thy house his court ; Or with thy friends ; the heart of all the yeere , Diuid'st , vpon the lesser Deere ; In autumne , at the Partrich makes a flight , And giu'st thy gladder guests the sight ; And , in the winter , hunt'st the flying hare , More for thy exercise , then fare ; While all , that follow , their glad eares apply To the full greatnesse of the cry : Or hauking at the riuer , or the bush , Or shooting at the greedie thrush , Thou dost with some delight the day out-weare , Although the coldest of the yeere ! The whil'st , the seuerall seasons thou hast seene Of flowrie fields , of cop'ces greene , The mowed meddowes , with the fleeced sheepe , And feasts , that either shearers keepe ; The ripened eares , yet humble in their height , And furrowes laden with their weight ; The apple-haruest , that doth longer last ; The hogs return'd home fat from mast ; The trees cut out in log ; and those boughes made A fire now , that lend a shade ! Thus PAN , and SYLVANE , hauing had their rites , COMVS puts in , for new delights ; And fills thy open hall with mirth , and cheere , As if in SATVRNES raigne it were ; APOLLO'S harpe , and HERMES lyre resound , Nor are the Muses strangers found : The rout of rurall folke come thronging in , ( Their rudenesse then is thought no sinne ) Thy noblest spouse affords them welcome grace ; And the great Heroes , of her race , Sit mixt with losse of state , or reuerence . Freedome doth with degree dispense . The iolly wassall walkes the often round , And in their cups , their cares are drown'd : They thinke not , then , which side the cause shall leese , Nor how to get the lawyer fees . Such , and no other was that age , of old , Which boasts t' haue had the head of gold . And such since thou canst make thine owne content , Striue , WROTH , to liue long innocent . Let others watch in guiltie armes , and stand The furie of a rash command , Goe enter breaches , meet the cannons rage , That they may sleepe with scarres in age . And shew their feathers shot , and cullors torne , And brag , that they were therefore borne . Let this man sweat , and wrangle at the barre , For euery price , in euery iarre , And change possessions , oftner with his breath , Then either money , warre , or death : Let him , then hardest sires , more disinherit , And each where boast it as his merit , To blow vp orphanes , widdowes , and their states ; And thinke his power doth equall Fates . Let that goe heape a masse of wretched wealth , Purchas'd by rapine , worse then stealth , And brooding o're it sit , with broadest eyes , Not doing good , scarce when he dyes . Let thousands more goe flatter vice , and winne , By being organes to great sinne , Get place , and honor , and be glad to keepe The secrets , that shall breake their sleepe : And , so they ride in purple , eate in plate , Though poyson , thinke it a great fate . But thou , my WROTH , if I can truth apply , Shalt neither that , nor this enuy : Thy peace is made ; and , when man's state is well , 'T is better , if he there can dwell . God wisheth , none should wracke on a strange shelfe : To him , man 's dearer , then t 'himselfe . And , howsoeuer we may thinke things sweet , He alwayes giues what he knowes meet ; Which who can vse is happy : Such be thou . Thy morning's , and thy euening 's vow Be thankes to him , and earnest prayer , to finde A body sound , with sounder minde ; To doe thy countrey seruice , thy selfe right ; That neither want doe thee affright , Nor death ; but when thy latest sand is spent , Thou maist thinke life , a thing but lent . IIII. TO THE WORLD . A farewell for a Gentle-woman , vertuous and noble . FAlse world , good-night : since thou hast brought That houre vpon my morne of age , Hence-forth I quit thee from my thought , My part is ended on thy stage . Doe not once hope , that thou canst tempt A spirit so resolu'd to tread Vpon thy throate , and liue exempt From all the nets that thou canst spread . I know thy formes are studyed arts , Thy subtle wayes , be narrow straits ; Thy curtesie but sodaine starts , And what thou call'st thy gifts are baits . I know too , though thou strut , and paint , Yet art thou both shrunke vp , and old , That onely fooles make thee a saint , And all thy good is to be sold. I know thou whole art but a shop Of toyes , and trifles , traps , and snares , To take the weake , or make them stop : Yet art thou falser then thy wares . And , knowing this , should I yet stay , Like such as blow away their liues , And neuer will redeeme a day , Enamor'd of their golden gyues ? Or , hauing scap'd , shall I returne , And thrust my necke into the noose , From whence , so lately , I did burne , With all my powers , my selfe to loose ? What bird , or beast , is knowne so dull , That fled his cage , or broke his chaine , And tasting ayre , and freedome , wull Render his head in there againe ? If these , who haue but sense , can shun The engines , that haue them annoy'd ; Little , for me , had reason done , If I could not thy ginnes auoyd . Yes , threaten , doe . Alas I feare As little , as I hope from thee : I know thou canst nor shew , nor beare More hatred , then thou hast to mee . My tender , first , and simple yeeres Thou did'st abuse , and then betray ; Since stird'st vp iealousies and feares , When all the causes were away . Then , in a soile hast planted me , Where breathe the basest of thy fooles ; Where enuious arts professed be , And pride , and ignorance the schooles , Where nothing is examin'd , weigh'd , But , as 't is rumor'd , so beleeu'd : Where euery freedome is betray'd , And euery goodnesse tax'd , or grieu'd . But , what we' are borne for , we must beare : Our fraile condition it is such , That , what to all may happen here , If 't chance to me , I must not grutch . Else , I my state should much mistake , To harbour a diuided thought From all my kinde : that , for my sake , There should a miracle be wrought . No , I doe know , that I was borne To age , misfortune , sicknesse , griefe : But I will beare these , with that scorne , As shall not need thy false reliefe . Nor for my peace will I goe farre , As wandrers doe , that still doe rome , But make my strengths , such as they are , Here in my bosome , and at home . V. Song . TO CELIA . COme my CELIA , let vs proue , While we may , the sports of loue ; Time will not be ours , for euer : He , at length , our good will seuer . Spend not then his guifts in vaine . Sunnes , that set , may rise againe : But if once we loose this light , 'T is , with vs , perpetuall night . Why should we deferre our ioyes ? Fame , and rumor are but toyes . Cannot we delude the eyes Of a few poore houshold spyes ? Or his easier eares beguile , So remoued by our wile ? 'T is no sinne , loues fruit to steale , But the sweet theft to reueale : To be taken , to be seene , These haue crimes accounted beene . VI. TO THE SAME . KIsse me , sweet : The warie louer Can your fauours keepe , and couer , When the common courting iay All your bounties will betray . Kisse againe : no creature comes . Kisse , and score vp wealthy summes On my lips , thus hardly sundred , While you breath . First giue a hundred , Then a thousand , then another Hundred , then vnto the tother Adde a thousand , and so more : Till you equall with the store , All the grasse that Rumney yeelds , Or the sands in Chelsey fields , Or the drops in siluer Thames , Or the starres , that guild his streames , In the silent sommer-nights , When youths ply their stolne delights . That the curious may not know How to tell 'hem , as thy flow , And the enuious , when they find What their number is , be pin'd . VII . Song . THAT WOMEN ARE BVT MENS SHADDOWES . FOllow a shaddow , it still flies you ; Seeme to flye it , it will pursue : So court a mistris , shee denyes you ; Let her alone , shee will court you . Say , are not women truely , then , Stil'd but the shaddowes of vs men ? At morne , and euen , shades are longest ; At noone , they are or short , or none : So men at weakest , they are strongest , But grant vs perfect , they 're not knowne . Say , are not women truely , then , Stil'd but the shaddowes of vs men ? VIII . TO SICKNESSE . WHy , Disease , dost thou molest Ladies ? and of them the best ? Doe not men , ynow of rites To thy altars , by their nights Spent in surfets : and their dayes , And nights too , in worser wayes ? Take heed , Sicknesse , what you doe , I shall feare , you 'll surfet too . Liue not we , as , all thy stalls , Spittles , pest-house , hospitalls , Scarce will take our present store ? And this age will build no more : 'Pray thee , feed contented , then , Sicknesse ; onely on vs men . Or if needs thy lust will tast Woman-kinde ; deuoure the wast Liuers , round about the towne . But , forgiue me , with thy crowne They maintayne the truest trade , And haue more diseases made . What should , yet , thy pallat please ? Daintinesse , and softer case , Sleeked limmes , and finest blood ? If thy leanenesse loue such food , There are those , that , for thy sake , Doe enough ; and who would take Any paines ; yea , thinke it price , To become thy sacrifice . That distill their husbands land In decoctions ; and are mann'd With ten Emp'ricks , in their chamber , Lying for the spirit of amber . That for th' oyle of Talke , dare spend More then citizens dare lend Them , and all their officers . That , to make all pleasure theirs , Will by coach , and water goe , Euery stew in towne to know ; Dare entayle their loues on any , Bald , or blinde , or nere so many : And , for thee , at common game , Play away , health , wealth , and fame . These , disease , will thee deserue : And will , long ere thou should'st starue On their beds , most prostitute , Moue it , as their humblest sute , In thy iustice to molest None but them , and leaue the rest . IX . Song . TO CELIA . DRrinke to me , onely , with thine eyes , And I will pledge with mine ; Or leaue a kisse but in the cup , And I le not looke for wine . The thirst , that from the soule doth rise , Doth aske a drinke diuine : But might I of IOVE'S Nectar sup , I would not change for thine . I sent thee , late , a rosie wreath , Not so much honoring thee , As giuing it a hope , that there It could not withered bee . But thou thereon did'st onely breath , And sent'st it backe to mee : Since when it growes , and smells , I sweare , Not of it selfe , but thee . X. ANd must I sing ? what subiect shall I chuse ? Or whose great name in Poets heauen vse ? For the more countenance to my actiue Muse ? HERCVLES ? alas his bones are yet sore , With his old earthly labours . T' exact more , Of his dull god-head , were sinne . I le implore PHOEBVS . No ? tend thy cart still . Enuious day Shall not giue out , that I haue made thee stay , And foundred thy hot teame , to tune my lay . Nor will I beg of thee , Lord of the vine , To raise my spirits with thy coniuring wine , In the greene circle of thy Iuy twine . PALLAS , nor thee I call on , mankinde maid , That , at thy birth , mad'st the poore Smith affraid , Who , with his axe , thy fathers mid-wife plaid . Goe , crampe dull MARS , light VENVS , when he snorts , Or , with thy Tribade trine , inuent new sports , Thou , nor thy loosenesse with my making sorts . Let the old boy , your sonne , ply his old taske , Turne the stale prologue to some painted maske , His absence in my verse , is all I aske . HERMES , the cheater , shall not mixe with vs , Though he would steale his sisters PAGASVS , And riffle him : or pawne his PETASVS . Nor all the ladies of the Thespian lake , ( Though they were crusht into one forme ) could make A beautie of that merit , that should take My Muse vp by commission : No , I bring My owne true fire . Now my thought takes wing , And now an Epode to deepe eares I sing . XI . EPODE . NOt to know vice at all , and keepe true state , Is vertue , and not Fate : Next , to that vertue , is to know vice well , And her blacke spight expell . Which to effect ( since no brest is so sure , Or safe , but shee 'll procure Some way of entrance ) we must plant a guard Of thoughts to watch , and ward At th' eye and eare ( the ports vnto the minde ) That no strange , or vnkinde Obiect arriue there , but the heart ( our spie ) Giue knowledge instantly , To wakefull reason , our affections king : Who ( in th'examining ) Will quickly taste the treason , and commit Close , the close cause of it . T is the securest policie we haue , To make our sense our slaue . But this true course is not embrac'd by many : By many ? scarse by any . For either our affections doe rebell , Or else the sentinell ( That should ring larum to the heart ) doth sleepe , Or some great thought doth keepe Backe the intelligence , and falsely sweares , Th' are base , and idle feares Whereof the loyall conscience so complaines . Thus , by these subtle traines , Doe seuerall passions inuade the minde , And strike our reason blinde . Of which vsurping rancke , some haue thought loue The first ; as proue to moue Most frequent tumults , horrors , and vnrests , In our enflamed brests : But this doth from the cloud of error grow , Which thus we ouer-blow . The thing , they here call Loue , is blinde Desire , Arm'd with bow , shafts , and fire ; Inconstant , like the sea , of whence 't is borne , Rough , swelling , like a storme : With whom who sailes , rides on the surge of feare , And boyles , as if he were In a continuall tempest . Now , true Loue No such effects doth proue ; That is an essence , farre more gentle , fine , Pure , perfect , nay diuine ▪ It is a golden chaine let downe from heauen , Whose linkes are bright , and euen . That falls like sleepe on louers , and combines The soft , and sweetest mindes In equall knots : This beares no brands , nor darts , To murther different hearts , But , in a calme , and god-like vnitie , Preserues communitie . O , who is he , that ( in this peace ) enioyes Th' Elixir of all ioyes ? A forme more fresh , then are the Eden bowers And lasting , as her flowers : Richer then Time , and as Time's vertue , rare . Sober , as saddest care : A sixed thought , an eye vn-taught to glance ; Who ( blest with such high chance ) Would , at suggestion of a steepe desire , Cast himselfe from the spire Of all his happinesse ? But soft : I heare Some vicious foole draw neare , That cryes , we dreame , and sweares , there 's no such thing , As this chaste loue we sing . Peace Luxurie , thou art like one of those Who , being at sea , suppose , Because they moue , the continent doth so : No , vice , we let thee know Though thy wild thoughts with sparrowes wings doe flye , Turtles can chastly dye ; And yet ( in this t' expresse our selues more cleare ) We doe not number , here , Such spirits as are onely continent , Because lust's meanes are spent : Or those , who doubt the common mouth of fame , And for their place , and name , Cannot so safely sinne . Their chastitie Is meere necessitie . Nor meane we those , whom vowes and conscience Haue fill'd with abstinence : Though we acknowledge , who can so abstayne , Makes a most blessed gayne . He that for loue of goodnesse hateth ill , Is more crowne-worthy still , Then he , which for sinnes penaltie forbeares . His heart sinnes , though he feares . But we propose a person like our Doue , Grac'd with a Phoenix loue ; A beautie of that cleere , and sparkling light , Would make a day of night , And turne the blackest sorrowes to bright ioyes : Whose od'rous breath destroyes All taste of bitternesse , and makes the ayre As sweet , as shee is fayre . A body so harmoniously compos'd , As if Nature disclos'd All her best symmetrie in that one feature ! O , so diuine a creature Who could be false to ? chiefly , when he knowes How onely shee bestowes The wealthy treasure of her loue on him ; Making his fortunes swim In the full floud of her admir'd perfection ? What sauage , brute affection , Would not be fearefull to offend a dame Of this excelling frame ? Much more a noble , and right generous mind ( To vertuous moods inclin'd ) That knowes the waight of guilt : He will refraine From thoughts of such a straine . And to his sense obiect this sentence euer , Man may securely sinne , but safely neuer . XII . Epistle TO ELIZABETH COVNTESSE OF RVTLAND . MADAME , WHil'st that , for which , all vertue now is sold , And almost euery vice , almightie gold , That which , to boote with hell , is thought worth heauen , And , for it , life , conscience , yea , soules are giuen , Toyles , by graue custome , vp and downe the court , To euery squire , or groome , that will report Well , or ill , onely , all the following yeere , Iust to the waight their this dayes-presents beare ; While it makes huishers seruiceable men , And some one apteth to be trusted , then , Though neuer after ; whiles it gaynes the voyce Of some grand peere , whose ayre doth make reioyce The foole that gaue it ; who will want , and weepe , When his proud patrons fauours are asleepe ; While thus it buyes great grace , and hunts poore fame ; Runs betweene man , and man ; 'tweene dame , and dame ; Solders crackt friendship ; makes loue last a day ; Or perhaps lesse : whil'st gold beares all this sway , I , that haue none ( to send you ) send you verse . A present , which ( if elder writs reherse The truth of times ) was once of more esteeme , Then this , our guilt , nor golden age can deeme , When gold was made no weapon to cut throtes , Or put to flight ASTREA , when her ingots Were yet vnfound , and better plac'd in earth , Then , here , to giue pride fame , and peasants birth . But let this drosse carry what price it will With noble ignorants , and let them still , Turne , vpon scorned verse , their quarter-face : With you , I know , my offring will find grace . For what a sinne 'gainst your great fathers spirit , Were it to thinke , that you should not inherit His loue vnto the Muses , when his skill Almost you haue , or may haue , when you will ? Wherein wise Nature you a dowrie gaue , Worth an estate , treble to that you haue . Beautie , I know , is good , and bloud is more ; Riches thought most : But , Madame , thinke what store The world hath seene , which all these had in trust , And now lye lost in their forgotten dust . It is the Muse , alone , can raise to heauen , And , at her strong armes end , hold vp , and euen , The soules , shee loues . Those other glorious notes , Inscrib'd in touch or marble , or the cotes Painted , or caru'd vpon our great-mens tombs , Or in their windowes ; doe but proue the wombs , That bred them , graues : when they were borne , they di'd , That had no Muse to make their fame abide . How many equall with the Argiue Queene , Haue beautie knowne , yet none so famous seene ? ACHILLES was not first , that valiant was , Or , in an armies head , that , lockt in brasse , Gaue killing strokes . There were braue men , before AIAX , or IDOMEN , or all the store , That HOMER brought to Troy ; yet none so liue : Because they lack'd the sacred pen , could giue Like life vnto ' hem . Who heau'd HERCVLES Vnto the starres ? or the Tyndarides ? Who placed IASONS ARGO in the skie ? Or set bright ARIADNES crowne so high ? Who made a lampe of BERENICES hayre ? Or lifted CASSIOPEA in her chayre ? But onely Poets , rapt with rage diuine ? And such , or my hopes faile , shall make you shine . You , and that other starre , that purest light , Of all LVCINA'S traine ; LVCY the bright . Then which , a nobler heauen it selfe knowes not . Who , though shee haue a better verser got , ( Or Poet , in the court account ) then I , And , who doth me ( though I not him ) enuy , Yet , for the timely fauours shee hath done , To my lesse sanguine Muse , wherein she'hath wonne My gratefull soule , the subiect of her powers , I haue already vs'd some happy houres , To her remembrance ; which when time shall bring To curious light , to notes , I then shall sing , Will proue old ORPHEVS act no tale to be ▪ For I shall moue stocks , stones , no lesse then he . Then all , that haue but done my Muse least grace , Shall thronging come , and boast the happy place They hold in my strange poems , which , as yet , Had not their forme touch'd by an English wit. There like a rich , and golden pyramede , Borne vp by statues , shall I reare your head , Aboue your vnder carued ornaments , And show , how , to the life , my soule presents Your forme imprest there : not with tickling rimes , Or common places , filch'd , that take these times , But high , and noble matter , such as flies From braines entranc'd , and fill'd with extasies ; Moodes , which the god-like SYDNEY oft did proue , And your braue friend , and mine so well did loue . Who wheresoere he be ........ The rest is lost . XIII . Epistle . TO KATHERINE , LADY AVBIGNY : 'T Is growne almost a danger to speake true Of any good minde , now : There are so few . The bad , by number , are so fortified , As what th 'haue lost t' expect , they dare deride . So both the prais'd , and praisers suffer : Yet , For others ill , ought none their good forget . I , therefore , who professe my selfe in loue With euery vertue , wheresoere it moue , And howsoeuer ; as I am at fewd With sinne and vice , though with a throne endew'd ; And , in this name , am giuen out dangerous By arts , and practise of the vicious , Such as suspect them-selues , and thinke it fit For their owne cap'tall crimes , t' indite my wit ; I , that haue suffer'd this ; and , though forsooke Of Fortune , haue not alter'd yet my looke , Or so my selfe abandon'd , as because Men are not iust , or keepe no holy lawes Of nature , and societie , I should faint ; Or feare to draw true lines , 'cause others paint ▪ I , Madame , am become your praiser . Where , If it may stand with your soft blush to heare , Your selfe but told vnto your selfe , and see In my character , what your features bee , You will not from the paper slightly passe : No lady , but , at some time , loues her glasse . And this shall be no false one , but as much Remou'd , as you from need to haue it such . Looke then , and see your selfe . I will not say Your beautie ; for you see that euery day : And so doe many more . All which can call It perfect , proper , pure , and naturall ▪ Not taken vp o'th'doctors , but as well As I , can say , and see it doth excell . That askes but to be censur'd by the eyes : And , in those outward formes , all fooles are wise . Nor that your beautie wanted not a dower , Doe I reflect . Some alderman has power , Or cos'ning farmer of the customes so , T' aduance his doubtfull issue , and ore-flow A Princes fortune : These are gifts of chance , And raise not vertue ; they may vice enhance . My mirror is more subtile , cleere , refin'd , And takes , and giues the beauties of the mind . Though it reiect not those of FORTVNE : such As bloud , and match . Wherein , how more then much Are you engaged to your happy fate , For such a lot ! that mixt you with a state Of so great title , birth , but vertue most , Without which , all the rest were sounds , or lost . 'T is onely that can time , and chance defeat : For he , that once is good , is euer great . Wherewith , then , Madame , can you better pay This blessing of your starres , then by that way Of vertue , which you tread ? what if alone ? Without companions ? 'T is safe to haue none . In single paths , dangers with ease are watch'd : Contagion in the prease is soonest catch'd . This makes , that wisely you decline your life , Farre from the maze of custome , error , strife , And keepe an euen , and vnalter'd gaite ; Not looking by , or backe ( like those , that waite Times , and occasions , to start forth , and seeme ) Which though the turning world may dis-esteeme , Because that studies spectacles , and showes , And after varyed , as fresh obiects goes , Giddie with change , and therefore cannot see Right , the right way : yet must your comfort bee Your conscience , and not wonder , if none askes For truthes complexion , where they all weare maskes . Let who will follow fashions , and attyres , Maintayne their liedgers forth , for forraine wyres , Melt downe their husbands land , to poure away On the close groome , and page , on new-yeeres day , And almost , all dayes after , while they liue ; ( They finde it both so wittie , and safe to giue . ) Let 'hem on poulders , oyles , and paintings , spend , Till that no vsurer , nor his bawds dare lend Them , or their officers : and no man know , Whether it be a face they weare , or no. Let 'hem waste body , and state ; and after all , When their owne Parasites laugh at their fall , May they haue nothing left , whereof they can Boast , but how oft they haue gone wrong to man : And call it their braue sinne . For such there be That doe sinne onely for the infamie : And neuer thinke , how vice doth euery houre , Eate on her clients , and some one deuoure . You , Madame , yong haue learn'd to shunne these shelues , Whereon the most of mankinde wracke themselues , And , keeping a iust course , haue earely put Into your harbor , and all passage shut 'Gainst stormes , or pyrats , that might charge your peace ; For which you worthy are the glad encrease Of your blest wombe , made fruitfull from aboue , To pay your lord the pledges of chast loue : And raise a noble stemme , to giue the fame , To CLIFTON'S bloud , that is deny'd their name . Grow , grow , faire tree , and as thy branches shoote , Heare , what the Muses sing about thy roote , By me , their priest ( if they can ought diuine ) Before the moones haue fill'd their tripple trine , To crowne the burthen which you goe withall , It shall a ripe and timely issue fall , XV. TO HEAVEN . GOod , and great GOD , can I not thinke of thee , But it must , straight , my melancholy bee ? Is it interpreted in me disease , That , laden with my sinnes , I seeke for ease ? O , be thou witnesse , that the reynes dost know , And hearts of all , if I be sad for show , And iudge me after : if I dare pretend To ought but grace , or ayme at other end . As thou art all , so be thou all to mee , First , midst , and last , conuerted one , and three ; My faith , my hope , my loue : and in this state , My iudge , my witnesse , and my aduocate . Where haue I beene this while exil'd from thee ? And whither rap'd , now thou but stoup'st to mee ? Dwell , dwell here still : O , being euery-where , How can I doubt to finde thee euer , here ? I know my state , both full of shame , and scorne , Conceiu'd in sinne , and vnto labour borne , Standing with feare , and must with horror fall , And destin'd vnto iudgement after all . I feele my griefes too , and there scarce is ground , Vpon my flesh t' inflict another wound . Yet dare I not complaine , or wish for death With holy PAVL , lest it be thought the breath Of discontent ; or that these prayers bee For wearinesse of life , not loue of thee . THE END .

The text of PART OF THE KINGS ENTERTAINMENT IN PASSING TO his Coronation. from Jonson's Works is not included in the EarlyPrint corpus The text of A PANEGYRE, ON THE HAPPIE ENTRANCE OF IAMES, OVR SOVERAIGNE, TO His first high Session of PARLIAMENT in this his Kingdome, the 19. of March, 1603—4. from Jonson's Works is not included in the EarlyPrint corpus The text of Entertainment of the Queen and Prince at Althorp (The Satyr) from Jonson's Works appears in the EarlyPrint corpus as a separate document with the filename A04632_02 The text of The Queen's Masques from Jonson's Worksis not included in the EarlyPrint corpus. An earlier version of the text is included as A04643 with the title The Characters of Two Royal Masques.