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Clarastella

Together with Poems occasional, Elegies, Epigrams, Satyrs. By Robert Heath
Heath, Robert (fl. 1636-1659)

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Occasional POEMS
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ELEGIES.
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EPIGRAMS.
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The first Book.
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Epigrams. Lib. 2.
  
To the gentle Reader.
  
To the Lady Phanton.
  
On Lying.
  
Epitaph on John Newter.
  
A Question about Law.
  
To my Book-seller.
  
On Mr Fanning the Engastrometh.
  
On the Invention of Printing and Guns.
  
To Megæra.
  
On Plot.
  
To VV.B. a smal Poet.
  
The Stonie Age.
  
To Captain Nym.
  
To Mutus.
  
To Jealous.
  
On Taurus.
  
On Swill.
  
On Resolute Bat.
  
To Veta an old Shrew.
  
To Big.
  
To Mæchus.
  
On Captain Sharke.
  
To Boldface.
  
To Phydias a Painter.
  
On Chœril.
  
On Stupro.
  
On Swillmore.
  
On Brave.
  
On Pure.
  
On Dull.
  
On Sir Sullen Haughtie.
  
To his worthy friend T.S. Esquire.
  
To Pantagus.
  
To Lautus.
  
On Prophane.
  
On Bib.
  
The effects of Brainsick's letters.
  
On Mr Ap-Taffie Shentilman of Wales.
  
To an Irish-man.
  
To Spruce.
  
To Formall.
  
On Swift.
  
The Wisdome of this age.
  
On Priscus.
  
On Proud.
  
On Doctor Emperick.
  
On Bib.
  
On Nokes.
  
To his friend and Companion Mr H.N.
  
To Levinus.
  
On Vulpe.
  
Blessed Ignorance.
  
To a poore Begger.
  
On Thais her Bastard.
  
On Gamster.
  
Epitaph on the Preaching Cobler How.
  
On Sir John Lackland.
  
On Cosmo.
  
On Lowsi-Patch.
  
On Light.
  
On a fire in a Town.
  
Epitaph on Hocas Pocas.
  
To one that talked finely.
  
To Cosmo on his fair scolding wife.
  
On Silly.
  
To Momus.
  
On Bib.
  
To Moore.
  
To Madam Cr. wearing a lookinglass at her Girdle.
  
On Squire Huffe.
  
On Philip Soupe and Jone his wife.
  
On Poet Cordus a Rimer.
  
On Fusk.
  
To an old deformed Woman.
  
To Cit.
  
To Plagiarie.
  
To Lysippus a Barber.
  
To a corrupt Judge.
  
Lydia encountered.
  
On Gaming.
  
On Brag.
  
To Cosmo.
  
On Mounsieur Congee.
  
On Gripe.
  
To Harsh.
  
To Cupid.
  
On proud Mrs. Minx.
  
On three Knights without spurs.
  
On Copernicus his opinion who thought the earth went round.
  
On Doctour Love-Self.
  
To my smal friend with a great beard.
  
To Ignorant Zoile.
  
To the Reader.
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SATYRS.

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To my Book-seller.

I'ave common made my book; 'tis very true;
But I'd not have thee prostitute it, too;
Nor show it barefac'd on the open stall
To tempt the buyer: nor poast it on each wall
And corner poast close underneath the Play
That must be acted at Black-Friers that day:
37

Nor fee some Herring-cryer for a groat
To voice it up and down, with tearing throat.
Nor bid thy 'prentice read it and admire,
That all i'th' shop may what he reads enquire.
No: profer'd wares do smel: I'd have thee know
Pride scorns to beg: Modestie fears to wooe.
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