An Italians dead bodie, stucke with English flowers elegies, on the death of Sir Oratio Pallauicino.

AN ITALIANS dead bodie , Stucke with English Flowers . Elegies , On the death of Sir Oratio Pallauicino .

LONDON Printee by Thomas Creede , for Andrew Wise , and are to be sold at his shop in Powles Church-yard . 1600.

TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPfull and vertuous , his singular good Lady , the Lady Pallauicino . Theophilus Feild , her deuote seruant , dedicateth these mourning weedes . RIght vertuous , and fayre Lady , may it please Your faire , now slubbred eyes , with weeping long , To take a truce with teares , that whilst you cease To mourne , with which you do your beauty wrong , There may be time for me , for to expresse My losse , which by your losse is comfortlesse , Some comfort may from hence to you arise , ( If it be comfort not to weepe alone ) Oh giue me leaue to speake , that which mine eyes Haue writ in teares , with which my heart doth grone To be deliuered . Loe this child of griefe Seekes vnto you as Nurse for some reliefe : Be a dry Nurse to it , let it not draw From nipples of your eyes one pretious teare , You need not giue it suck , for it can chaw , And what it chawes , his stomacke well will beare : Vphold it not with helping it to mone , 'T is big enough , and now can goe alone . This Infant new borne of my moyster braine , I cloath'd in black , exposing it to view Of many witnesses , some of their traine Not well train'd vp , but of the ruder crew Disroab'd it , robd me , without priuiledge To touch a holy thing is sacriledge . No lesse was this , nay more ( o foule disgrace ) They did not onely touch , but tooke away A holy Poeme from a holy place Vpon a birth , and on a buriall day A mourning , weeping birth day to my vearse , A day of buriall to Horatios hearse . Hence you prophane , what had you there to doo ? Lady my babe was on your alter plac'd , Sacred , deuote , and consecrate to you By your eyes gracious aspect to be grac'd , They were Church robbers who did dare to spoyle The holy labors of an others toyle : After long search and much enquiry made , The lost child by his mother found againe , Who trauailing a new on childbed laide , Seekes vnto you as Nurse to ease her paine , After your cloudes of griefe be ouer blowne , Desires you to adopt him for your owne : His father would be yours , ( for yours he was ) Whilst he belongd to your deceased mate No patron of his poems now he has , And therefore doth them to you dedicate : Loue them for his sake , from whose sorrowed death Halfe dead for sorrow , they haue borrowed breath .

An Italians dead bodie , stucke with English Flowers . The Heraulds office , I le assume to mee , Forward my Muse , chiefe mourner thou shalt bee : Impute it not to pride I for most goe , T is a poore pride , to be the chiefe in woe .

Vpon the death of the Right Worshipfull Knight , his very honourable Patron , Sir Horatio Pallauicino . Verses thrust out by force when teares fell , and followed of their owne accord . NAy spare not Enuy , malice spit thy gall , Say what you can gainst my Horatio , Gainst my Maecenas : be not partiall , Vertue , nor dead , nor liuing , wants a foe . Him liuing , gainst you both I haue defended , He dead , in spight of spight shal be commended : Enuy layes hand on mouth , nay sheare thy teeth , O art thou toothlesse ? she points to the graue , And saith she is buried with him . Dead ▪ and seeth ▪ She win-kes . Nay that is not that we would haue . There needs no winking where there is no error : Looke on this sight , thy sight confounding mirror . Put on thy spectacles and throughly view , We craue no fauour : still she will be blinde , Because that vertue shall not haue her dew , She can no fault , she will nought praise-worth finde . I could saith she , say then and say but sooth , Enuy still hath , though she doth hide her tooth : I for Horatio held my hand at barre , Of what small blemish canst thou him endite ? I haue withdrawne my action , dead men are Dead to the law , who bites that cannot bite ? A dogge . Such is that many headed Cerberus ▪ The common people , whom Horatio fed : Yet could not stop their mouthes . Now woe to vs They cry , and to our staruelings . He is dead Who when with hunger we were all nigh dead , Refreshed and reuiued vs with bread . And yet ( oh how far enuy carrieth men ? ) He carried and transported , stop toong there , Recant a lye , thy words call backe agen . He did transport corne . When ? when corne was deare ? Whither ? to heauen : euen corne of life the staffe , Which when God winowed , he found no chaffe : And for he found no chaffe , he stor'd it vp In his owne garner . Liuor post fata quiescit Virtutem incolumem odimus Sublatam ex oculis quaerimus inuidi . Theophil . Feild .

Vpon the same . PAtrons and Poets haue bene alwaies scant , Is now there number then encreased ▪ no ▪ Shall dead Augustus then a Virgil want ▪ Oh for a Horace for Horatio , Horatio , Maecaenas call him rather , Or if ye will , the Muses foster father . Rimesters , enough , enough can make a song , A Ballot , or such like , and thereunto Annex a wofull tune : they do thee wrong Apollo , and thy true borne sonnes vndo . For why are Poets clogd with pouertie ▪ Because these bastards imbase poesie . Augustus nor Maecaenas nere till now Were miss'd and wish'd till Horatio dide , In him they died both : the lawrell bough Did wither , as his bodie putrifide . Hence neither Horace , nor a Maro liues , Since Poets are their Patrons relatiues . Deceas'd Augustus liues by liuely vearse Of Maro , Maro liued by his purse : Horace reuiueth his Maecaenas hearse , Whose bountie had bene erst his Muses Nurse . Life giuen for liuing , and bread giuen for breath , Virgil giues most , he giues life after death . How can you spend your treasure better then Then treasuring vp eternall memorie ? ( You muck-wormes of the world , the scorne of men ) This gift is in the gift of poetrie . My Patron was a patterne for you all , Whose fames life is his bodies funerall . Virgil and Horace , I enuy you not For hauing so great Patrons as you had : In poetrie you had a greater lot , Augustus for bad ware so much nere bad , Nere gaue so much . He gaue to Publius A Bakers dole , a boxe to Chaerilus . Bread , bare allowance for lifes sustenance , Dry morsell beggers almes ( necessitie Did aske no more ) more royall maintenance Gaue my Augustus . Superfluitie So thinkes the baser clowne , what 's giuen to vs I meane to Schollers , is superfluous . I Chaerilus , or Poet worse then hee , Had royall Phillips for my quarters pay : Virgil and Horace did deserue their fee , To giue them , is to sell , not giue away . No gift ( to sell for gaine ) but greedinesse , The lesse my worth , the more my worthinesse . I Chaerilus , do pittie Chaerilus , No verse did sound ill to Augustus eare , But Charilus his eare must strait vntrusse Like schoole boy , and his fists correction beare . Are not such Patrons rife ? say Satyrist Who beare in ope hand bread , a stone in fist . Maro be silent in thy Patrons praise , Let Chaerilus Augustus dead fame reare , Commend him for his fist , thy Muse vpraise : As high , as he is arme : a box on the eare , A pox vpon his hand , much kinder they , Who with a flea in eare do send away : It bites not halfe so much , who lookes for more Then flap with Foxe-taile ? nay t is well if so We scape : yet make a crosse vpon his dore , Nere beg more there : O my Horatio ! My patron when I view these Carles in grosse , Thy death presents to me a greater losse : I was a deare , deare plot of ground to thee , I was waste ground , till in a barren field Made fruitfull by thy liberalitie : You sowed and planted , yet I nere did yeeld Better then flowers : in them thou lookest delight Liuing , with them thy deads corpes shall be dight . Sixe winters did thy bountie raine on mee : Sixe sommers with thy Sun-beames ouersplead , So many sommers brought not into thee One haruest : I still green , thou withered Before my fruite be ripe , for I could pay Tithe of thy April shewres , in flowres of May . Would thou hadst liu'd till Pan the shepheards god Had entertained me into his rout , I might haue charm'd mens eares with Arons rod , Shimey his railing toong haue pulled out . Giue vertue her due praise : which neuer liues , Till death to enuy , death and honour giues . Would thou hadst liued till then , and then thy field , For all thy cost and labour would haue paide Some better vse , now onely it doth yeeld Tenne in the hundred , being ouerlaide With too much seed . If teares were spent and all , My Land-lord might haue lost his principall : But I am rich in teares , oh that they could Supple thy withered rootes , reduce thy spring , My earth should turne to water , and I would Weepe Oceans : when I could no longer wring One poore teares sap from fountain of my eies , My heart should be thy tombe , I here he lies . Namque prius timidi pascenter in aethere Cerui Et freta destituent nudos in littore pisces , Ante perratis amborum finibus exul , Aut Ararim Parthus bibet , aut Germania Tigrim Quam nostro illius labatur pectore vultus .

Vpon the same . Death went a rouing for to finde a marke , His day is night , his white is blacke and darke : At last by chaunce a paire of Doues he spide , Who had three louely Pidgions by their side . Fiue louely birds in all , all full of life , Too faire a bootie for so foule a thiefe : His arrow to his bowstring he did fit , And so the biggest and the fairest hit But in the foote , who could not runne away , The other fled , so he seiz'd on his pray : And well they did to flie , for sure he ment T' haue kill'd them all , but missing his intent , He doth excuse his fact , and sayth that hee Meant to kill none , but skare the yoonger three . How comes it then , this faire Doue lost her mate ? He kild him sure for loue and not for hate : For Death indeed with Cupids arrowes dight , Sought the loue shaft , on deadly shaft did light . Why shot he not at her ? He oft did trye , Shee was too glorious obiect for his eye : Had he kild both , I would haue surely thought , That Venus for her chariot had them bought . Yet see not how of price they could agree , Since the two Doues could no way valued bee . Why kild he not the yoong ones ? Oh quoth he , They smil ▪ d vpon me , 't had bene crueltie . Besides ripe fruit ▪ fed foule make death best cheare , As yet yong Pigens out of season were : T is well thou slew'st not them , for on their death , Did hang a fiuefold threed of vitall breath . T is well thou slew'st not her ▪ for had she dy'de , None but death should haue bene his second bryde : And mother to his young ones . So in this Death hath bene mercifull , our comfort is He liues , and still shall liue in his , whom wee Murdred by deaths dead hand suppose to bee . And yet then so liues better , for indeed The cause why this my Doue to heauen did speed , Was this : Ioues Eagle was in some disgrace : This Doue made Eagle does supply his place . The same .

An other . Dead doubtlesse death thinkes Sir Horatio is , But death , deceiu'd , he tooke his markes amis : Two yoong Horatios he hath left behinde , The liuely Image of the fathers minde . In them Horatio liues in spight of death , And shall so long as they on earth draw breath . Good lucke it was : doubtlesse had death them seene , These two fine boyes now liuing had not beene . Your Ladiship he saw : but thought you might Be kild with griefe for your deceased Knight . Deceiue wise Ladie his expectation , In making mone and lamentation . Cheare vp your heart : yet looke still as you cried , And see your pretie sweetings be not spied . The same .

An other . Once Sir Horatio from the Pope did steale , He stole away into our Common-weale : But well and wisely from hence he stole , Where still he liued in perill of his soule . But ill thou didst to steale the second time Away from vs , that was no veniall crime : True it was mortall : death was is in the faut , That stole him hence : for some lookt on & saw 't , Who did their part in making hue and cry , Which forc't the theefe the while forgoe his booty : Yet afterwards he spied his time and sped , Doo what they could that stood then by his bed . I rather thinke he got himselfe away , At least consented to his dying day : Nor can I iustly blame him for his deed , What brought him hither made him hence to speed , His soules estate , which was not at the best , Vntill it came to euerlasting rest . The same .

An other . If when the partie hath penance done , And in a white sheete stood his time , For him that lawe and penaltie will shunne , It is not good once ●o obiect the crime . Deserue not they be taught to rule their tongue , That now he lies lapt in his winding-sheet , Stick not to do that noble Knight such wrong , In saying still ( their doue will with them meet . ) He robd the Pope , did other things beside , Wherein he was the while he liued belide . The same .

Another . A wandring Knight was Sir Horatio , In this , the lowe , and other Countreys mo : He liued and died a straunger with vs here , Why name I where ? that 's neither here nor there . All men on earth they runne a straungers race , Passe on along and haue no biding place . Wherefore Horatio died not for age , He died , because our life 's a Pilgrimage . The same .

An English man Italionate , Becomes a diuell incarnate : But an Italian Anglyfide , Becomes a Saint Angelifide . Ed. Ma. Pemb ▪ Hall .

To the right vertuous ▪ his much honoured Lady , the Lady Pallauicino . THus haue I cloath'd my childe the second time , Because I had no flowers , in mourning weed : Both fields and flowers , and weeds are past their prime , Doo on them all a charitable deed . It lyeth in the flagges exposde , reiected , Vnlesse by your faire hand it be protected . Like Pharo's daughter take it into grace , Though meanly borne , yet brought vp by your hand ▪ It may in time aspire to higher place , And effect wonders by enchaunting wand . It hath alreadie turned earth to water , It may drie vp your sea of teares hereafter . This colour suting to the time I chose , Hoping it might be pretious in your eyes ▪ This blacke , those faire , and that it would expose By foule your fairnesse , as two contraries ( Let them be white and black ) together placed , Are by their opposition ioyntly graced . My book 's a perfect mourner , see it weares Your liuery , and mourneth for your Lord His patron , drops of Inke in steed of teares Haue blubbred his leaues . His strings accord Vnto the mourners fashion , all in all , It goes as they went to the funerall . In this respect you ought to welcome it , That it will be copartner of your griefe : Nor suffer you alone lamenting sit , But mourning with you , giue some reliefe . 'T will tell you , he you mourne for is not dead , But from this country to a better fled . My child I cald it for his infancie , Because it cannot tell his tale of wo As it conceaues : but onely yet can crie , And sound the name of dead Horatio . When it growes troublesome , do you but will it It soone will cease , cease crying and you still it . It onely yet can cry , but when t is growne Able to tell his mind in better words : If you meane while vouchsafe it for to owne , It then shall giue you what his skill affords . Then shall you gather for these weeds I yeeld , A Coal-wort at the hardest in your field . Your Ladiships bounden in all dutie and seruice . Theophilus Feild .

Horatio's departed , so men do say : Great pittie he could here no longer stay . Say hee 's departed , say not hee 's dead : Nor as of others , let of him be sed . He was not quelde , nor conquered of death : But him did combat while he was in breath . His breath him failing , cause he would not fite , He challeng'd death ; and for he has his rite , His body challendg'd : as a challenge gloue He gaue his body : plighting faith to proue , Death in a deadly combat and affray , When the last sound shall call all men away . Till then his soule , aboue , doth heauenly pleasures gaine , Then will his bodie win from death , for aie to raigne . T. S. Pemb.

Horatio's departed , so I heard them say : Pittie he could here no longer stay . Say hee 's departed say not he is dead : But from one place vnto an other sped . Say not of him that he is dead and gone , Say onely he is gone . With company or alone ? His wife and children he hath left behind , Though to haue borne him company was their mind . But thus he thought : a long dead way and ill For them poore soules to go , it would them kill . Alter Idem .

Another . Who sayes Horatio died in his bed He lyes : he died like a dubbed head , He di'd I say like knighthood in the field , Encountring death , which forc't him not to yeeld . I saw the fight : the knight nere shrunk for death , But stoutly stood too 't while he was in breath : When breath him failed , his foe him did confound , With deadly blow he feld him to the ground . A cowards part . Might he haue tooke his winde The knight had liu'd , yea kild I beare the minde : Who dying mindfull of his honor , graspt And held his armes ( men dying vse hold fast ) Nor did his foe out of the field them carry , You saw the Herauld did them with him bury . The same .

Another . A Knight of late death challen'd into field , To fight a combat at sword and shield : The Knight him answer'd as did become , And when they met as I haue heard by some , He felly fought , and stood to 't to the death , He tride it out till he was out of breath . A noble knight , death did him valiant finde , And had the worst while he might fetch his winde . Pittie our life 's no better then a blast , And brauest mind should so be spent at last : When breath him faild , that day was at an end , He ceas'd hi● sword against his foe to bend : And giuing death the glory of that fray , Dar'd him to try ▪ t againe another day : Withall ▪ his corps his challenge for to proue , He cast in steed of gantlet or of gloue , And swore by th' honour of his head he would , Againe recouer what was cast on mould . Death tooke vp one , and vndertooke the other , And bids him poynt both place and places brother : He points the Church-yard , and the latter day , When sound of Trumpe shall batle bid array . The same .

What is t thus many eyes one obiect haue ? And all are bended to yon new made graue . O t is on yonder Corse their eyes are fixt , It sor to see , thus people here are mixt . And as the twinckling diamonds of heauen , When all thing● are of Phaebus light bereuen , B● spred the heauens appearing to our sight , And lend the earth their litle borrowed light : So they all deeming this thrise worthy Knight , Worthy more dayes , his day now turn'd to night ▪ Endeuour to illustrate with their light , In spight of clowdie death to make him bright : They do not looke vpon the fatall bere As most of them afore accustom'd were . His body hauing lost his soule and breath , They say's become a soule vnto the earth : His Coffin is a Coffer as they say , Wherein this wary world thought good to lay This pretious Iewel brought from farther parts , An ornament to Schollers and the Arts. T. S. Pemb.

Horatios Coffin no more it call , Death's Coffin call 't , if ye call 't at all : Wherein he hath laid vp a pretious Pearle , A Noble man , though neither Lord nor Earle . Muse you on earth death would not let him tarrie , Men in the earth their Treasure vse to burie . Alter Idem .

The conquest of two Traitors , Enuie and Death , by the worthy Knight , Sir Horatio Pallauicino . ENuy and Death conspired both togeather , Gainst Sir Horatio , two leane-fac'd fiends , Which euer haunt the best , birds of one feather , Voyd of all loue , that pray vpon their friends . Both qualifi'd alike , both treacherous , Enuy is deadly , death is enuious . Th' one to the body mortall wounds doth giue ▪ The other doth impeach a mans good name : Th' one pines , the other liues by them that liue , Yet fretteth at the liuings liuing fame . Th' one is ( like Sagittarius ) with shafts dight , Th' other ( like Scorpio's venomd teeth ) doth bite . This the conspiracie was which they wrought , That Enuy for his lifes vncertaine lease Should wrack his fame , whose ouerthrow she sought ▪ When death should warning giue , then to surcease ▪ Death vowed not to hasten till that houre , When Enuy on his name should haue no pow're ▪ Enuy who neuer lookt with cheerfull eye , Was glad at this , wishing no longer date Her malice all-bewitching force to try , And exercise her inward-boyling hate . Thinking that sooner heate would fire faile , Then any thing her force abate or quaile . Eftsoones she as impatient of delay , With tooth and nayle endeuor'd to outrace His rising fame ; taking the cause away , Vertue I meane , and good deeds which win grace . Which buildeth vp more high admired fame , Then the Pyramides skye ▪ climing frame . At first an ill opinion she rais'd , ( Oh how much first opinions preuaile ! ) She rent her haire when once she heard him prais'd , And for ones praise , she made a thousand raile . He stole from Rome , he for no goodnesse fled , Coosned the Pope , transported Englands bread . These falsly-bred and misconceiued tayles , Feeble at first , grew too head-strong at length : And flew about more swift then ships full sayles , And by their farther flying got more strength . Thus Enuy had his name in credit plac'd , With others helping mouths well nigh defac'd ▪ But his true vertues beames obscur'd before , In spight of Enuies teeth at last appear'd : And could not be by Enuy hidden more , But his decayed fame againe vprear'd . This sight astonied Enuy , like that head Of Gorgon , caus'd men downe to fall stone-dead . Who to her selfe reuiuing came againe , And seeing his good deeds the more encreast , ( The more his goods deeds , the more Enuies paine ) Could not suppresse them , yet she would not rest But sought alwaies to hinder his intent , Hindring his fame , hindring the good he ment . At last she said , sithence I spent my pow're And can preuaile no more , ere all his fame He do againe recouer in happie howre , Or altogether cleare his blemisht name , Death ( that I cannot ) shorten thou his daies , Least he in time exceed his former praise . Short after , came th' appointed houre by death , When Enuy no more bitter gall could spit : Till then he graunted Sir Horatio breath , Till then he vow'd his body not to hit . Then death approching neare , sawe Enuy stand Stopping his silent mouth with open hand . Has Enuy parbrackt all her poyson than ( Quoth Death ) and cast her tongues three-forked sting ? Vpon no obiect can Detraction scan ? Can Slaunder no more loathsome venome fling ? Enuy repli'd , what I can doe's in vaine , Yet see , by me inflicted scarres remaine . Then ô , then quickly cut him off in time , Ere he can heale scarres vnto his name : Nor let his fame flourish againe in prime , Since I haue labour'd long to staine the same . Still while we talke , his good name doth encrease , And though I cease , his good deeds neuer cease . Death enuious himselfe , by Enuy mou'd Soone condescends , not brooking liuing name : And on his Enuies obiect his force prou'd , Thinking t' haue also nipt his rising fame . Death is deceiu'd ; his rising fame not dies , As he to heauen his rising fame shall rise . P. P. P.

Come dolefull Muse My soule infuse With that death-sounding straine : Which Orpheus playd When he assayd To win his spouse againe . Or let me sing Tun'd to that string Which mournfully he strooke When hellish Ioue Recall'd his loue , As he on her did looke . With Cypresse bowe Engirt thy browe , Thou queene of angry mood ▪ That with thy quill Doest volumes fill Of murders , death , and blood ▪ Thou troope diuine Of virgins nine , Which sing on Parnasse hill : If Castaly With drought be dry , With teares the fountaine fill . Fallen is your starre , Surpassing farre That glorious lampe of light , Whose golden raye Makes brightsome day , Whose frown makes dusky night . Where shall ye finde Mecaenas kinde , To cure poore Horace wo ? Horace must want , ( Sith such be scant As was Horatio . ) This Phaenix-doue Religions loue Made flie from Italy : And did enstall By Latium's fall , Alba in Albany . ( As Troy being wonne , Faire Venus sonne In spight of desteny , With daunger brought ( Through daunger sought ) Ilium to Italy . Then silent spirit Vnto thy merit Giue leaue this dirge to sing : Whose worthy name , Outstrips bright fame , And tires her flitting wing . Since Caesar dide In height of pride , Whom guiltie hands did wound : A fairer flower In Latium's bower Then thee was neuer found . Since Venus sonne Did Carthage shunne Bent to the Rutiles land A worthier knight Did neuer pight His tent on forraine sand ▪ Sith then by thee Faire Britany The name of Rome shall haue : Shee giues thee roome Within her wombe , And makes her brest thy graue . Thee Italy Did once deny , Albion a friend doth mone Now not with men A Citizen Enstall'd in heau'ns throne . Han. Pemb.

Certaine verses written and sent in way of comfort ▪ to her Ladiship . IF those salt showers that your sad eyes haue shed Haue quencht the flame your griefe hath kindled . Madame my words shall not be spent in vaine , To serue for winde to chase that mournfull raine . Thus farre your losse hath striuen with your griefe , Whether each piteous eye should deeme the chiefe . Whiles both your griefe doth make your losse the more , And your great losse doth cause you grieue so sore . Both griefe and losse doo willing partners finde , In euery eye , and euery feeling minde . So haue I seene the silly Turtle Doue , The patterne of your griefe and chaster loue , Sitting vpon a bared bough alone : Her dearest mates vntimely losse bemone . Whiles she denies all cares of due repast , And mourning thus , her weary dayes doth wast . Thus natures selfe doth teach vs to lament , And reasons light our sorrowes doth augment . Yet reason can it selfe this lesson teach , Our reason should surpasse their sences reach . Reason our sence , and Grace should reason sway , That sence and reason both might Grace obay . Those silly birds whom nature hope denies , May die for griefe because their fellow dies . But on this hope our drouping hart should rest , That maugre death their parted soules are blest . That their swift course , that Gole doth sooner gaine , Whereto ere long , our slow steps shall attaine . Some fewe short yeares your following race shall spend , Then shall you both meete in a happie end . But you meane while all in a straunger coast , Are left alone , as one whose guide is lost . Madame what ere your grieued thought applies , We are all Pilgrims to our commons skies . And who is nearest to this home of clay May find the worser speed and further way . And as I gesse , vnlesse our Artists faine , England is nearer heauen of the twaine . There is your home , where now your Knight doth bide , Resting by many a Saint and Angels side . Walke on in Grace , and grieue your selfe no more , That your so loued mate is gone before . Io. Hall . Imman . Coll.

An Epitaph . Some leaue their home for priuate discontent , Some forced by compulsed banishment . Some for an itching lust of nouell fight , Some one for gaine , some other for delight . Thus whilst some force , some other hope bereaues , Some leaue their country , some their country leaues . But thee no griefe , force , lust , gaine or delight , Exiled from thy home ( thrice worthy Knight ) Saue that griefe , force , that gaine , delight alone , Which was thy good , and true religion . Io. Hall . idem . Imman . Col.

You Nymphs that in the meadowes keepe , And midst the smiling Dasies sleepe , Your Odours powre On this dead flowre : Whose losse doth make Aurora weepe . A flowre he was , then crowne his tombe With flowers sprung from his mothers wombe . But if the modest Roses want , Or maiden Lillies waxen scant : Watch where Horatia weepes her shewers ▪ And you shall finde a bed of flowers . Like as of Helens teares once came , The hearbe which Emila we name . A floure he was , and as a floure he died , But now to stars as fairer flowers is hied : There to behold the chiefe rose of the field , The fairest Lilly that the vallies yeild . Sweet flowre of peace , & loue both red & white , That God and man together doth vnite . R. S. Coll. Iohan.

Two Countries do contend for me , Faire Albion , and Italie : To both I owe my selfe at once , There was I borne , here lye my bones . There did I rise , here do I fall : That gaue me birth , this buriall . That was my cradle , this my graue , There had I life , here death I haue . But that gaue life which now is runne , This life which neuer shall be done . R. F. Pemb ▪ H.

Admired Maro let me vse thy name , To proue Aeneas to Italia came : Italian Knight , if I should dare define That thou art come of this Aeneas line , How ere perhaps some Critick wil say no , Yet will thy life and likenesse proue 't is so . And yet me thinkes Vlisses though a Greeke , Was like Horatio too , since both did seeke A toong of eloquence , so by a chast wise Each of them had three children in his life . And now to trauell is Horatio gone , Leauing his Penelope to mourne alone . Now doth she tell her selfe , how he doth liue , And to her thread of life , that doth length giue : Now doth she thinke hee 's dead , and gins lament , And wish her thread of life were also spent , Thus like Penelopes lingring web of paine , She weaues her life , and it vnweaues againe . But it may be when twentie yeares are past , That thy Vlysses will returne at last : A ye if he were on earth : but hee 's too wise . For earth to leaue the heauens faire Paradise . R. Sen. Coll. Iohn .

See here lie Myrmidons , more hard then steele , That no remorse , nor woe could euer feele , This deare deare tombe that doth Horatio keepe , And learne of this moist marble how to weepe . Idem .

The Elements that when he was aliue , Conspired in one to giue Horatio breath : Are since he dy'd deuided and do striue Which shall be kindest to him after death . The earth doth promise gently to enfolde His tender body in her colde embrace : And for he softly trode commaunds the molde , Softly to he vpon his louely face . The water for his sake to teares will turne , And drowne all eyes in neuer ceasing woe , That where Horatio they gin to mourne , Whole streams may from the swelling circles floe ▪ The ayre will through his lightsome Regions sound , In doubled ecchoes great Horatios fame : That through the world no Kingdome may be found , Whose vtmost shore haue not receiu'd the same . The fire no more will burne his Pictures frame , But gliding from his natiue seate aboue , Will henceforth vse the vertue of his flame , In kindling hearts with dead Horatios loue . N. F. Reg. Coll.

England lament , thus of thy neighbours checkt , A straunger came thy fruitfull wombe to cherish , But him thou sufferest without due respect , Vngratefully within thy wombe to perish . For such a one within thee is inshrinde , As of thy owne scarce one is left behinde . S. H.

The fates are Queenes , they cannot be controld , This obiect proues it , who can it denie ? Their law is ostracisme mongst yoong and old , They expulse the best , for still the best doth die . But A eacus is iust what ere betides , At Plutoes Court I le sue these homicides . I. Cecill . S. Iohns Coll.

To the suruiuing Lady of the deceased Knight . WAst Venus ? no. The fates haue stolne your loue , Oh cut-throat queans , ( I hope they heare me not ) This yeare for-soothe they spunne tissue for loue To gaine a thread , they 'le spoyle a true-loue knot . Let not his absence ( Lady ) be your dome , Phaebe shines most , when Phaebus is from home . Idem ▪

Noctuluctus , or his Night-mourning . 1 RIch tapird-Sanctuarie of the blest , Pallace of Ruth , made all of teares and rest ; Day of deepe Students ▪ dead Night , nurse of death , Who breathlesse seed'st on nothing but our breath , To thy deepe shades , and desolatione , I consecrate my dying liuing mone . 2 You dreadfull Furies ▪ visions of the night , With ghastly howling , all approach my sight : And palish Ghosts , with sable Tapers stand , To lend sad lights to my more sadder hand . Foxes come barke , and Night-Rauens belch in grones , And Screetch-owles hollowe times confusiones . 3 Or I will furnish vp a Funerall bed , Strew'd with the bones and reli●ques of the dead : Redoubling Ecchoes shall like passing bells , Chiming the dismall accent ▪ of their knells , Reuiue the dead , or make the liuing die , In Ruth , and terror of deathes torturie . 4 Here liues imprisoned sorrow , cloath'd in blacke , A dolefull hearse , fit for a dead mans backe : Natures faire red , clad in pale sheetes of Ruth , Expressing in dumbe shew , a serious truth . A Funerall solemniz'd in sad cheere , Where eies be mourners , and where legs the beere . 5 But ah my Muse , my Muse can but lament , With haire disheueld , words , and teares half spent , This dead quick-spirit , wits strange Cameleon , Which any authors colour could put on , And not in one sole tongue his thoughts dissunder . But like to Scaliger our ages woonder , The learneds Sun , wrapt in whose admiration , The rarest wits are fir'd in euery Nation , 6 Whose happie wit with gracious iudgement ioyn'd , Could giue a pasport unto words new coynd : In his owne shop , who could adopt the strange : Engraft the wilde , enrich with mutuall change His powerfull stile ▪ yet sanz respect of sweetes , Death folded vp his earth in earthen sheetes . 7 O had I eyes to weepe griefes great'st excesse , Or words expressing more then words expresse , Each line should be a Historie of woe , And euery accent as a dead mans throe . 8 But teares shall serue for Inke , for paper stones , Eyes pens , for letters drops , for subiect mones , For Epitaph these Threnes . Entomb'd here lies , ( In graue of memorie digd with weeding eies ) Wits strange Cameleon , dead quick-sprited Roman , Most like himselfe , else almost like to no man : Arts various-varnish , enricht so with th' Italian , French , Latine , Spanish , Dutch , and Nubian That Rome , Rheyn , Rhone , Greece , Spain , & Italy May all plead right in his Natiuity . 9 Ye liuing spirits then , if any liue , Whom like extreames , do like affections giue , Shun , shun this cruell light , and end your thrall , In these soft shades of sable Funerall . Omnis vt vmbra . Io: May :

An other . Muses losse lamenting treasure , Dest'nies crosse-tormenting pleasure , Wisedome wayling , honour crying , Vertue weeping ▪ Iudgement dying . Altogether all betoken , Griefes-griefe , not without griefe spoken . Learnings Legend , Physicks Phusicke , Sence of Science , Muses musicke , Pandoraes Dowry , Graces Glory , Sad Melpomines sad Story . Write in teares ▪ and in teares read , Natures grace , Horatio dead . Dead not dead in heauen he raines ▪ Dying life such liuing gaines : Liuing-dying was his state , Now dying liuing spite of Fate Rais'd from earth to heauen , where liuing , Liues concent , concent life-giuing . Though bodies life here dead do lie , Life of his soule liues ne're to die . The same .

Idem Lectori In Funera Pallauicinaea . ASpice quot vates Pallauicinaea crearint Funera , quos nunquam vates potuêre Magistri Reddere ; noctem vnam magnos fecisse Poetas Fama est , extempso velut olim Perseus inter Enituit summos vates , Helicone relicto . Tu modo ( si quis aues ) fueris cona●ine tanto Versifices inter ▪ si non potes esse Poeta . Eia age sis , delubra Deum , delubra Dearum Sedulus implora , totumque Helicona duobus Haustibus epotans , ingentem imitare furorem , Atque altum quiddam spira , dignumque cothurno : Ad fingendum audax : sic nostri ex tempore facti Grandiloqui vates , sic tu , plaudente popello , ( Si nihil est aliud ) dic occubuisse Mineruae Aonidumque decus , dic interijsse decorem Pol Latij ▪ et qui omnes paenè praedatus Honores Dic obijsse diem , dic inuida Fata , colosque Detestare nigras , nentesque ex ordine Parcas Exagita diris , Musasque & Apollina , quoquo Versu itera , atque illas vitam attribuisse perennem Defuncto exclama , mortem nos viuere ▪ vitam Illum perpetuam ▪ vatesque videbere tandem ( Dum nulla occurret melior , via trita terenda'st . )

Idem Pictoribus , ●que Poëtis . SIvspiam vapulet Priscianus ( Bone ) Scia● ( Lector ) vapular● a Typographo . Si verbum , syllaba , vel desit litera , Ve● punctum , scias , culpa est Typographi . Est primum tempus parce , nunquam prius , Latinas literas impressit hic Typographus : Si non parces , nunquam imprimet imposterum . Io: May : Ce● potius alter Idem , Ignotus .

FINIS .