Madagascar with other poems. By W. Davenant. D'Avenant, William, Sir, 1606-1668. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A19878 of text S109308 in the English Short Title Catalog (STC 6304). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 142 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 80 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2017 A19878 STC 6304 ESTC S109308 99844958 99844958 9817 2240927204

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Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A19878) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 9817) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 954:17) Madagascar with other poems. By W. Davenant. D'Avenant, William, Sir, 1606-1668. [20], 141, [1] p. Printed by Iohn Haviland for Thomas Walkly, and are to be sold at his shop at the Flying Horse neare Yorke house, London : 1638. The first two leaves and the last leaf are blank. Reproduction of the original in the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery. eng eebo no Madagascar; with other poems. By W. Davenant. D'Avenant, William, Sir, (1606-1668.) 1638 155 23924 86 0 0 0 0 0 35.95 D The rate of 35.95 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the D category of texts with between 35 and 100 defects per 10,000 words. 2005-06 Assigned for keying and markup 2005-06 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2005-07 Sampled and proofread 2005-07 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2005-10 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion Boston Public Library, BRLL

Madagascar ; WITH OTHER Poems .

BY W. DAVENANT .

LONDON , Printed by John Haviland for Thomas Walkly , and are to be sold at his shop at the Flying Horse neare Yorke house . 1638.

Imprimatur ,

Feb. 26. 1637. MATTH. CLAY

IF THESE POEMS LIVE , MAY THEIR MEMORIES , BY WHOM THEY WERE CHERISH'D , END . PORTER , H. IARMYN , LIVE WITH THEM .

TO My worthy Friend Mr. William Davenant ; upon his Poem of Madagascar , which he writ to the most Illustrions Prince RUPERT . I Am compell'd by your commands to write I' th Frontis-peece of this , and sure I might With quaint conceirs , here to the World set forth The merit of the Poem , and your worth ; Had I well fancy'd reasons to begin ▪ And a choyce Mould , to cast good verses in : But wanting these , what pow'r ( alas ) have I To write of any thing ? will men rely On my opinion ? which in Verse , or Prose , Hath just that credit , which we give to those That sagely whisper , secrets of the Court , Having but Lees , for Essence , from Report . And that 's the knowledge which belongs to mee ; For by what 's said , I guesse at Poetrie : As when I heare them read strong-lines , I cry Th' are rare , but cannot tell you rightly why : And now I finde this quality was it , That made some Poet eite mee for a wit : Now God forgive him for that huge mistake ! If hee did know , but with what paines I make A Verse , hee ▪ ld pittie then my wretched case ; For at the birth of each , I twist my Face , As if I drew a Tooth ; I blot , and write , Then looke as pale , as some that goe to fight : With the whole Kennell of the Alphabet , I hunt sometimes an houre , one Rime to get : What I approv'd of once , I streight deny , Like an unconstant Prince , then give the lye To my owne invention , which is so poore , As here I 'de kisse your hands , and say no more ; Had I not seene a childe with Si●ors cut , A folded Paper , unto which was put More chance , than skill , yet when you open it , You 'd thinke it had beene done , by Art and Wit : So I ( perhaps ) may light upon some straine , Which may in this your good opinion ▪ gaine ; And howsoever , if it be a plot , You may be certaine that in this , y' have got A foyle to set your Jewell off , which comes From Madagascar , scenting of rich gummes ; Before the which , my lay conceits will smell , Like an abortive Chick , destroy'd i' th shell : Yet something I must say , may it prove fit ; I 'le doe the best I can ; and this is it . What lofty fancie was 't possest your braine , And caus'd you soare into so high a straine ! Did all the Muses joyne , to make this Peece Excell what wee have had , from Romo , or Greece ? Or did you strive , to leave it as a Friend To speake your prayses , when there is an end Of your mortalitie ? If you did so , En●y will then , scarce finde you out a Foe : But let me tell you ( Friend ) the heightning came , From the reflection of Prince Rupert's name ; Whose glorious Genius cast into your soule , Divine conceits , such as are fit t'inroule , In great Apollo's court , there to remaine For future ages to transcribe againe : For such a Poem , in so sweet a stile , As yet , was never landed on this Isle : And could I speake your prayses at each Pore , T were little for the worke ; it merits more . Endimion Porter .
TO MY FRIEND Will . Davenant ; upon his Poem of Madagascar . WHat mighty Princes Poets are ? those things The great ones stick at , and our very Kings Lay downe , they venter on ; and with great ease , Discover , conquer , what , and where they please . Some Flegmatick Sea-Captaine , would have staid For money now , or Victualls ; not have waid Anchor without 'em ; Thou ( will ) do'st not stay So much as for a Wind , but go'st away , Land'st , View'st the Country ; fight'st , put'st all to rout , Before another cou'd be putting out ! And now the newes in towne is ; Dav'nant's come From Madagascar , Fraught with Laurell home , And welcome ( will ) for the first time , but prithee In thy next Voyage , bring the Gold too with thee . I. Suckling .
On his other Poems . THou hast redeem'd us , will ; and future Times , Shall not account unto the Age's crimes Dearth of pure Wit : since the great Lord of i● ( Donne ) parted hence , no Man has ever writ So neere him , in 's owne way : I would-commend Particulars , but then , how should I end Without a Volume ? Ev'ry Line of thine Would aske ( to praise it right ) Twenty of mine . I. Suckling .
To Will . Davenant my Friend . WHen I behold , by warrant from thy Pen , A Prince rigging our Fleets , arming our , Men , Conducting to remotest shores our force ( Without a Dido to retard his course ) And thence repelling in successe-full fight , Th' usurping Foe ( whose strength was all his Right ) By two brave Heroes , ( whom wee justly may By Homer's Ajax or Achilles lay , ) I doubt the Author of the Tale of Troy , With him , that makes his Fugitive enjoy The Carthage Queene , and thinke thy Poem may Impose upon Posteritie , as they Have done on us : What though Romances lye Thus blended with more faithfull Historie ? Wee , of th' adult'rate mixture not complaine , But thence more Characters of Vertue gaine ; More pregnant Patterns , of transcedent Worth , Than barren and insipid Truth brings forth : So , oft the Bastard nobler fortune meets , Than the dull Issue of the lawfull sheets . Thomas Carew .
TO MY FRIEND , Will . Davenant . I Crouded 'mongst the first , to see the Stage ( Inspir'd by thee ) strike wonder in our Age , By thy bright fancie dazled : Where each Sceane Wrought like a charme , and forc't the Audience leane To t'h' passion of thy Pen : Thence Ladies went ( Whose absence Lovers sigh'd for ) to repent Their unkind scorne ; And Courtiers , who by art Made love before , with a converted hart , To wed those Virgins , whom they woo'd t' abuse ; Both renderd Hymen's pros'lits by thy Muse . But others who were proofe 'gainst Love , did sit To learne the subtle Dictats of thy Wit ; And as each profited , tooke his degree , Master , or Batchelor , in Comedie . Who on the Stage , though since they venter'd not , Yet on some Lord , or Lady , had their plot Of gaine , or favour : Ev'ry nimble jest They spake of thine , b'ing th' entrance to a Feast , Or neerer whisper : Most thought fit to be So farre concluded Wits , as they knew thee . But here the Stage thy limit was ▪ Kings may Find proud ambition humbled at the sea , Which bounds dominion : But the nobler flight Of Poesie , hath a supremer right To Empire , and extends her large command Where ere th' invading Sea assaults the land . Ev'n Madagascar ( which so oft hath been Like a proud Virgin tempted , yet still seen Th' Enemy Court the Wind for flight ) doth lie A trophie now of thy Wits Victorie : Nor yet disdaines destruction to her state , Encompast with thy Laurell in her fate . William Habington .
Madagascar . A Poem written to Prince RUPERT . MY Soule , this Winter , hath beene twice about To shift her narrow Mansion , and looke out ; To aire her yet unpractis'd wings , and trie Where Soules are entertain'd when Bodyes die : For this intended journey was to cleere Some subtle humane doubts , that vex her here , And for no other cause ; how ere the Court Beleeve ( whose cruell wits turne all to sport ) 'T was not to better my philosophie That I would mount , and travell through the Skie , As if I went , on Natures embassie ; Whose Legate there , Religion termes a Spie . But these sick offers to depart , they call A wearinesse of life , each Spring , and Fall : And this beliefe ( though well resolv'd before ) Made mee so sullen , that I 'le die no more Than old Chaldean Prophets in their sleepe ; Who still some reliques of their Soules , would keepe , As gage for the returne of what they sent , For visions to the starry Firmament . Thus in a dreame , I did adventure out Just so much Soule , as Sinners giv'n to doubt Of after usage , dare forgoe a while : And this swift Pilot steer'd unto an Isle , Betweene the Southern Tropick and the Line ; Which ( noble Prince ) my prophecie cals thine : There on a Christall Rock I sate , and saw The empire of the Winds , new kept in awe , By things , so large , and weighty as did presse Waves ▪ to Bubbles , or what unswell'd to lesse : The Sea , for shelter hastned to the shore ; Sought harbor for it selfe , not what it bore : So well these Ships could rule ; where ev'ry Saile , The subdu'd Winds , court with so milde a gale , As if the spacious Navy lay adrift ; Sayles swell'd , to make them comely more than swift : And then I spi'd ( as cause of this command ) Thy mighty Uncles Trident in thy hand ; By which mysterious figure I did call Thee chiefe , and universall Admirall ! For well our northerne Monarch knowes ; howere The Sea is dully held , the proper spheare Wherein that Trident swayes , yet , in his hand ●t turnes strait to a Scepter when on land : And soone this wise assertion prov'd a truth ; For when thy selfe , with thy advent'rous Youth Were disimbarqu'd ; strait with one lib'rall minde , That long-lost , scatter'd-parcell of mankinde , Who from the first disorder'd throng did stray And then fix heere , now yeeld unto thy sway : On Olive trees , their Quivers empty hung , Their Arrowes were unplum'd , their Bowes unstrung : But some from farr , with jealous Opticks trace Lines of thy Mothers beauty in thy face : By which , so much thou seem'st the God of love , That with tumultuous haste they strait remove , And hide , their Magazin of Archerie ; Lest what was their defence , might now supply Thy Godhead , which is harmelesse yet ; but know When thou shalt head a Shaft , and draw a Bow , Each then thou conquerst , must a Lover be ; The worst estate of their captivitie . What sound is that ! whose concord makes a jarre 'T is noise in peace , though harmonie in warre : The Drumme ; whose doubtfull Musick doth delight The willing eare , and the unwilling fright . Had wet Orion chosen to lament His griefs at Sea , on such an Instrument ; Perhaps the martiall Musick might incite The Sword-fish , Thrasher , and the Whale to fight , But not to dance ; the Dolphin he should lack , Who to delight his eare , did load his back : And now as Thunder , calls ere Stormes doe rise ; Yet not forewarnes , 'till just they may surprise ; Till the assembling clouds are met , to powre Their long provided furie in one showre ; Even so this little thunder of the Drumme , Foretold a danger just when it was come : When strait mine Eye , might ratifie mine Eare ; And see that true , which heard , was but my feare : For in a firme well order'd body stood , Erected Pikes , like a young leavelesse Wood ; And that shew'd dark , they were so close combin'd ; And ev'ry narrow File was double lin'd ; But with such nimble Ministers of fire , That could so quickly charge , so soone retire , That shot so fast ; to say it lightned were No praise , unto a Gunners motion there ; Nor yet to say , it lightned ev'ry where ; Their number thence , not swiftnesse would appeare ; Since so incessant swift ; that in mine eye , Lightning seem'd slow , and might be taught to flie ! T is lawfull then to say , thou didst appeare To wonder much , although thou couldst not feare : Thy knowledge ( Prince ) were younger than thy time , ●f not amaz'd ; to see in such a clime , Where Science is so new , men so exact , ●n Tactick Arts , both to designe , and act . These from unwieldy Ships ( the day before ) The weary Seas disburdned on the shore : In envy of thy hopes they hither came ; And Envy men in warr Ambition name ; Ambition , Valor ; but'tis valor 's shame When Envy feeds it more than noble Fame : Strait I discern'd by what their Ensigne weares , They are of those ambitious Wanderers ; Whose avaritious thoughts would teach them runne , As long continu'd journeys as the Sunne ; And make the title of their strength , not right , As knowne , and universall as his light : For they beleeve their Monarch hath subdu'd Already such a spacious latitude ; That sure , the good old Planet's bus'nesse is Of late , only to visit what is his : And those faire beames , which he did think his owne Are tribute now , and he , his subject growne ; Yet not impair'd in title , since they call Him kindly , his Surveyor-Generall . Now give mee Wine ! and let my fury rise , That what my travail'd Soul's immortall eies With joy , and wonder saw , I may reherse To curious Eares , in high , immortall verse ! Two of this furious Squadron did advance ; Commanded to comprise the publique chance In their peculiar fates : Their Swords they drew ; And two , whose large renowne their Nation knew , Two of thy party ( Prince ) they call'd to try By equall duell such a victory , As gives the Victor's side a full command Of what possess'd by both , is neithers Land . And this to save the Peoples common blood ; By whom although no cause is understood ; Yet Princes being vex'd they must take care To doe not what they ought , but what they dare : Their reason on their courage must rely ; Though they alike the quarrell justifie , And in their Princes kinde indiff'rent eie Are dutious fooles , that either kill , or die . This safe agreement by the gen'rall voyce Was ratifi'd with vowes ; then strait thy choice For the encounter ( Prince ) with greedy eye I did intirely view ; and both I spie March to the List ; whilst eithers cheerefull looke Fore-told glad hopes , of what they undertooke . Their lookes ; where forc'd-state-clouds , nere strive to lowre , As if sweet feature , bus'nesse could makesowre : Where solemne sadnesse of a new court face , Nere meant to signifie their pow'r , or place . You may esteeme them Lovers by their haire ; The colour warnes no Lady to despaire ; And Nature seem'd to prove their stature such , As tooke not scantly from her , nor too much : So tall , wee can't mis-name their stature length , Nor think'● lesse made for comlinesse , than strength . Their hearts are more , than what wee noble call , And still make Envy weary of her Gall. So gentle soft ; their valours with more ease , Might be betrai'd to suffer than displease : Compar'd to Lovers , Lovers were undone ; Since still the best gaine by comparison . Of these , the God-like Sidney was a Type , Whose fame still growes , and yet is ever ripe ; Like fruits of Paradise , which nought could blast But ignorance ; for a desire to taste , And know , produc'd no curse ; but neut'rall will , When knowledge made indiff'rent , good , and ill . So whilst our judgement keepes unmix'd , and pure , Our Sidney's full-growne Fame will still endure : Sidney , like whom these Champions strive to grace , The silenc'd remnant of poore Orpheus race . First those , whom mighty Numbers shall inspire ; Then those , whose easier art can touch his Lyre . And they protect , those who with wealthier fare , Old Zeuxis lucky Pen●ill imitate , And those , who teach Lysippus Imag'rie ; Formes , that if once alive , would never die ! Which though no offices of life they taste , Yet , like th' Elements ( life's preservers ) last ! An Art , that travailes much , deriv'd to us From pregnant Rome , to Rome from Ephesus ! But whither am I fled ? A Poets Song , When love directs his praise , is ever long . The Challenge was aloud ; whilst ev'ry where Men strive to shew their hopes ; and hide their feare . They now stood opposite , and neer : awhile Their Eyes encounter'd , then in scorne they smile . Each did disguise the fury of his heart , By safe , and temp'rate exercise of Art . Seem'd to invite those thrusts they most decline , Receive and then returne in one true line : As if , all Archymedes science were In duell both express'd , and better'd there . Each strove the others judgement to surpasse ; Stood stiffe , as if their postures were in brasse . But who can keepe his cold wise temper long , When honours warmes him , and his blood is young ▪ Those subtle figures , they in judgement chose As guards secure , in rage they discompose : Now Hazard is the play , Courage the Maine ▪ Which if it hits at first , assur's the gaine : But Honor throwes at all ; and in this strife , When Honor playes , how poore a stake is life ? Which soone ( alas ! ) the adverse Second found ; Made wise , by the example of a wound ▪ But Gamsters wisdome ever comes too late ; So deare 't is bought , of that false Merchant Fate : For our bold Second by that wound had wone ▪ The treasure of his strength ; whilst quite undone , He shrunke from this unlucky sport : but now More angry wrinckles on his Rivals brow Appear'd , than hunted Lions weare ; and all His strength , hee ventures on our Principall : Who entertain'd his streame of fury so As Seas meet Rivers whom they force to flow : It is repulse makes Rivers swell , and he Forc'd back , got courage from our victorie : Rivers , that Seas doe teach to rage , are tost , And troubled for their pride , then quickly lost : So he was taught that anger , which he spent To make the others wrath more prevalent . For in the next assault he felt the best , First part of Man ( the Monarch of his brest ) To sicken in its warme , and narrow Throne , His Rivals hasty Soule , to shades unknowne Was newly fled ; but his made greater haste , His feares had so much sense of suff'rings past ▪ Such danger he discern'd in 's Victors eye ; Whom he beleev'd , so skill'd in victorie ; As if his Soule should neere his body stay , The cruell heavens , would ●each him finde a way To kill that too ; by which , no pride ( wee see ) Can make us so prophane as miserie ? This when their Campe beheld , they strait abjure That pitty in their vow ; which to secure The publique bloud , ventur'd their hopes , and fame , On Two , cause they could dye , were censur'd tame : And to exhort , such vex'd , and various Minds , Were in a storme , to reconcile the Winds , With whisper'd precepts of philosophy ; Armes , and Religion , seldome can comply . Their faith they break , and in a Body draw Their looser strength , to give the Victors law . Charge ! charge ! the battaile is begun ! and now I saw , thy Vncles anger in thy brow : Which like Heavens fire , doth seldom force assume , Or kindle till t is fit , it should consume : Heavens slow , unwilling fire ; that would not fall , 'Till Two injurious Cities seem'd to call With their loud sinnes ; and when t' was time it must Destroy ; although it was severely just To those , so much perverted in their will ; The righteous saw the fire , yet fear'd no ill . So carelesse safe , here all the Natives were , Who stood , as if too innocent to feare ▪ As if they knew , they Uncle bred thy Fate , And his just anger thou didst imitate . But thy proud Foes , who thought the Morne did rise , For no chiefe cause , but to salute their Eies ; Are now enform'd by Death , it may grow Night With them , yet others still enjoy the light : For strait ( me thought ) their perish'd Bodies lay To soyle the Ground , they conquer'd yesterday . O , why is valour priz'd at such a rate ? Or if a Vertue , why so fool'd by Fate ? That Land , achiev'd with patient toyle , and might Of emulous encounter in the fight , They must not only yeeld , when they must dy , But dead , it for the Victor fructifie . And now our Drummes so fill each adverse Eare , Their fellowes groanes , want roome to enter there ; Like Ships neere Rocks , when stormes are growne so high , They cannot warne each other with their cry : Ev'n so , not hearing what would make them flye , All stay'd , and sunke , for sad societie : Their wounds are such , the Neighb'ring Rivers need No Springs to make them flow , but what they bleed ▪ Where Fishes wonder at their red-dy'd flood , And by long nourishment on humane blood , May grow so neere a kin to men , that he who feeds on them hereafter , needs must be Esteem'd as true a Caniball , as those Whose luscious diet is their conquer'd Foes . Sure Adam when himselfe he first did spie So singular , and onely in his eye ; Yet knew , all to that single selfe pertain'd , Which the Sunne saw , or Elements sustain'd ; He not beleev'd , a race from him might come So num'rous , that to make new off-spring roome , Is now the best excuse of Nature , why Men long in growth , so easily must die . Eden , which God did this first Prince allow , But as his Privie-garden then , is now A spacious Country found ; else wee supplie With dreames , not truth , long lost Geographie : And each high Island then ( though nere so wide ) Was but his Mount , by Nature fortifi'd ; And every Sea , wherein those Islands float , Most aptly then , he might have call'd his Moat . Parts , and divisions were computed small , When rated by his measure that had all : And all was Adams when the world was new ; Then strait that all , succeeded to a few ; Whilst men were in their size , not number strong ; But since , each Couple is become a Throng : Which is the cause wee busie ev'ry winde ( That studious Pilots in their compasse finde ) For Lands unknowne : where those who first doe come Are not held strangers , but arrive at home : Yet he that next shall make his visit there , Is punish'd for a Spie and Wanderer : Not that Man's nature is a verse from peace ; But all are wisely jealous of increase : For Eaters grow so fast , that wee must drive Our friends away to keepe our selves alive : And Warr would be lesse needfull , if to die , Had bin as pleasant as to multiplie . Forgive mee Prince , that this aspiring flame ( First kindled as a light , to shew thy fame ) Consumes so fast , and is mis-spent so long , Ere my chiefe Vision is become my Song , Thy selfe I saw , quite tir'd with victorie ; As weary growne to kill , as they to die : Whilst some at last , thy mercy did enjoy 'Cause t' was lesse paines , to pardon than destroy ; And thy compassion did thy Army please , In meere beleefe , it gave thy Valour ease . Here in a calme began thy regall sway ; Which with such cheerefull hearts , all did obey , As if no Law , were juster than thy word ; Thy Scepter still were safe , without a Sword . And here Chronologers pronounce thy stile ; The first true Monarch of the Golden Isle : An Isle , so seated for predominance , Where Navall strength , its power can so advance , That it may tribute take , of what the East Shall ever send in traffique to the West . He that from cursed Mahomet derives His sinfull blood : the Sophy too , that strives To prove , he keepes that very Chaire in 's Throne , The Macedonian Youth last sate upon : And hee , whose wilder pride , makes him abhor All but the Sunne , for his Progenitor ; Whose Mother sure , was ravish'd in a dreame , By somes o're hot , lascivious Noone-day-beame ; From whence , he cals himselfe , The wealth of sight , The Morn's Executor , the Heire of Light : And he , that thinks his rule extends so farre , He hopes , the former Three his Vassailes are : Compar'd to him , in Warre hee rates them lesse , Than Corporals ; than Constables in peace : And hopes the mighty Presbiter stands bare In●rev'rence of his name , and will not dare To weare ( though sick ) his purple Turband on Within a hundred Leagues , of his bright Throne . These Mortall Gods , for traffique still disperse Their envy'd wealth , throughout the universe ; In Caracks , built so wide , that they want roome In narrow Seas ; or in a Iunck , whose wombe So swels , as could our wonder be so mad , To thinke that Boats , or Ships their sexes had ; Who them beheld , would simply say ; sure these Are neere their time , and big with Pinnaces : Yet though so large , and populous , they all Must tribute pay , unto thy Admirall . Now Wealth ( the cause , and the reward of War ) Is greedily explor'd : some busie are In virgin Mines ; where shining gold they spie , That darkens the Celestiall Chymicks eye ▪ I wish'd my Soule had brought my body here , Not as a Poet , but a Pioner . Some neere the deepest shore are sent to dive ; Whilst with their long retentive breath they strive To root up Corall Trees , where Mermaids lie , Sighing beneath those Precious boughs , and die For absence of their scaly Lovers lost In midnight stormes , about the Indian coast . Some finde old Oysters , that lay gapeing there For ev'ry new , fresh flood , a hundred yeare ; From these they rifle Pearles whose pond'rous size Sinks weaker Divors when they strive to rise : So big , on Carckonets were never scene , But where some well truss'd Giantesse is Queene ; For though th' are Orient , and design'd to deck , Their weight would yoke a tender Ladies Neck . Some climbe , and search the Rocks , till each have found A Saphyr , Ruby , and a Diamond : That which the Sultan's glistrings Bride doth weare , To these would but a Glowormes eie appeare : The Tuscan Duk 's compar'd , shewes sick , and dark ; These living Starres , and his a dying spark . And now I saw ( what urg'd my wonder more ) Black Suds of Ambar-Greece , float to the shore : Whilst rude'dull Mariners , who hardly can Distinguish Buffe , or Hides , from Cordovan , ( Since gloves they never weare ) this Oyntment use Not to perfume , but supple their parch'd Shooes . Now others hasten to the woods , and there Such fruits for taste and odor , ev'ry where Are seene ; that the Merabolan by some Is slighted as a course sowre winter-Plumme . Then new temptations make them all in love With wand'ring , till invited to a Grove , They strait those silken litle Weavers spie , That worke so fast on leaves of Mulberie : The Persian worme ( whose weary sommer toyles So long hath beene the rusling Courtiers spoyles ) Compar'd to these , lives ever lazily , And for neat spinning is a bungling Flie ! Such hopes of wealth discern'd , t is hard to say How gladly reason did my faith obey ; As if that miracle would now appeare , Which turnes a Poet to an Usurer : But reason soone will with our faith conspire , To make that easie which wee much desire : Nor , Prince , will I despaire ; though all is thine , That Pioners now dig from ev'ry Mine ; Though all , for which on slipp'ry Rocks they strive , Or gather when in Seas they breathlesse dive ; Though Poets such unlucky Prophets are , As still foretell more blessings than they share ; Yet when thy noble choyce appear'd , that by Their Combat first prepar'd thy victorie ; Endimion , and Arigo ; who delight In Numbers and make strong my Muses flight ! These when I saw ; my hopes could not abstaine , To think it likely I might twirle a Chaine On a judiciall Bench : learne to demurre , And sleepe out trials in a gowne of Furre , Then reconcile the rich , for Gold-fring'd-gloves , The poore , for God-sake , or for Sugar-loaves ! When I perceiav'd , that cares on wealth rely ; That I was destin'd for authoritie , And early Gowts ; my Soule in a strange fright From this rich Isle began her hasty flight ; And to my halfe dead Body did returne , Which new inspir'd , rose cheerefull as the Morne . Heroique Prince , may still thy acts , and name , Become the wonder and discourse of Fame ; May ev'ry Laurell , ev'ry Mirtle bough , Be strip'd for Wreaths , t' adorne , and load thy brow ; Triumphant Wreaths , which cause they never fade , Wise elder times , for Kings and Poets made : And I deserve a little sprig of Bay , To weare in Greece on Homers Holy-day ; Since I assume , when I thy Battailes write , That very flame , which warm'd thee in the fight . FINIS .
Elizium . To the Duchesse of BVCKINGHAM . MADAM , SO sleeps the Anchoret on his cheap bed , ( whose sleep wants only length to prove him dead ) As I last night , whom the swift wings of Thought , Convey'd to see what our bold faith had taught ; Elizium , where restored formes nere fade ; Where growth can need no seeds , nor light a shade ; The joyes which in our flesh , through fraile expence Of strentgh , through age , were lost t' our injur'd sense , Wee there doe meet agen ; and those we taste Anew , which though devour'd , yet ever last : The scatter'd treasure of the Spring , blowne by Autumn's rude winds from our discoverie ; Lillies , and Roses ; all that 's faire and sweet , There reconcil'd to their first roots we meet : There , only those triumphant Lovers reigne , Whose passions knew on earth so little staine , Like Angels they nere felt what sexes meant ; Virtue , was first their nature , then intent : There , toyling Victors safely are possest , With servent youth , eternitie , and rest ; But they were such , who when they got the field ; To teach the conquer'd , victorie , could yeeld Themselves againe ; as if true glorie were To bring the foe to courage , not to feare . There are no talking Greeks , who their blood lost , Not for the cause , but for a theame to boast ; As if they strove enough for Fame , that sought To have their Batailes better told , than fought . There I a Vestal's Shadow first did spy , Who when a live with holy huswifry , Trick'd up in lawne , and flow'ry Wreaths ( each hand Cleane as her thoughts ) did'fore the Altar stand : So busie still , strewing her Spice , and then Removing Coales , vexing the Fire agen , As if some queasie Goddesse had profess'd , To taste no smoak that day , but what she dress'd : This holy coyle she living kept ; but farre More busie now , with more delightfull care Than when she watch'd the consecrated Flame , Sh'attends the Shade of gentle Buckingham ; Who there unenvi'd sits , with Chaplets crownd ; And with wise scorne , smiles on the Peoples wound ; He call'd it so ; for though it touch'd his heart , His Nation feeles the rancour , and the smart .
TO The Lord D. L. upon his Mariage . WEe that are Orpheus Sons , and can inherit By that great title , nought but 's num'rous spirit ; His broaken Harpe , and when w' are tir'd with moane , A few small Trees of Bay to hang it on . Wee that successively can claime no more , From such a poore unlucky Ancestor ; Must now ( my noble Lord ) take thrifty care , To know , what moderne wealth the Muses share ? Or how it is dispos'd ? and strait wee finde Great , pow'rfall Love , hath bount'ously resign'd Into your happy Armes , the chiefe , and best , Of all that our ambitious hopes possest : Your noble Bride ; to whose eternall Eies , Wee daily offer'd Wreaths in Sacrifice : Whose warmth gave Laurell growth , whose ev'ry beame Was first our influence , and then our theame : Whose brest ( too narrow for her heart ) was still Her reasons Throne , and prison to her will : And since , this is your willing faith ; t is fit What all the kinde , and wiser Starres commit Unto your charge , be with such eager love , And soft indeerements us'd , as well may prove , They meant , when first they taught you how to woo● , She should be happy , and the Muses too ▪ Live still , the pleasure of each others sight ; To each , a new made wonder , and delight ; Though two , yet both so much one constant minde , That t' will be art , and mystery to finde ( Your thoughts and wishes , being still the same ) From which of eithers loving heart they came .
A Journey into Worcestershire . THree , who ( if kinder Destinies shall please ) May all dye rich , though they love Wit , and ease ; And I , whom some odde hum'rous Planet bid To register the doughty acts they did , Tooke horse ; leaving i th' Town , ill Playes , sowre Wine , Fierce Serjeants and the plague ; besides of mine An Ethnick Taylor too , that was farre worse Than these , or what just Heaven did ever curse . Scarce was the busie Citie left behind , But from the South arose a busier Winde ; Which sent us so much raine , each man did wish , His hands and leggs , were Finnes , his Horse , a Fish . Dull as a thick-skull'd - Iustice , drunke with Sloth ; Or Alderman ( farre gone in Capon Broth ) Wee all appear'd ; no man gave breath to thought ; But like to silent Traytors in a Vault , Digg'd on our way ; or as wee Traytors were T' our selves , and jealous of each others Eare : And as i' th Worlds great Showre , some that did spie ( Hors'd on the Plaines ) Rivers , and Seas draw nigh ; Spurr'd on apace ; in feare all lost their time , That could not reach a ground where they might climbe ; So wee did never thinke us safe , untill Wee had attain'd the Top o' th first high Hill : And now it cleer'd : so to my travail'd Eie , Lookes a round yellow Dane , when he doth spie Neere to his puissant Arme , a Bowle so full , That it may fill his Bladder , and his Skull , As Phebus at this moysture falne ; who laught ; To see such plenty for his mornings draught : But like Chamelions Colours that decay But seemingly to give new colours way ; So our false griefs , had not themselves outworne , But step'd aside , to vary in returne . Beare witnesse World ! for now my tir'd Horse stood , As I , a Vaulter were , and himselfe Wood : As if some Student fierce , the day before Had spurr'd his full halfe Crowne from him , and more . Endimion cryes , away ! What make wee here ? To draw a Map , or gather Juniper ? More cruell than Shrove-Prentices , when they ( Drunk in a Brothell House ) are bid to pay ; Or than the Bawd at Sessions , to that vilde Indicted Rout , which first her house until'de , Is now the Captaine ; who laughing swore ; thus , Each puny Poet rides his Pegasus . But what 's the cause my Lord spurs on amaine , As if t'outride a Tartar , not the Raine ; Some such swift Tartar as might safely say , To an inviting friend , that tempts his stay ; Farwell ; thou seest the Sunne declin'd long since , And I 'm to sup a Hundred miles from hence . My Lord ( me thought ) as he had heard this same , Rod post , to eat that supper ere he came . And now , my Mule moves too ; but with such speed , As Pris'ners to a Psalme , that cannot read : Yet wee reach'd Wickham , with the early Night : Which to describe to Eares , or draw to Sight ; For scituation , or for forme , for heighth , For strength , or magnitude , would ( in good faith ) But stale the price o' th Map ; small credit be T' our Poem , lesse to our Geographie : Or as your riding Academicks use , To toyle , and vex , a long fed mutton-Muse , With taking the circumference of mine Host , Or his Wives sumitrie , were time worse lost ; Since nor Taurentius , nor Van-dike , have yet Command to draw them for the King in great . He that to night rul'd each delighted breast , Gave to the pallat of each Eare a feast ; With joy of pledges made our sowre wine sweet , And nimble as the leaping juice of Creet ; Was , the brave Endimion ; whose triumphs , cleere , From cruell tyranny , or too nice feare ; Having wit still ready , and no huge sinne To cause a sadnesse that might keepe it in , Let flye at all ; the Shafts were keene ; and when They miss'd to pierce , he strongly drew agen ▪ But Sleep , whom Constables obey , though they Have twenty Bills to keepe him off till day : Sleepe , whom th' high tun'd Cloth-worker , Weaver tall , Nor Cobler shrill , with Catches or his Aule , Knowes to resist , seal'd up our lips , and sight ; Making us blind , and silent as the Night . Our other Sallies , and th' adventures wee Achiev'd , deserve new braine , new Historie .
To Endimion Porter . I Gave , when last I was about to die ; The Poets of this Isle a Legacie ; Each so much wealth , as a long union brings T'industrious States , or Victorie to Kings : So much as Hope 's clos'd Eies , could wish to see , Or tall Ambition reach ; I gave them thee . But as rich Men , who in their sicknesse mourne That they must goe , and never more returne , To be glad Heires unto themselves , to take Againe , what they unwillingly forsake ; As these bequeath , their treasure , when they dye , Not out of love , but sad necessitie ; So I ( they thought ) did cunningly resigne Rather than give , what could no more be mine : And they receiv'd thee not , from bounteous Chance , Or mee ; but as their owne inheritance . This , when I heard , I cancell'd my fond Will ; Tempted my faith to my Physitians skill ; To purchase health , sung prayses in his Eare , More than the Living of the Dead would heare . For though our gifts , buy care , nought justly payes Physitians love , but faith , their art , but prayse : Which I observ'd ; now walke , as I should see A death of all things , save thy memorie . But if this early Vintage shall create New wishes in my blood , to celebrate Thee Endimion , and thy Muse , thy large heart , Thy wisdome that hath taught the world an art How ( not enform'd by Cunning , ) courtship may Subdue the minde , and not the Man betray : If mee ( thy Priest ) our curled Youth assigne , To wash our Fleet-street Altars with new Wine ; I will ( since 't is to thee a Sacrifice ) Take care , that plenty swell not into vice : Lest , by a fiery surfe● I be led , Once more to grow devout in a strange bed : Lest through kind weaknesse in decay of health , Or vanity to shew my utmost wealth ; I should againe bequeath thee when I die , To haughtie Poets as a Legacie .
TO THE QVEENE , entertain'd at night by the Countesse of Anglesey . FAire as unshaded Light ; or as the Day In its first birth , when all the Yeare was May ; Sweet , as the Altars smoake , or as the new Unfolded Bud , swell'd by the early Dew ; Smooth , as the face of Waters first appear'd , Ere Tides began to strive , or Winds were heard ; Kind , as the willing Saints , and calmer farre , Than in their sleepes forgiven Hermits are : You that are more , than our discreeter feare Dares praise , with such dull Art , what make you here ? Here , where the Sommer is so little seene , That Leaves ( her cheapest wealth ) scarce reach at greene ; You come , as if the silver Planet were Misled a while from her much injur'd Spheare , And t' ease the travailes of her beames to night , In this small Lanthorn would contract her light .
In remembrance of Master William Shakespeare .
ODE . ( 1 ) BEware ( delighted Poets ! ) when you sing To welcome Nature in the early Spring ; Your num'rous Feet not tread The Banks of Avon ; for each Flowre ( As it nere knew a Sunne or Showre ) Hangs there , the pensive head . ( 2 ) Each Tree , whose thick , and spreading growth hath made , Rather a Night beneath the Boughs , than Shade , ( Unwilling now to grow ) Lookes like the Plume a Captive weares , Whose rifled Falls are steept i' th reares Which from his last rage flow . ( 3 ) The piteous River wept it selfe away Long since ( Alas ! ) to such a swift decay ; That reach the Map ; and looke If you a River there can spie ; And for a River your mock'd Eie , Will finde a shallow Brooke .
To the Lady Bridget Kingsmill ; sent with Mellons after a report of my Death . MAdam , that Ghosts have walk'd ; and kindly did Convey Men heretofore to mony hid ; That they weare Chaines , which rattle 'till they make More noise , than injur'd Ale-wives at a Wake ; All this is free to faith ; but Sozomine , Nor th' Abbot Tretenheim , nor Rh●digine , Nor the ●ew Trip●o , though they all defend Such dreames , can urge one Ghost that Verses pend : Therefore , be pleas'd to thinke , when these are read ; I am no Ghost , nor have beene three weekes dead . Yet Poets that so nobly vaine have beene , To want so carelesly , till want prove sinne ; Through avarice of late , to th' Arches sent , To know the chiefe within my Testament : And th' Aldermen by Charter , title lay ( 'Cause writ 'i th City's Virge ) to my new Play : So if , the Proclamations , kinde , nice care , Keepe you not ( Madam ) from our black raw Aire , Next Terme , you 'll finde it own'd thus on each Wall Writ by the Lord May'r , acted at Guild-Hall . But then I must be dead ; which if you will In curteous pitty feare , and suspect still ; These Mellons shall approach your pensive Eye , Not as a Token but a Legacie . Would they were such , as could have reach'd the sense , To know what use they had of excellence , Since destin'd to be yours ; such as would be ( Now yours ) justly ambitious of a Tree To grow upon ; scorne a dejected birth , Course German Tiles , low Stalks , that lace the Earth ▪ Such , as since gladly yours , got skill , and pow'r , To choose the strongest Sunne , and weakest Showre ▪ Such , as in Groves Cecilian Lovers eat , To coole those wishes , that their Ladies heat . But if the Gard'ner make ( like Adam ) all Our human hopes , bold , and apocryphall ; And that my Mellons prove no better than Those lovely Pompe'ons , which in Barbican , Fencers , and Vaulters Widowes please to eat , Not as a Sallad , but cheap-filling-meat ; Thinke then I 'm dead indeed ; and that they were Early bequeath'd , but pay'd too late i' th Yeare : So the just scornes , of your lov'd wit , no more Can hazard mee , but my Executor .
To the King on New-yeares day 1630.
ODE . ( 1 ) THe joyes of eager Youth , of Wine , and Wealth , Of Faith untroubled , and unphysick'd Health ; Of Lovers , when their Nuptials nie , Of Saints forgiven when they die ; Let this yeare bring To Charles our King : To Charles , who is th' example , and the Law , By whom the good are taught , not kept in awe . ( 2 ) Long proffer'd Peace , and that not compass'd by Expensive Treaties but a Victorie ; And Victories by Fame obtain'd , Or pray'r , and not by slaughter gain'd ; Let this yeare bring : To Charles our King . To Charles ; who is th' example , and the Law , By whom the good are taught , not kept in awe . ( 3 ) A Session too , of such who can obey , As they were gather'd to consult , not sway : Who not rebell , in hope to git Some office to reclaime their wit ; Let this yeare bring To Charles our King ; To Charles ; who is th' example and the law , By whom the good are taught , not kept in awe . ( 4 ) Prators , who will the publique cause defend , With timely gifts , not Speeches finely pend ; So make the Northerne Victors Fame No more our envy , nor our shame ; Let this yeare bring To Charles our King : To Charles ; who is th' example , and the law , By whom the good are taught , not kept in awe .
TO THE QVEENE , presented with a suit , in the behalfe of F. S. directed , From Orpheus Prince of Poets , To the Queene of Light ; In favour of a young listner to his Harpe . I Sing these Numbers in the shady Land , Where Ayrie Princes dwell ; which I command Some Spirit , or some Winde , gently convey To you , whose breath is Spring , whose Eie-beames Day ! 'Gainst your arrivall here , which must be late ; ( Such pow'r the pray'rs of Mortalls have with Fate ) Fields I have dress'd , so rich in scent , and show ; As if your influence taught our Flow'rs to grow : Where still delighted you shall nobly move ; Not like a sad Shadow , as they above With learned falshood most unkindly dreame Of ev'ry Ghost ; but like a beautious Beame . The Lilly , and the Rose ; which Lovers seeke , Not on their stalks , but on their Ladies Cheeke ; Shall here not dare take root ; nor yet the strange And various Tulip ; which so oft doth change Her am'rous Colours to a diff'rent hew , That yearly Men beleeve the Species New . In stead of these ; on ev'ry Bank I 'le shew ( Blith on his stemme ) the nice Adonis grow ; Who though , in 's beauties warm'th belov'd of old ; His transmutation only makes him cold ; For the amazed Goddesse now perceives , Him scarce so faire in 's Flesh , as in his Leaves . Then proud Narcissus ; whose rare beauty had ●arre lesse excuse , and cause , to make him mad , Then in his owne Eyes , flourishing alive ; Than since he was become a Vegative . With these , the jealous Crocus , and the chaste ●emone , whose blushes ever last . ●ow for a cooling Shade , what use have wee ●f the delightfull Lydian-Platan-Tree , Which X●rxes so much lov'd , or of the Lime , Or the tall Pine , which spreads , as it doth climbe ? Or Lovers Sicamore , or mine owne Bay ? On which , since my Euridices sad day , My Harp hath silent hung : No Trees your Bowre Shall need ; the slender stalke of ev'ry Flow'r , When you arrive among us , and dispence The lib'rall comfort of your influence , Shall reach at Body , Rinde , and Boughs ; then grow Till 't yeeld a Shade , as well as Scent , and Show , For your Attendants here ; Tomiris , she That taught her tender sex , the wayes to victorie ; The Queene of Ithaca , whose precious name For chaste desires , is decre to us , and Fame ; And Artimesia whom Truths best Record , Declar'd a living Tomb unto her Lord , Shall ever wait upon your sway ; and when The Destinies are so much vex'd with Men , That the just God-like Monarch of your brest , Is ripe , and fit to take eternall rest ; To court his spirit here , I will not call The testy Pyrrhus , or malicious Hanibal ; Nor yet the fiery Youth of Macedon , Shall have the dignitie t' attend his Throne : But mighty I●lius , who had thoughts so high They humble seem'd , when th' aim'd at victorie ; And own'd a Soule so learn'd ; Truth fear'd that shee Might stand too nak'd , neere his Philosophie : In anger , valiant , gently calme , in love ; He soar'd an Eagle , but he stoop'd a Dove ! Know , Queene of light ; hee onely doth appeare , Fit to embrace your Royall Lover here : Nor thinke my promise is the ayrie boast Of a dead Greeke , a thinne-light-talking-Ghost : It shall be well perform'd ; and all I dare For those just toyles commend unto your care ; Is but a Poets humble suit ; who now With everlasting Wreaths may deck his Brow ; Since first your Poet call'd ; and by that stile He is my Deputy throughout your Isle .
To the Lord B. in performance of a vow , that night to write to him . MY Lord , it hath beene ask'd , why 'mongst those few I singled out for Fame , I chose not you With early speed the first ? but I , that strive My manners should preserve my Verse alive ; That read Men , and my selfe ; would not permit The boldnesse of my love , should tax my wit . There are degrees , that to the Altar lead ; Where ev'ry rude , dull Sinner must not tread : 'T is not to bring , a swift thankes-giving Tongue , Or prayers made as vehement as long , Can privilege a zealous Votarie , To come , where the High Priest should only be : Then why should I ( where some more skilfull hand May offer Gummes , and Spice ) strew Dust , and Sand And this ( my chiefe of Lords ) made me designe ▪ Those noble flames , sprung from your nobler Wine , To keepe my spirits warme ; till I could prove My Numbers smooth , and mighty as my love : Yet such my treach'rous fate , that I this night ( Fierce with untutor'd heat ) did vow to write : But happy those , who undertake no more Than what their stock of rage hath rul'd before ! It is a Poet's sinne , that doth excell In love , or wine , not to resolve how well , But strait how much to write ; for then wee think The vast tumultuous Sea is but our Ink ; The World , our Forest too ; and that wee may Beleeve each Tree , that in it growes , a Bay . My Vow now kept , I 'm loth ( my Lord ) to doe Wrong to your justice , and your mercy too ; The last , if you vouchsafe ; you will excuse A strong Religion here , though not a Must ▪
To Endimion Porter . HOw safe ( Endimion ) had I liv'd ? how blest , In all the silent privacies of rest ? How might I lengthen sleeps , had I beene wise Unto my selfe , and never seene thine Eyes ? My Verse ( unenvy'd then ) had learn'd to move A slow , meeke pace ; like sober Hymns of love By some noch'd-Brownist sung ; that would indeere His holy itch , to some chaste Midwives Eare : The pleasure of ambition then had bin , To me lost in the danger , and the sinne : The Mirtle Sprig ( that never can decay ) ● had not knowne , nor Wreaths of living Bay : In stead of these , and the wild Ivy Twine , ( Which our wise Fathers justly did assigne , To him that in immortall Verse exceeds ) My Brow had worne , some homly Wreath of Weeds : And such low pride is safe : for though the Bay Lightning , nor Winds can blast , yet Envy may . If hidden still from thee , I should have lesse To answer now , for glory , and excesse : My surfets had not reach'd the cunning yet , To seeke an expiation from their wit : For more than Village Ale , and drowsie Beere , ( Cawdles , and Broth to the dull Islander ) I nere had wish'd ; now , My Man , hot , and dry , With fierce transcriptions of my Poesie ; Cryes , Sir , I thirst ! then strait I bid him chuse ( As Poets Prentices did surely use Of Greece , and Rome ) some cleere , cheap Brook ; there stay , And drinke at Natures charge his thirst away : Though Fasts ( more than are taught i' th Kalender ) Had made him weake ; this gave him strength to sweare ; And urge , that after H●race the divine Maecenas knew , his Slaves drunke ever Wine : So whilst Endimion lives , hee vowes to pierce Old Gascoine Caske , or not transcribe a verse . If never knowne to thee , missing the skill How to doe good , I should have found my ill Excus'd : Th' excessive charge of Ink , and Oyle , Expence of quiet sleepes , and the vaine toyle , In which the Priest of Smyrna tooke delight , ( When he for knowledge chang'd his precious sight ) Had scap'd me then ; now whilst I strive to please With tedious Art , I lose the lust of ease . And when our Poets ( enviously miss-led ) Shall finde themselves out-written , and out-read ; T' will urge their sorrow too , that thou didst give To my weake Numbers , strength , and joy to live . But O! uneasie thoughts ! what will become Of me , when thou retir'st into a Tombe ? The Cruell , and the Envious then will say , Since now his Lord is dead ; he that did sway Our publique smiles , opinion , and our praise , Till wee this Childe of Poesie did raise To Fame , and love ; let 's drowne him in our Inke ; Where like a lost dull Plummet let him sinke From humane sight ; from knowledge he was borne ; Unlesse Succession finde him in our scorne . Remembrance , never to Repentance showes , The wealth wee gaine , but what wee feare to lose ; Thou art my wealth ; and more than Light ere spy'd , Than Easterne Hills bring forth , or Seas can hide : But thus when I rejoyce , my feares divine , I want the fate , still to preserve thee mine : And Kings depos'd , wish they had never knowne Delight , nor sway ; which erst they toyl'd to owne .
Ieffereidos , Or the Captivitie of Jeffery .
Canto the first . A Sayle ! a sayle ! cry'd they , who did consent Once more to break the eighth Commandement For a few Coles ; of which by theft ●o well Th' are stor'd ; they have enow to furnish Hell With penall heat ; though each sad Devill there A frozen Muscovite , or Russian were : The chase grew swift ; whilst an old weary Pinke , Not us'd to fly , and somewhat loth to sinke , Did yeeld unto the Foe ; who boards●her strait ; And having rifled all her precious Freight ; A trembling Britaine kneeles , and did beseech Each composition there , of Tarre and Pitch , That they would heare him speake : 't is not ( quoth he ) Our kinde respect to wealth , or libertie , Begets this feare ; but lest blind Fortune may Unto some fierce , unruly hand betray , The truest Servant to a State , that cou'd Be giv'n a Nation out of flesh and bloud : And hee tall Ieff'ry height ! who not much us'd To fights at Sea , and loth to be abus'd , Resolv'd to hide him , where they sooner might Discover him , with smelling than with sight . Each Eye was now imploy'd ; no man could thinke Of any uncouth Nooke , or narrow Chinke , But strait they ●ought him there ; in holes not deep But small , where slender Magots us'd to creep : At last , they found him clo●e , beneath a spick And almost span-new-pewter-Candlestick . A sapient Dicgo , that had now command Of Ships and Victorie , tooke him in hand : Peis'd him twise , tasted his discourse ; at●ength Beleev'd , that he di●sembled wit , and strength : Quoth he , Victors , and Vanqui●hed ▪ I bid You all give eare , to wisdome of Madrid ▪ This that appeares to you , a walking-Thumbe , May prove , the gen'rall Spie of Christendome : Then calls for Chaines , but such as fitting seeme , For Elephants , when manag'd in a Teeme . Whilst puissant Ieff'ry 'gins to wish ( in vaine ) He had long since contriv'd a truce with Spaine . His Sinewes faile him now ; nor doth hee yeeld Much trust unto his Buckler , or his Shield ; Yet threatens like a second Tamberlaine , To bring them 'fore the Queenes Lord-Chamberlaine ▪ Because without the leave , of him , or her , They keepe her Houshold-Servant prisoner . Diego , that study'd wrath , more than remorse , Commands , that they to Dunkerk steere their course : Whilst Captive - Ieffr'y snewes to wiser sight , Just like a melancholy Isralite , In midst of 's journey unto Babylon ; Melt marble hearts , that chance to thinke thereon ▪ The Winds are guilty too ; for now behold Already landed this our Brittaine bold ! The People view him round ; some take their oath He 's humane Issue , but not yet of growth : And others ( that more sub'tly did conferre ) Thinke him a small , contracted Conjurer : Then Diego , Bred●o names ! Hemskerk ! and cryes , Hans van Geulick ! Derick too ! place your Thighs On this judiciall Bench ; that wee may sit T' undoe , this short-Embassadour with wit . One , faine would know's discent : Thou Pirat-Dogge ( The wrathfull Captive then reply'd ) not Ogge ( The Bashan King ) was my Progenitor ; Nor doe I strive , to fetch my Ancestor From Anack's Sonnes , nor from the Genitals Of wrastling - Cacus , who gave many falls . No matter for his birth , sayd Diego then ; Bring hither strait the Rack ! for it is Ten To one , this will enforce from out his Pate , Some secrets , that concerne the English State . But O! true , loyall Heart ! he 'ld not one word Reveale , that he had heard at Councell-bord . Some ask'd him then , his bus'nesse late in France ; What Instruments lay there conceal'd t' advance The Bri●tish cause ? when they perceiv'd his heart ; Was bigge , and whilst enforc'd , would nought impart ; Diego arose ; and said , Sir , I beseech you , Acquaint us if the Cardinall de Richel●eu Intend a warre , in Italy , or no ? ( Most noble Ieff'ry still ● ) hee seemes to know Nought of that point ; though divers think , when there ; The Cardinall did whisper in his eare The Scheame of all his plots ; and sought to gaine His company along with him to Spaine ; For thither he 'll march , if he can by th' way Sweep a few durty Nations into th' Sea . A solemne Monke , that silent stood close by , Beleev'd this little Captive , a Church-Spie ! Quoth he , that shrivled face , hath Schysme in it ; And lately there 's a learned volumne writ , Wherein Ben-●harky , and Ben-Ezra too , And Rabin Kimky eke , a learned Jew , Are cited all ; it labours to make good , That there were Protestants before the Flood ; And thou its Author art : Ieff'ry swore then , He never knew those Hebrew Gentlemen ! When they perceiv'd , nor threats , nor kindnesse sought From love , could get him to discover ought ; Diego leaves the Table ; sweares by his Skarffe ; The thing , they doubted thus , was a meere Dwarffe . The fleetest Izeland-Shock , they then provide ; On which they mount him strait , and bid him ride : He weepes a teare or two , for 's Jewells lost ; And so , with heavy heart , to Bruxels post .
Ieffereidos , Or the Captivitie of Jeffery .
Canto the second . SO runs the nimble Snayle , in slimy track , Hast'ning with all his Tenement on 's back ; And so , on goodly Cabidge-leafe , the fleet Swift-Caterpiller moves with eager feet , As this sad Courtier now ; whose mighty Steed May for an easie amble , or for speed , Compare with gentle Bull in Yoke : But O! Here now begins a Canticle of woe ! Chide cruell Fate , whose buisnesse in the Spheares , Wise Ieff'ry notes , is but to cause our Teares : Their rule , and pow'r ( quoth he ) is understood , More in the harme they doe us , than the good : And this hee say'd , because he scarce had driven Along that Coast , the length of Inches Seven , But downe his Izeland fell ; some Authors say A burly Oake , lay there disguis'd in 's way ; Others a Rush ; and some report , his Steed Did stumble , at the splinter of a Reed ; And some ( far more authentick ) say agin , 'T was at a haire , that drop'd from humane Chin : But though , the sage Historians are at strife , How to resolve this point ; his Coursers life They hold lost in the fall ; whilst the discreet Ieff'ry was forc'd , to wander on his Feet . Old wives , that saw the sorrowes of this Spy , Their wither'd Lips ( thinner than Lids of Eye ) Strait opened wide ; and tickled with his wrongs , Did laugh , as if t' were ●ech'ry to their Lungs ; And Diego too , whose grave , and solemne Brow , Was ever knit , grew loud , and wanton now : O for a Guard ( quoth he ) of Switzers here , To heave that Giant up ! but come not neere ; For now enrag'd , he may perchance so tosse us , As you would thinke , you touch'd a live Colossus ! This Ieff'ry heard ; and it did stir his gall , More than his Coursers death , or his owne fall . Sorrowes , that hasten to us , are but slow In their departure ; as the learn'd may know By this sad Story ; since new cause was given ; For which our deepe Platonick questions Heaven . O cruell Starres ( quoth he ) will you still so Officious be , to trouble us below ? 'T is say'd your care doth governe us ; d' ye call That care , to let Ambassadours thus fall ? Nay , and permit worse dangers to ensue ? Though all your rule , and influence be true ; I had as leefe ( since mortals thus you handle ) Be govern'd by the influence of a Candle . This he had cause to say ; for now behold A Foule of spatious wing , bloody , and bold In his aspect ; haughty in gate , and stiffe on His large spread Clawes he stood , as any Griffon ; Though , by kinde , a Turkey ; whose plot that way Was like a subtle Scowt to watch for prey ; Such as is blowne about by ev'ry wind ; But here 's the dire mistake ; this Foule ( halfe blinde ) At Ieff'ry pecks , and with intent to eat Him up , in stead of a large graine of Wheat : Ieff'ry ( in duell nice ) ne're thinks upon 't , As the Turkeys hunger , but an affront . His sword he drew ; a better none alive E're got from Spanish Foe , for Shillings Five . And now , the Battaile doth begin : sound high Your Oaten Reeds , t' encourage Victorie ! Strike up the wrathfull Tabor ! and the Gitthern ; The loud Jew's-trump ! and Spirit-stirring-Cittherne ! Ieff'ry the bold , as if he had o'reheard These Instruments of Warre , his Arme uprear'd , Then cryes St. George for England ! and with that word He mischief'd ( what I pray ? ) nought but his sword : Though some report , he noch'd the Foes left wing ; And Poets too , who faithfully did sing This Battaile in Low-Dutch , tell of a few Small Feathers there , which at the first charge flew About the field ; but doe not strictly know That they were shed by fury of that blow . This they affirme ; the Turkey in his looke Express'd how much , he it unkindly tooke , That wanting food ; our Ieff'ry would not let him , Enjoy awhile the privilege to eat him : His Taile he spreads , jets back ; then turnes agen ; And fought , as if , for th' honour of his Hen: Ieff'ry retorts each stroke ; and then cryes ; Mauger Thy strength , I will dissect thee like an Augure ! But who of mortall race , deserves to write The next encounter in this bloudy fight ? Wisely didst thou ( O Poet of Anchusin ; ) Stay here thy Pen , and lure thy eager Muse in ; Envoking Mars , some halfe an houre at least , To helpe thy fury onward with the rest : For Ieff'ry strait was throwne ; whilst saint , and weake , The cruell Foe , assaults him with his Beake . A Lady-Midwife now , he there by chance Espy'd , that came along with him from France : A heart nours'd up in War ; that ne're before This time ( quoth he ) could bow , now doth implore : Thou that deliver'd hast so many , be So kinde of nature , to deliver me ! But stay : for though the learn'd Chronologer Of Dunkerk , doth confesse him freed by her ; The subt'ler Poets yet , whom wee translate In all this Epick Ode , doe not relate The manner how ; and wee are loth at all To vary from the Dutch Originall . Deeds they report , of greater height than these ; Wonders , and truth ; which if the Court-wits please , A little helpe from Nature , lesse from Art , May happily produce in a Third part .
For the Lady , Olivia Porter .
A present , upon a New-yeares day . GOE ! hunt the whiter Ermine ! and present His wealthy skin , as this dayes Tribute sent To my Endimion's Love ; Though she be farre More gently smooth , more soft than Ermines are ! Goe ! climbe that Rock ! and when thou there hast found A Starre , contracted in a Diamond , Give it Endimion's Love ; whose lasting Eyes , Out-looke the Starry Jewells of the Skies ! Goe ! dive into the Southern Sea ! and when Th' ast found ( to trouble the nice sight of Men ) A swelling Pearle ; and such whose single worth , Boasts all the wonders which the Seas bring forth ; Give it Endimion's Love ! whose ev'ry Teare , Would more enrich the skillfull Jeweller . How I command ? how slowly they obey ? The churlish Tartar , will no● hunt to day : Nor will that lazy , sallow - Indian strive To climbe the Rock , nor that dull Negro dive . Thus Poets like to Kings ▪ ( by trust deceiv'd ) Give oftner what is heard off , than receiv'd .
To I. C. Rob'd by his Man ANDREW . SIr , whom I now love more , than did the good Saint Martin , that all-naked-Flesh-and-blood , Whose Cloake ( at Plimmouth spun ) was Crab-Tree wood . His owne was Tammie sure ; which made it teare So soone into a gift ; and thou ( I feare ) Wilt beg halfe mine , not to bestow , but weare . For thy Saint - Andrew sought not out the way To keepe thee warme , but make thee watch , and pray ; That is , for his returne ; about , Doomes-day ; Worse left , than blushing Adam , who withdrew The nakednesse he fear'd , more than he knew , Not to a Mercers , but where Fig-leaves grew : Which sew'd with strings of slender Weeds , cloath Men Cheaper than Silks , that must be paid for , when ▪ It pleases the chiefe Scribe , 'o th Chamberlen . Though my sick Joints , cannot accompany Thy Hue-on-cry ; though Midnight parlies be Silenc'd long since , 'tween Constables , and me ; Without their helpes , or Suburb-Justices , ( Upon whose justice now an impost lies , For with the price of Beefe , their Warrants rise ) I 'le finde this Andrew strait . See , where the pale Wretch stands : Thy guiltlesse Robes ( ne're hang'd for fale ; ) He executes , on Sundry Brokers Nayle . In stead of him ( chas'd thence by his wise feare ) Does the Mothers joy , a bold Youth appeare ; Who swaggers up to Forty Markes a yeare ! Sometimes he troubles Law , at th' Inns of Court ; Now comes , to buy him Weeds of shining sort ; And faine would have thy Cloake , but'tis too short : Too short ( neat Sir ) was all thy rifled store ; Which made those Brokers curse thy stature more , Than thou , Fiend - Andrew , the sad day before . But hark ! who knocks ? good troth my Muse is staid , By an Apothecaries Bill unpaid ; Whose length , not strange-nam'd-Drugs , makes her afraid .
To the Earle of Portland , Lord Treasurer ; on the mariage of his Sonne . MY Lord , this Night is yours ! each wandring Star That was nnbusi'd , and irregular ; Most gravely now , his bright Companion leads , To fix o're your glad Roofe , their shining Heads . And it is sayd , th' exemplar King 's your guest ; And that the rich-Ey'd-Darling of his Breast , ( To ripen all your Joyes ) will there become The Musick , Odor , Light , of ev'ry Roome ! A mixture of two noble bloods , in all Faith , and domestick nature , union call , No trava●l'd Eyes have seene , with humbler state Of love perform'd , where Princes celebrate . This when I heard ; I know not what bold Starre My Spirits urg'd , but it was easier farre The torne , the injur'd Panther , to restraine In 's hot pursuit , or stroke him coole againe ; To tell the cause , why Winds doe disagree , Divide them when in Stormes they mingled be ; Strait fix them single , where they breath'd before ; Or fanne them with a Plume , from Sea to Shore ; Than bind my raging Temples , or resist The pow'r that swell'd me , as Apollo's Priest . Therefore my Robe , that on his Altar lay , My Virge , my Wreath , I tooke ; and thus did pray : That you ( my Lord ) with lasting memory , And strength of fervent youth , may live to see , Your name in this blest nuptiall store the Earth , With such a masculine , and knowing birth ; As shall at factious Councells moderate , And force injurious Armies to their fate . Let Time be fetter'd , that they never may Increasing others , feele themselves decay . To you ( my Lord ) who with wise industrie , Seeke Virtue out , then give it strength to be ; Where ere you shall recide , let Plenty bring , The pride , and expectations of the Spring ; The wealth that loads inticing Autumne grow Within your reach ; let hasty Rivers flow 'Till on your shores , they skaly Tribute pay , Then ebbe themselves in empty Waves away : Let each pale Flow'r , that springeth there , have pow'r T' invite a Sunne-beame , and command a Show'r ; The dew that falls about you taste of Wine , Each abject Weed change root , and be a Vine ! But I with this prophetick plenty grow Already rich , and proud ; 'cause then I know The Poets of this Isle , in Vineyards may Rejoyce , whilst others thirst in groves of Bay ! Sir , let me not your wary patience move ; And sinne , with too much courage of my love ! He that in strength of wishes , next shall trie , T' increase your blessings with his Poesie , May shew a fiercer Wit , and cleaner Art , But not a more sincere , and eager Heart .
THE QVEENE , returning to London after a long absence . HOw had you walk'd in Mists of Sea-coalesmoake , Such as your ever teeming Wives would choak , ( Fa●●e Sonnes of thrift ! ) did not her beauties light , Dispell your Clouds , and quicken your dull sight ? As when , th' illustrious Officer of Day , ( First worship'd in the East ) 'gins to display The glory of his beames ; then Buds unfold Their chary Leafes ; each dew-drownd Marigold Insensibly doth stirre it selfe , and spread ; Each Violet lifts up , the pensive Head ; So when the Rayes of her faire Eyes appeare , To warme , and gild your clouded Hemispheare ; Those Flow'rs which in your narrow Gardens grow , ( Narrow as Turfs , which you a Lark allow In 's wicker Cage ) rejoyce upon their stalks ; Imbellishing your sommer inch-broad walks : But she remov'd , what all your weary'd lives , You plant in German pots , to please your Wives , Shall fade ; scarce in your Climate shall be seene Enough of Spring to make your Tansies green . Nor shall your blew-Ey'd-Daughters more appeare ( Though in the hopefull'st season of the Yeare ) In the dark street , where Tantlin's Temple stands , With Time , and Marg'rom Posies in their hands . Wee know ( distrustfull Bergainers ! ) you most Love sacrifice , that puts you least to cost ; Give her your prayers then ; that her Lookes may After long Nights , restore you unto Day . Though Ringing be some charge , and Wood grew deere ; In troth ; it will become you once a yeare , To offer Bells , and Bonfires too , alltho ' You couzen't out in Silks , next publique Show .
To I. W. Vpon the death of his Mistresse . AS the great Sonnes of War , that are rays'd high With eager heats , of frequent Victorie , Grow to such lazy pride ; they take it ill Men still should put them to the paines to kill ; And would , at each sterne becken of the Eye , Have the sad Foe , vaile Plumes , take leave , and dye : So thou ; as if thy Sorrowes had o'recome Halfe the wise world , and struck all reason dumbe ; Cry'st , she is dead ! and frown'st , because I now Take not my Wreath ( the treasure of my Brow ) Then hurle my selfe , and it , a Sacrifice In hallow'd flames , to her departed Eyes . 'Cause early Men , their Curtaines draw , and say Behold the Sunne is risen , now'tis day ; Knowing thy Sunne is set , thou swearst their sight , Is led by bus'nesse t' a miss-take of Light . Lovers beleeve , if yet th' Almighty cou'd Doabt part of his so swift creation good ; To ease him of another Fiat , they Can with their Mistresse beames , make him a day : To rule the Night , each Glance ( they thinke ) will fit Planets to largest Spheares , if wee admit Their silly Priests ( the Poets ) be but by , That love to sooth such faith t'idolatrie . But how have I transgress'd , thus to declame 'Gainst sorrow I should envy more than blame ? For what is he , though reverendly old , And than a Mountaine Muscovite more cold ; Though he want Wit , or nature to desire ; Though his hard heart be Ir'ne , his heart-strings Wire : Or what is he , though blind , and knowes no good Of love , but by an itching faith in 's blood , That when thy Tongue her beauty open layes To mentall view , and her soft minde displayes , Will thinke thy griefe was over-pay'd , or yet Bate the world one Sigh , of so just a debt ? But she is gone ! Repine now , if you dare ; Like Heav'ns unlicenc'd Fooles , all punish'd are For Nature as for crimes ; yet cannot choose But mourne for ev'ry excellence wee loose ; Though still commanded to a tame content ; To thinke no good was given us , but lent : And a fond ridle in Philosophy , Perswades us too ; the Virtuous never dye ; That all the ills , which wee in absence finde Concerne the Eye-sight only , not the Minde : But Lovers ( whose wise Sences take delight In warme contaction , and in reall sight ) Are not with leane imagination fed , Or satisfi'd , with thinking on the Dead . 'T is fit wee seeke her then ; but he that finds Her out , must enter friendship with the Winds ; Enquire their dwelling , and uncertaine walks ; Whither they blow , from their forsaken Stalks Flow'rs that are gone , ere they are smelt ? or how Dispose o' th sweeter Blossoms of the Bough ? For She ( the Tresuresse of these ) is fled , Not having the dull leasure to be dead ; But t'hoord this Wealth ; returne , and this Wealth bring Still vary'd , and encreas'd in ev'ry Spring .
To Endimion Porter . IT is ( Lord of my Muse and heart ) since last Thy sight inspir'd me , many ages past ▪ In darknesse thick as ill-met Clouds can make , In sleeps wherein the last Trump scarce could wake The guiltlesse dead , I lay ; and hidden more Than Truth , which testy Controverts explore . More hid than paths of Snakes , to their deep beds , Or walkes of Mountaine-Springs from their first Heads : And when my long forgotten Eies , and Mind , Awak'd ; I thought to see the Sunne declin'd Through age , to th' influence of a Starre , and Men So small , that they might live in Wombes agen . But now , my strength 's so giantly , that were The great Hill-lifters once more toyling here ; They 'ld choose me out , for active Back , for Bone , To heave at ●ae●io● first , and heave alone . Now by the softnesse of thy noble care , Reason , and Light , my lov'd Companions are ; I may too , ere this Moone be lost , refine My bloud , and bathe my Temples with thy Wine : And then , know my Endimion ( thou , whose name To 'th World example is , Musick to Fame ) I 'le trie if Art , and Nature , able be From the whole strength , and stock of P●e●ie , To pay thee my large debts ; such as the poore In open Blushes , hidden Hearts restore .
Epitaph , on I. Walker . ENvy'd , and lov'd , here lies the Prince of mirth ! Who laugh'd , at the grave bus'nesse of the Earth . Look'd on ambitious States-men with such Eyes , As might discerne them guilty , could not wise . That did the noyse of Warr , and Battailes heare , As mov'd to smiling pitty , not to feare : Thought fighting Princes at their dying sad ; Beleev'd , both Victors , and the Conquer'd mad : Might have beene rich , as oft as he would please , But wayes to Wealth , are not the wayes to Ease . The wit , and courage of his talke , now rests , In their impatient keeping that steale Jeasts ; His Jeasts , who e're shall Father , and repeat Small mem'ry needs , but let 's estate be great , Danger so season'd them , each hath Salt le●t , Will yet undoe the Poore for one small theft ; The Rich , that will owne them , what e're they pay , Shall finde , 't is twice a weeke Star-Chamber day .
To Doctor Cademan , Physitian to the Queene . FOr thy Victorious cares , thy ready heart ; Thy so small tyranny to so much Art ; For visits made to my disease And me , ( Alas ) not to my Fees : For words , so often comforting with scope ●●●●arned reason , not perswasive hope : For Med'cines so benigne , as seeme Cordials for Easterne Queenes that teeme . For setting now my condemn'd Body free , From that no God , but Devill Mercurie : For an assurance , I ne're shall A forfeit be to 'th Admirall ; Like those in Hospitals , who dare presume To make French Cordage now of English Rhume ; Or slender Ropes , on which , in stead Of Pearle , revolted Teeth they thred ; For limitting my Cheekes , that else had beene Swolne like the signe , o' th Head o' th Saracen ; For preservation from a long Concealement of my Mother-Tongue ; Whilst speechlesse , sow'd in Hoods , I should appeare , An Antarminian , silenc'd Minister ; Or some Turks poyson'd Mute ; so fret So fome at mouth , make signes , and spet . Whilst all I eat , goes downe , with lookes to sight More forc'd , than Quailes t' each full-cramm'd Isralite ; Whose angry swallowing denotes They lay at Flux , and had sore throats . For these deliverances , and all the good My new returne of Senses , strength , and blood , Shall bring ; for all I mine can boast , Whilst my Endimion is not lost , Sy'th feeble influence of my Starre ; or turnes From me , to one whose Planet cleerer burnes ; May ( thou safe Lord of Arts ) each Spring Ripe plenty of Diseases bring Unto the Rich ; they still t' our Surgeons be Experiments , Patients alone to thee : Health , to the Poore ; lest pitty shou'd ( That gently stirs , and rules thy blood ) Tempt thee from wealth , to such as pay like mee A Verse ; then thinke , they give Eternity .
To Endimion Porter , When my Comedy ( call'd the Wits ) was presented at Black ▪ Fryars . HEare , how for want of others griefe , I mourne My sad decay , and weepe at mine owne Ur●e ● The Hou'rs ( that ne're want Wings , when they should fly To hasten Death , or lead on Destinie , ) Have now fulfill'd the time , when I must come Chain'd to the Muses Barre , to take my doome : Where ev'ry Terme , some tim'rous Poet stand ▪ Condemn'd by whispers , e're repriv'd by hands . I that am told conspiracies are laid , To have my Muse , her Arts , and life betray'd , Hope for no easie Judge ; though thou wert there , T' appease , and make their judgements lesse severe ▪ In this black day , like Men from Thunders rage , Or drowning showres , I hasten from the stage ; And wish my selfe , some Spirit , hid within Those distant , wandring Winds , that yet have bin Unknowne to 'th Compasse , or the Pilots skill ; Or some loose Plumet , sunke so low , untill I touch where roots of Rocks deepe bury'd be ; There mourne , beneath the leafelesse Corall Tree . But I am growne too tame ! what need I feare , Whilst not to passion , but thy reason cleere ? Should I perceive , thy knowledge were subdu'd , T'unkinde consent with the harsh Multitude , Then I had cause to weep ; and at thy Gate ( Deny'd to enter ) stand disconsolate ; Amaz'd , and lost to mine owne Eyes ; there I ( Scarce griev'd-for by my selfe ) would winke and dye : Olivia then , may on thy pitty call To bury me , and give mee funerall .
In celebration of the yearely Preserver of the Games at COTSWALD . HEare me you Men of strife ! you that have bin , Long time maintain'd by the dull Peoples sin , At Lyon's , Furnifold's , and Cleme●t's Inne ! With huge , o're-comming Mutton , Target-Cheese , Beefe , that the queasie stomack'd Guard would please , And limber Groats , full halfe a Score for Fees . Heare you Gown'd Lackeys that on both sides plead ! Whose hollow Teeth , are stuff'd with others Bread ; Whose Tongues will live ( sure ) when your selves are dead . Here you Alcaldos , whose sterne faces looke , Worse than your Pris'ner's that's deny'd his Booke ; Than Pilat painted like a scalded Cooke . Lift all that toyle for pow'r to doe Men wrong , With penseve Eare , to my prophetick Song ! Whose Magick sayes , your Triumphs hold not long . The time is come , you on your selves shall sit ; Whilst Children finde ( if they endevour it ) Your learning , Chronicle ; Clinches , your Wit. . Ere you a Yeare are dead , your Sonnes shall watch , And rore all Night with Ale , in house of Thatch ; And spend , 'till Swords are worne in Belts of Match . Whilst D●ver ( that his knowledge not imploy's T' increase his Neighbors Quarrels , but their Joyes ; ) Shall in his age ; get Money , Girles , and Boyes ! Mony , at Cotswald Games shall yearely fly ; Whilst the Precise , and Envious shall stand by , And see his Min'rall Fountaine never dry . His Girles , shall dowr'-lesse w●d with Heires of birth ; His Boyes , plough London Widowes up like earth : Whilst Cotswald Bards caroll their Nuptiall Mirth ▪ ●over ( the Gentry's Darling ) know this frame , ●s but a willing tribute to thy Fam● , ●ung by a Poet , that conceals his name .
On the Death of the Lady Marquesse of WINCHESTER . IN care , lest some advent'rous Lover may ( T' increase his love ) cast his owne Stock away ; I ( that finde , th' use of griefe is to grow wise ) Forbid all trassique now 'tweene Hearts , and Eyes : Our remnant-love , let us discreetly save , Since not augment ; for Love , lies in the Grave . Lest Men ; whose patience is their senses sloth , That only live , t' expect the tedious growth Of what the following Sommer slowly yeelds ; Whose faire Elizium , is their furrow'd Fields ; Lest these , should so much prize mortalitie ; They ne're would reach the wit , or faith to die ; Know , Summer comes no more ; to the dark bed Our Sunne is gone ; the hopefull Spring is dead . And lest kind Poets , that delight to raise ● With their just truths , not extasie of praise ) Beauty to Fame ; should ra●hly overthrow The credit of their Songs ; I let them know Their Theame is lost ; so lost , that I have griev'd , They never more can praise , and be beleev'd .
To Endimion Porter , upo his recovery from a long Sicknesse . Iust so the Sunne doth rise , as if last Night He cal'd t'accompt the Moone , for all the light She ever ow'd ; now looks so full of scorne , And pride ; as she had payd him all this Morne ! So cleere a day , timely foretells ; I now Shall scape those Clouds , that hung upon my Bro● Whilst I thy sicknesse mourn'd ; and lesse did sleep Than faithfull Widowes , that sincerely weep . A true presage ! My hopes no sooner tell What they desir'd , but strait I finde thee well . Bless'd be the Stars ; whose pow'rfull influence Our healths , by Minerals , and Hearbs dispence ! And that 's their chiefest use : who thinks that Fa●● So many Stars did purposely create , And them so large , meerely for show , and light ; Concludes , it tooke lesse care , of Day , than Night . Since thou art safe , those Numbers will be lost , Which I laid up , to mourne thee as a Ghost : Unlesse I spend them on some Tragick Tale , Which Lovers shall beleeve , and then bewaile : Next Terme , prepare thee for the Theater ! And untill then , reserve thy skilfull Eare ; For I will sing imagin'd Tragedie , 'Till Fates repent their essence is so high From passion rays'd ; 'cause they can ne're obtaine To taste the griefs , which gentle Poets feigne .
Vpon the nuptials of Charles , Lord Herbert , and the Lady M. Villers . ROses 'till ripe , and ready to be blowne , Their beauty hide , whilst it is yet their owne ; 'T is ours but in expectance , whilst th' are greene ; And bashfully they blush when first 't is seene : As if to spread their beauty were a crime ; A fault in them , not in all-ripening-Time . So stands ( hidden with Vayles ) in all her pride Of early flourishing , the bashfull Bride ! And 'till the Priest , with words devoutly said , Shall ripen her a Wife , that 's yet a Maid , Her Vaile will never off : so modest still , And so express'd by Nature , not by skill , That sure she dress'd her lookes when she did ri●e , Not in her Glasse , but in her Mother's Eyes . The jolly Bridegrome stands , as he had t'an● And led , Love strongly fetter'd in a Chaine : Forgetting when her Vailes are lay'd aside , Himselfe , is but a Captive to the Bride . The Priest now joynes their hands , and hee doth finde ( By mysterie divine , ) in both one minde , Mix'd , and dispers'd ; his spirits strait begin ( As they were rap't ) to vex , and talke within : His Temples swett , whilst he stood silent by , Not as prepar'd to blesse , but prophesie : What nee●ded more ? since they must needs posses●e , All he fo●e-told , though he should never blesse : And blessing unto such , at most restores , Or but repeats , what was their Ancestors .
Prologue to a reviv'd Play of Mr Fletcher's , call'd The Woman-ha●er . LAdies ! take 't as a secret in your Eare , In stead of homage , and kind welcome here , I heartily could wish , you all were gone ; For if you stay , good faith , wee are undone . Alas ! you now expect , the usuall wayes Of our addresse , which is , your Sexes praise : But wee to night , unluckily must speake , Such things , will make your Lovers Heart-strings breake ; Bely your Virtues , and your beauties staine , With words , contriv'd long since , in your disdaine . 'T is strange you stirre not yet ; not all this while Lift up your Fannes , to hide a scornefull smile : Whisper , nor jog your Lords to steale away ; So leave us t' act , unto our selves , our Play : Then sure , there may be hope , you can subdue , Your patience to endure , an Act , or two : Nay more , when you are told , our Poets rage Pursues but one example , which that age Wherein he liv'd produc'd ; and wee rely Not on the truth , but the varietie . His Muse beleev'd not , what she then did write ; Her Wings , were wom to make a nobler flight ; Soar'd high , and to the Stars , your Sex did raise ; For which , full Twenty yeares , he wore the Bayes . 'T was hee reduc'd Evadne from her scorne , And taught the sad Aspasia how to mourne ; Gave Arethusa's love , a glad releefe ; And made Panthea elegant in griefe . If these great Trophies of his noble Muse , Cannot one humor 'gainst your Sex excuse Which wee present to night ; you 'l finde a way How to make good , the Libell in our Play : So you are cruell to your selves ; whilst he ( Safe in the fame of his integritie ) Will be a Prophet , not a Poet thought ; And this fine Web last long , though loosely wrought .
To Endimion Porter , passing to Court to him , by water .
ODE . ( 1 ) THe truth and wisdome of your Compasse boast ( Dull Men of th' Sea ! ) when you the flow'rie Coast Have reach'd , to which you steere ; Thinke then , those Clouds are shrunke againe , That swell'd , as if they hoorded Rayne For all the Yeare . Thinke then , those ruder Winds are dumbe , That would endevour Stormes to come ; And that the Rocks no more ( As they were wont ) shall hide themselves , To practise mischiefe on the Shelves So neere the shore . ( 2 ) Into the Silver Flood I launch'd ; and fraught My Bark with Hope , the Parasite of thought : To Court my voyage tends ; But Hope grew sick , and wish'd me feare , The Bark would split , that harbour'd there To trade for Friends . Wise Love , that sought a noble choyce , To tune my Harp , and raise my Voyce , Forbids my Pinnace rest ; 'Till I had cur'd weake Hope agin , By safely Anchoring within Endimion's Brest . ( 3 ) Endimion ! who , with Numbers sweet can move Soules ( though untun'd ) to such degrees of love ; That Men shall sooner see , Th' inticed Needle disobey The tempting Adamant , than they His Poesie : And I ( exalted now , ) ne're minde Their breath , who storm'd , t' increase the Winde By which th' are overthrowne ; Their Stock of rage , and Lyrick skill , They boast in vaine ; the Poets Hill Is all mine owne .
Elegie on B. Haselrick , slaine in 's youth , in a Duell . NOw in the blinde , and quiet age of Night , So dark , as if the funerall of Light Were celebrated here ; whither with slow , Unwilling feet , sad Virgins doe you goe ? Where have you left your reason , and your feare ? What meane those Violets that downe-ward weare Their heads , as griev'd , since thus imploy'd they grew ? Lilies , scar'd by your lookes , to their pale how ? Roses , that lost their blushes on the Bough , And Laurell stolne from some dead Poets Brow ? These , and your looser Haire , shew that you come To scatter both , on that relenting Tombe . But stay ! by this moyst pavement it appeares , Some Ladies have beene earli'r here with Teares Than I , or you ; and wee can gue●●e no more , Those that succeed , by these that drop'd before ; Than by the Dew , falne in a Cow●lips wombe , Heav'n's Treasurie of Showrs that are to come . The Curtain 's drawne ! looke there , and you shall spie The faded God of your Idolatrie ! Cold as the feet of Rocks , silent in shade As Chaos lay , before the Winds were made . Yet this was once the Flow'r , on whom the Day So smil'd , as if he never should decay : Soft , as the hands of Love , smooth as her brow ; So young in shew , as if he still should grow ; Yet perfected with all the pride of strength , Equall in Limbs , and square unto his length : And though the jealous World hath understood , Fates only Seal'd , the first creation good ; This moderne worke ( sterne Fates ! ) rose up to prove Your ancient skill retayn'd , but not your love : Could you have lov'd , you had with carefull fight Preserv'd , what you did frame with such delight . O , let me summe his crimes , let me relate Them strictly as his Judge , not Advocate ; And yet the greatest number you shall finde Were errors of his youth , not of his minde : For had his jealous courage bin so wise , As to beleeve it selfe , not others Eyes ; Had he not thought his little patience tame In suff'ring quiet Men , t' enjoy a Fame ; He might have liv'd ●o so great use , that I Had writ his Acts , and not his Elegie . Goe , gentlest of your Sex ! should I relate With bolder truth , th' unkindnesse of his Fate , ( Too strict , to flesh and blood ) I might infuse A Schisme in your Religion , and my Muse : Yet this would be excus'd , since all wee gaine By griefe , is but the licence to complaine .
TO THE QVEENE , upon a New-yeares day . YOu of the Guard make way ! and you that keepe The Presence warme , and quiet whilst you sleep , Permit me passe ! and then ( if any where Imploy'd ) you Angels that are busi'st here , And are the strongest Guard , although unseene , Conduct me neere the Chamber of the Queene ! Where with such reverence as Hermits use At richest Shrines , I may present my Muse : Awake ! salute , and satisfie thy sight , Not with the fainting Sun's , but thine owne Light ! Let this Day breake from thine owne Silken spheare , This Day , the birth , and Infant of the yeare ! Nor is there need of Purple , or of Lawne To vest thee in , were but thy Curtaines drawne , Men might securely say , that it is morne , Thy Garments serve to hide , not to adorne ! Now she appeares , whilst ev'ry looke , and smile , Dispences warmth , and beauty through our Isle : Whilst from their wealthiest Caskets , Princes pay Her gifts , as the glad tribute of this Day ! This Day ; which Time shall owe to her , not Fate ; Because her early Eies , did it create . But O! poore Poets ! Where are you ? why bring You not your Goddesse now an Offering ? Who makes your Numbers Swift , when they mov'd slow , And when they ebb'd , her influence made them flow . Alas ! I know your wealth : The Laurell bough , Wreath'd into Circles , to adorne the Brow , Is all you have : But goe ; these strew , and spread , In sacrifice , where ever shee shall tread , And ere this day grow old , know you shall see Each Leafe become a Sprig , each Sprig a Tree .
Elegie , On Francis , Earle of RUTLAND . CAll not the Winds ! nor bid the Rivers stay ! For though the sighs , the teares they could repay , Which injur'd Lovers , Mourners for the Dead , Captives , and Saints , have breath'd away , and shed ; Yet wee should want to make our sorrow fit For such a cause , as now doth silence it . Rutland ! the noble , and the just ! whose name Already is , all History , all Fame ! Whom like brave Ancestors in Battaile lost , Wee mention not in pitty , but in boast ! How did'st tho● smile , to see the solemne sport , Which vexes busie greatnesse in the Court ? T' observe their lawes of faction , place , and Time , Their precepts how , and where , and when to climbe ? Their rules , to know if the sage meaning lies , In the deepe Breast , i' th shallow Brow , or Eyes ? Though Titles , and thy blood , made thee appeare , ( Oft'gainst thy ease ) where these state-Rabbins were ▪ Yet their philosophie thou knew'st was fit , For thee to pitty , more than study it . Safely thou valu'dst Cunning , as 't had bin , Wisdome , long since , distemper'd into Sin : And knew'st , the actions of th' Ambitious are But as the fal'se Al'armes in running warre , Like forlorne Scowts ( that raise the coyle ) they keepe Themselves awake , to hinder others sleepe : And all they gaine , by vex'd expence of breath ; Unquietnesse , and guilt ; is at their death , Wonder , and mighty noyse ; whilst things that be Most deare , and pretious to Mortalitie ( Time , and thy Selfe ) impatient here of stay , With a grave silence , seeme to steale away ; Depart from us unheard , and wee still mourne In vaine ( though piously ) for their returne . Thy Bounties if I name ; I 'le not admit , Kings , when they love , or wooe , to equall ●● : It shew'd like Nature's selfe , when she doth bring All she can promise by an early Spring ; Or when she payes that promise , where she best Makes Summers for Mankind ; in the rich East . And as the wise Sunne , silently imployes His lib'rall Beames , and ripens without Noyse ; As precious Dewes , doe undiscover'd fall , And growth , insensibly doth steale on all ; So what he gave , conceal'd , in private came , ( As in the dark ) from one that had no name ; Like Fayries wealth , not given to restore , Or if reveal'd , it visited no more . If these live , and be read ( as who shall dare Suspect , Truth , and thy Fame , immortall are ? ) What need thy noble Brother , or faire She , That is thy selfe , in purest imagrie ; Whose breath , and Eyes , the ●un'rall-spice , and flame , Continue still , of gentle Buckingham ; What need they send poore Pioners to grone , In lower Quarries for Corinthian stone ? To dig in Parian Hills ? since Statues must , And Monuments , turne like our selves to dust : Verse , to all ages can our deeds declare , Tombs , but a while , shew where our Bodies are .
To Endimion Porter . WOuld thou wert dead ! so strictly dead to me , That nor my sight , nor my vex'd memorie Could reach thee more : so dead , that but to name Thou wert , might give the sawcie ▪ lie to Fame ; That the bold Sonnes of Honour , and the milde Race of Lovers ( both thy disciples stil'd ) Might aske ; who could the first example bee To all their good ? yet none should mention thee ▪ Knocking at my Brest , when this hou'r is come ; I hope , I once shall finde my heart at home . Say , thou art dead ; yet whisper 't but to me ; For should thy so well-spent mortalitie , End to the world , and that sad end be knowne ; I might ( perhaps ) still live , but live alone : The better world would follow thee , and all That I should gaine , by that large Funerall , Would be , the wanton vanit●e to boast , What they enjoy , was from my plenty lost .
To the Countesse of Carlile , on the death of the Earle her Husband . THis Cypresse folded here , in steed of Lawne , These Tapers winking , and these Curtaines drawne ; What may they meane ? unlesse to qualifie And check the lusture of your Eyes , you 'll trie To honour darknesse , and adorne the Night , So strive , thus with your Lord , to bury Light . Call back , your absent Beauties to your care , Though clouded , and conceal'd , wee know you are The Morning's early'st Beame , life of the Day , The Ev'ns last comfort , and her parting Ray ! But why these Teares , that give him no reliefe , For whom you waste the virtue of your griefe ? Such , as might be prescrib'd the Earth , to drinke For cure of her old Curse ; Teares , you would thinke Too rich to water ( if you knew their price ) The chiefest Plant deriv'd from Paradise . But O! where is a Poets faith ? how farre We are miss-led ? how false we Lords of Numbers are ? Our Love , is passion , our Religion , rage ! Since , to secure that mighty heritage Entail'd upon the Bay , see , how I strive To keepe the glory of your looks alive ; And to perswade your gloomy Sorrows thence ; As subt'ly knowing , your kind influence Is all the pretious Stock , left us t' inspire , And feed the flame , of our eternall fire . But I recant : 'T is fit you mourne a while , And winke , untill you darken all this Isle ; More fit , the Bay should wither too , and be Quite lost , than he depriv'd your obsequie : He that was once your Lord ; who strove to get That title , cause nought else , could make him great ; A stile , by which his name he did preferre To have a day , i' th Poets Kalender . His youth was gentle , and dispos'd to win , Had so much courtship in 't , 't was his chiefe sin ; Yet sure , although his courtship knew the way To conquer Beauty ; it did ne're betray . When wise with yeares , these soft affaires did cease : He whisper'd War abroad , then brought home Peace . He was supreme Ambassador , and went To be that Prince , whom Leigers but present ; And soone with easie ceremonies got , What they did lose with care , and a deepe plot : Cheerefull his age ; not tedious or severe , Like those , who being dull , would grave appeare ; Whose guilt , made them the soule of Mirth despise , And being sullen , hope men thinke them wise : Yet he that kept his Virtues from decay , Had that about him needs must weare away : The daily less'ning of our life , shews by A little dying , how out-right to die : Observe the Morning , Noone , and Evening Sunne : Then ( Madam ) you that saw his Hou'r-gla●●e runne , In wiser faith , will not be more opprest To see the last sand fall , than all the rest .
Epilogue , TO LOVE and HONOR , A Tragicomedy . TRoth Gentlemen , you must vouchsafe awhile T' excuse my Mirth ; I cannot chuse but smile ▪ And'tis to thinke , how like a subtle Spie , Our Poet waits , to heare his destinie : Just i' th pay'd-Entry as you passe ; the place Where first you mention your dislike , or gra●e . Pray whisper softly , that he may not heare ; Or else , such words , as shall not blast his Eare.
Epilogue , To a Vacation Play at the Globe .
The speaker enter'd with a Sword drawne . FOr your owne sakes ( Poore Soules ! ) you had not best Beleeve , my fury was so much supprest I'th'heat of the last Scene , as now you may Boldly , and safely too , cry downe our Play ! For if you dare , but Murmure one false Note , Here in the House , or going to take Bot● ; By Heav'n , I 'le mowe you off , with my long Sword ; Ye●'man , and Squire , Knight , Lady , and her Lord ! With reason too ; for since my whole part lies I' th' Play , to Kill the King 's chiefe Enemies ; How can you scape ? ( be your owne Judges ) when You lay sad plots , to begger the Kings-Men .
TO THE QVEENE , upon a New-yeares day . THis day , old Time , doth turne his Annuall Glasse ; And shakes it , that the Yeare may swiftly passe : This day ; on which the formost leading-sand Falls from that Glasse , shooke by his hasty Hand : That Sand's th' exemplar Seed , by which wee know How th' Hou'rs of the ensuing Yeare will grow . Awake , great Queene ! for as you hide , or cleere Your Eyes , wee shall distrust , or like the Yeare . Queenes set their Dialls by your beauties light ; By your Eyes learne , to make their owne move right : Yet know , our expectation when you rise Is not intirely furnish'd from your Eyes ; But wisely wee provide , how to rejoyce , In the fruition of your Breath , and Voyce : Your breath , which Nature the example meant , From whence our early Blossomes take their scent ; Teaching our Infant-Flow'rs how to excell ( Ere strong upon their stalks ) in fragrant smell : Your voyce , which can allure , and charme the best Most gawdy-feather'd Chaunter of the East , To dwell about your Palace all the Spring , And still preserve him silent whilst you sing . Rise then ! for I have heard Apollo sweare , By that first lustre , which did fill his Spheare ; He will not mount , but make eternall Night , Unlesse releev'd , and cherish'd by your Sight ▪ Your sight ; which is his warmth , now he is old , His Horses weary , and his Chariot cold .
TO EDWARD Earle of Dorcet , after his Sicknesse , and happy recovery . MY LORD , I Find the Gentry so o're-joy'd i' th Towne , As if all Prisons ( safely ) were rac'd downe : As if , the Judges would no more resist Wrongs with the Law , but each turne Duelist ; And not with Statutes , but with Rapiers fence , At Mason's ward to succour Innocence . As if some trusty Poet now had bin Chosen with full voyce City-Chamberlin ; Their Treasure kept , and might dispose of it And th' Orphans Goods , as his free Muse thought fit . As if grave Benchers had been seene to weare Loud German Spurres , tall Feathers , and long Haire . Such wilde inversions , both of Men , and Lawes , Amaz'd my Faith , untill I knew , the cause Was your returne to health ; which did destroy All griefe in greater Minds , and swell their joy : Which made me gladly vow to dedicate Each Yeare , a solemne sacrifice to Fate ; Such as should please old Esculapius too , More than dissected Cocks were wont to doe , ( If there be prophecie in Wine ) and then You shall be knowne to Altars , as to Men.
Written , When Collonell Goring Was beleev'd to be slaine , at the siege of BREDA . His death lamented by ENDIMION , ARIGO.
The Scene , the Sea . ENDIMION . HO ! Pilot● change your Course ! for know we are Not guided by the Sea-mans usuall Star●● : Storme-frighted-Foole ! dull , wat'ry Officer ! Dost thou our Voyage by thy Compasse steere ? In all the Circle of thy Card , no Winde Tame , or un●uly , thou wilt ever finde Can bring us where the meanest on the Coast Immortall is , and ● renowned Ghost ARIGO. Let the assembled Winds in their next warre , Blow out the light , of thy old guiding Starre ; Whilst on uncertaine Waves , thy Bark is tost , Untill thy Card is rent , thy Rudder lost . Nor Star , nor Card ; though with choyce Winds you fill Your Sayles ( subdu'd by Navigators skill ; ) Can teach thee rule thy Helme , 'till 't waft us o're Pacifique Seas , to the Elizian Shore . ENDIMION . Who to that flow'ry Land , shall search his way , No mortall Pilots Compasse must obay ; Nor trust Columbu● art , although he can Boast longer toyles , than he , or Magilan : Thoug in Sea-perils , he could talke them dumbe , And prove them lazy Criples ; bred at home , By 's travailes , he could make the Sunne appeare , A young , and unexperienc'd Travailer . ARIGO. If thou wilt Steere our course , thou must rely On some majestick , Epick-History ; ( The Poet's Compasse ) such as the blind Priest In fury writ , when like an Exorcist , His Numbers charm'd the Grecian Host ; whose Pen , The Scepter was , which rul'd the Soules of Men. Survey his mystick Card ; learne to what Coast , He did transport , each brave unbody'd Ghost , New shifted from his flesh , that valiant Crew , Which fierce Achilles , and bold Hector slew ? ENDIMION . Enquire , where these are now ? beneath what Shade , In deare-bought rest , their weary Limmes are laid , That trod on rugged wayes ? for Honor still Leaves the smooth Plaine , t' ascend the rough , steepe Hill . There seeke , the Macedonian Youth ; who knew No worke , so full of ease , as to subdue : Who scarce beleev'd his Conquests worthy fame , Since others thought , his fortune overcame . ARIGO. Neere him , the Epire-Quarreller doth lie ; Lookes , as he scorn'd his immortalitie , Because of too much rest ; seemes still at strife With Fate , for losse of troubles , not of life : Griev'd that to dye , hee made such certaine hast , Since being dead , the noble Danger 's past . ENDIMION . Neere these , goe seeke ( with Mirtle over-growne ) The Carthaginian Victor's shady Throne ; Who there , with sullen thoughts , much troubled lies ; And chides , the over-carefull Destinies ; That these Ambitious Neighbours thither sent So long before his birth ; thus to prevent Dishonour at their deaths ; O fond surmise , Of one , who when but mortall was so Wise ! As if betimes , they hastned to a Tombe , Lest he b'ing borne , they had been overcome . ARIGO. Neere him , the wondrous Roman doth appeare , Majestick , as if made Dictator there ; Where now , the philosophick Lord , would heale The wound , he gave him for the Publique Weale : Which he more strives to hide ; as sham'd his Eye Should finde , that any wound could make him die . ENDIMION . If thou , by the wise Poets Card , or Starre , Canst bring us where these alter'd Monarchs are ; Shift all thy Sayles , to husband ev'ry Winde ; 'Till by a short , swift passage we may finde , Where Sidney's ever-blooming-Throne is spred ; For now , since one renown'd as he is dead ; ( Goring , the still lamented , and belov'd ! ) He hath enlarg'd his Bow'r , and farre remov'd His lesse heroique Neighbours , that gave place To him ; the last of that soone number'd Race . ARIGO. Whom he must needs delight to celebrate , Because himselfe , in manners , and in Fate , Was his undoubted Type : Goring , whose name Though early up , will stay the last with Fame : ENDIMION . Though Sidney was his Type , fulfill'd above What he foretaught , of Valour , Bounty , Love : Who dy'd like him , even there , where he mistooke The People , and the Cause he undertooke : Betray'd by Pitty then , to their defence , Whose povertie was all their innocence : And sure , if to their helpe a Third could come , Beguild by Honour , to such Martyrdome ; Susficient like these Two , in braine , as blood ; The World in time would thinke , their cause is good . ARIGO. Thus he forsooke his glories being young : The Warriour is unlucky , who lives long ; And brings his courage in suspect ; for he That aymes at honour , i' th supreme degree , Permits his Valour ' to be over-bold , Which then , ne're keepes him safe , 'till he be old . ENDIMION . His Bounty , like his Valour , unconfin'd ; As if not borne to Treasure , but assign'd The Rents of lucky Warre ; each Day to be Allow'd , the profits of a Victorie ! Not of poore Farmes , but of the World the Lord ! Heire , to intestate Nations by his Sword . ARIGO. In Valour thus , and bounty , rays'd above The vulgar height , so in designes of Love ; For onely gentle Love could him subdue ; A noble crime , which snew'd his Valour , true : It is the Souldier's test ; for just so far He yeelds to Love , he overcomes in War . ENDIMION . But why Arigo , doe wee strive to rayse The Story of our l●sse , with helplesse praise ? Why to this Pilot mourne ; whose Eares can reach Nothing les●● loud , than Winds , or Waters breach ? Or thinke , that he can guide us to a Coast , Where wee may finde , what all the World hath lost ? ARIGO. About then ! Lee the Helme ! Endimion ●see , Loose Wreaths ( not of the Bay , but Cypresse Tree ) Our Poet weares , and on the Shore doth mourne , Fearing , t' Elizium bound , wee can't returne . Steere back ! his Verse may make those Sorrowes last Which here , wee 'mongst unhallow'd Sea-men waste .
TO THE LORD Cary of Lepington , upon his translation of MALVEZZI . SO swift is Thought ; this Morne I tooke my flight To ruin'd Babell , and return'd to Night : So strong , that Time ( whose course no pow'r could slack ) I have enforc'd some Forty ages back : To me , that great disorder , and decay , Was both begun , and consummate to Day : My selfe , some strong Chaldean Mason there , Still sore , with massie Stones they made me beare : Just now ( me thinkes ) I 'm struck , for some command Mistooke , in words I could not understand . So lasting are great Griefes , wee still retaine Remembrance of them , though wee lose the paine : And that Confusion did a griefe comprise , Greatest , in that in most concern'd the Wise : For these ( who best deserve the care of Fate ) The first great Curse , much lesse did penetrate , Which makes us labour for our Food so long , Than that which mix'd , or cancell'd ev'ry Tongue : 'Cause now wee toyle , and swet for knowledge more , Than for the Body's nourishment before . Knowledge ; ere it did practise to controle , No Weapon was , but Diet of the Soule ; Which as her nourishment , she might enjoy , Not like Controverts , others to destroy : And this her Food ( like Milke ) did nourish best , 'Cause it was safe , and easie to digest : Which Milke , that Curse on Languages turn'd sowre , For Men scarce taste , what they could erst devoure : Since now , we are preparing to be dead , Ere●we can holfe interpret what wee read . Yet he , that for our Bodyes tooke such care , That to each Wound , there sev'rall Me●'cins are ; In nobler pitty , surely hath assign'd A cure , for ev'ry mischiefe of the Minde : So this revenge ( perhaps ) was but to trie Our patience first , and then our industrie . Since hee ordain'd , that beautious Truth should still Be overcast , and hid from humane skill ; Sure he affects that Warre , which Schoole-men wage ; When to know Truth , doth make their knowledge , rage : So Truth , is much more precious than our peace ; Though some fond Politicks , esteeme her lesse : Lazy obedience , is to them devout ; And those rebellious , that dispute , or doubt , But you ( my Lord ) must Valiantly despise Their threats , that would keep Knowledge in disguise ; And toyle with Languages to make her cleere ; Which is , to be a just Interpreter . And this selected Peece , which you translate , Foretells , your Studies may communicate , From darker Dialects of a strange Land , Wisdome , that here th' unlearn'd shall understand . What noble wonders may in time appeare , When all , that 's forreigne , growes domestick here ? When all the scatt●●'d World you reconcile , Unto the Speech , and Idiom of this Isle : How like a gen'rall Scepter rules that Pen , Which Mankind makes , one kind of Country-men ?
To Henry Jarmin . HOw wicked am I now ? no Man can grow More wicked , till he swears , I am not so : Since Wealth , which doth authorize Men to erre , Since Hope , ( that is the lawfull'st Flatterer ) Were never mine one houre : yet I am loth To have lesse pride , than Men possess'd of both : Fuller of glory , than old Victors be , That thanke themselves , not Heav'n for Victorie : Prouder than Kings first Mistresses , who thinke Their Eies , gazing on Stars , would make Stars winke ▪ That hope , they rule not by imperiall place , But by some beautious Charter in the Face . Yet this my pride , and glory , I thinke lost Unlesse declar'd , and heightned with a boast , Am I not bravely wicked then ? and still Shail worse appeare , in Nature , as in will ; When with my Malice ( the grave Wit of Sinne ) T' excuse my selfe , I draw the whole World in ; Prove all in pride , in triviall glory share , Though not so harmelesse in 't , as Poets are . When Battailes joyne , alas ! what is 't doth move ( 'Gainst all Celestiall harmony of Love ) The Gallant Warriour to assault his Foe ? Whose Vices , and whose Face , he ne're did know : Why would he kill ? or why , for Princes fight ? They quarrell more for glory , than for right : The pride then he defends , he 'ld punish too , As if more Just in him , than in the Foe . Th' Ambitious States-man not himselfe admires For what he hath , but what his pride desires ; Doth inwardly confesse , he covets sway , Because he is too haughty to obay : Who yeeld to him , doe not their reason pl●●se , But hope , their patience may procure them ease . How proudly glorious doth he then appeare , Whom ev'n the Proud ▪ enmy , the humble , feare ▪ The Studious ( that in Books so long have sought What our Wise Fathers did , or what they thought ) Admit not Reason to be naturall , But forc'd , harsh , and uneasie unto all : Well may it be so , when from our Soul's Eyes , With dark Schoole-Clouds , they keepe it in disguise : They seeme to know , what they are loth t' impart ; Reason ( our Nature once ) is now their Art : And by sophistick , uselesse-science , trie T' ingage us still , to their false industrie ; T' untie that knot , which they themselves have ry'd , And had been loose to all , but for their pride : Their pride ; who rule as chiefe on Earth , because They only can expound , their owne hard Lawes . Since thus , all that direct what others doe , Are proud ; why should not Poets be so too ? Although not good , t is prosperous at least To imitate the greatest , not the best . Know then , I must be proud ! but when I tell The cause that makes my nourish'd glory swell , I shall ( like lucky Pensils ) have the fate T' exceed the Patterns , which I imitate ▪ This not implies , to be more proud than they , But bravely to be proud , a better way : And thus ( Arigo ) I may safely climbe , Rays'd with the boast , not loaden with the crime : Those , with their glorious Vices taken be , But I ( most right'ously ) am proud of thee .
To Tho: Carew . ( 1 ) VPon my conscience whenso e'rethou dy'st ( Lent ) ( Though in the black , the mourning time of There will be seene , in Kings-street ( where thou ly'st ) More triumphs , than in dayes of Parl'ament . ( 2 ) How glad , and gaudy then will Lovers be ? For ev'ry Lover that can Verses read , Hath beene so injur'd by thy Muse , and thee , Ten Thousand , Thousand times , he wish'd thee dead . ( 3 ) Not but thy Verses are as smooth , and high , As Glory , Love , or Wine , from Wit can rayse ; But now the Devill take such destinie ! What should commend them , turnes to their disprayse . ( 4 ) Thy Wit 's chiefe Virtue , is become its Vice ; For ev'ry Beauty thou hast rays'd so high , That now course-Faces carry such a price , As must undoe a Lover , if he buy . ( 5 ) Scarce any of the Sex , admits commerce ; It shames mee much to urge this in a Friend ; But more , that they should so mistake thy Verse , Which meant to conquer , whom it did commend .
TO Doctor Duppa , Deane of Christ-Church , and Tutor to the Prince .
An acknowledgment for his collection , in Honour of Ben. Iohnson's memory . HOw shall I sleepe to night , that am to pay By a bold vow , a mighty Debt ere Day ▪ Which all the Poets of this Island owe : Like Palnea , neglected , it will greater grow . How vainly from my single Stock of Wit , ( As small , as is my Art , to Husband it ) ▪ I have adventur'd what they durst not doe With strong confed'rate Art , and Nature too . This Debt hereditary is , and more Than can be pay'd for such an Ancestor ; Who living , all the Muses Treasure spent , As if they him , their Heire , not Steward meant . Forrests of Mirtle , he disforrested , That neere to Helicon their shades did spred ; Like Moderne Lords , w' are so of Rent bereft ; Poets , and they , have nought but Titles left : He wasted all in Wreaths , for 's conqu'ring Wit ; Which was so strong , as nought could conquer it But 's Judgment 's force , and that more rul'd the sense Of what he writ , than 's F●●●y's vaste expence . Of that hee still was lavishly profuse ; For joyne the remnant-Wealth of ev'ry Muse , And t' will not pay the Debt wee owe to thee , For honours done unto his Memory ▪ Thus then , he brought th' Estate into decay , With which , this Debt , wee as his Heires should pay . As sullen Heires , when wastefull Fathers die , Their old Debts leave for their Posteritie To cleere ; and the remaining Akers strive T' enjoy , to keepe them pleasant whilst alive ; So I ( alas ! ) were to my selfe unkinde , If from that little Wit , he left behinde , I simply should so great a debt defray ; I 'le keepe it to maintaine mee , not to pay . Yet , for my soul's last quiet when I die , I will commend it to posteritie : Although 't is fear'd ( 'cause they are left so poore ) They 'll but acknowledge , what they should restore : However , since I now may erne my Bayes , Without the taint of flatterie in prayse ; Since I 've the luck , to make my prayses true . I 'le let them know , to whom this Debt is due : Due unto you , whose learning can direct Why Faith must trust , what Reason would suspect : Teach Faith to rul1e , but with such temp'rate law , As Reason not destroys , yet keeps't in awe : Wise you ; the living-Volume , which containes All that industrious Art , from Nature gaines ; The usefull , open-Booke , to all unty'd ; That knowes more , than halfe-Knowers seeme to hide And with an easie cheerefulnesse reveale , What they , through want , not sullennesse conceale . That , to great-faithlesse-Wits , can truth dispence 'Till 't turne , their witty scorne , to reverence : Make them confesse , their greatest error springs , From curious gazing on the least of Things ; With reading smaller prints , they spoyle their Sight , Darken themselves , then rave , for want of light : Shew them , how full they are of subtle sinne , When Faith 's great Cable , they would nicely spinne To Reason's slender Threads ; then ( falsely bold ) When they have weakned it , cry , t'wilt not hold ! To him , that so victorious still doth grow , In knowledge , and t' enforce others to know ; Humble in 's strength ; not cunning , to beguile , Nor strong , to overcome , but reconcile : To Arts Milde Conqueror ; that is , to you , Our sadly mention'd Debt , is justly due : And now Posteritie is taught to know , Why , and to whom , this mighty Summe they owe , I safely may goe sleep ; for they will pay It all at times , although I breake my Day .
FINIS .