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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 his friend and Companion Mr H.N.

Wit's all the younger sons inheritance,
A small estate, which cannot much advance:
Virgil may talk of Bees, and dunging land,
But 'tis the Heir that has them in his hand:
To him th'indulgent father all doth give,
While they alas have nought wherewith to live
But what Dame Nature, like a careful mother,
Laid up, and said 'twas for a younger brother.
A store of Wit, heav'n knowes 'tis all she gave,
And yet you're rich enough, while this you have.
A Fico for thy brothers lands! thou'ast more
In Mount Pernassus, than is all his store:
There with Apollo thou maist sit and dine
With heav'nly Nectar, sup with th'Muses nine;
The lustie Gods and Goddesses wil be
With all the Graces there in companie:
There we have fields to walk in; oh what fine
Mirth there is in good company and wine!
Lastly to make you fully happy, Bettie;
Will meet i'th' arbour; oh shee's wondrous prettie!
Now tel me friend, is not this better sport,
Than to have money, and no pleasure for't?
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