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Quodlibets, lately come over from New Britaniola, Old Newfoundland. Epigrams and other small parcels both Morall and Divine

The first foure Bookes being the Authors owne: the rest translated out of that Excellent Epigrammist, Mr Iohn Owen, and other rare Authors: With two Epistles of that excellently wittie Doctor, Francis Rablais: Translated out his French at large. All of them Composed and done at Harbor-Grace in Britaniola, anciently called Newfound-Land. By R. H. [by Robert Hayman]
Hayman, Robert
  
[dedication]

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[section]
  
My humble Muse, desires likewise to kisse your sacred hands.
  
To my deare Friend and Fellow-Planter, Master Robert Hayman, who with Pen and Person prepares more roome for Christians in the Newfound-World.
  
To the Facetious Epigrammatist, my louing Kinsman, Mr. Robert Hayman, who composed these quaint Quodlibets at Harbor-grace, in Newfound-Land.
  
To the Louers of the Muses, vpon these Quodlibets.
  
An Acrostick-Sonnet. To his learned and welbeloued friend, Mr.
  
Harm I bare not.
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THE FIRST BOOKE OF QVODLIBETS, DONE AND COMPOSED BY THE AVTHOR himselfe.
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[THE SECOND BOOKE.]
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THE THIRD BOOKE OF QVODLIBETS.
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THE FOVRTH BOOKE OF QVODLIBETS. An vnfinisht Booke.
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CERTAINE EPIGRAMS OVT OF THE FIRST FOVRE BOOKES OF THE Excellent Epigrammatist, Master Iohn Ovven:
  
TO THE FAR ADMIRED, ADMIRABLLY FAIRE, vertuous, and witty Beauties of England.
  
A PRÆMONITION TO ALL KINDE OF READERS of these Translations of Iohn Owens Epigrams.
  
AN ENCOMIASTICK DISTICK ON MY RIGHT WORTHY AVTHOR, Iohn Ovven.
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PART OF MASTER IOHN OWENS EPIGRAMS TRANSLATED into English.
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The First Booke.
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The Second Booke.
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The Third Booke.
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The Fovrth Booke, Which He Cals His Sole Booke.
 3. 
Epig. 3. To his Booke.
 4. 
4 To the Inhabitants of Great Brittaine.
 10. 
10 The three Dimensions to a prating Iack.
 16. 
16 To a great Courtier.
 17. 
17 Baldnesse through Uice.
 18. 
18 To Pontilian.
 20. 
20 Enuies Genealogie.
 23. 
23 A rich Promiser, but a poore Performer.
 26. 
26 Euery man flatters himselfe.
 29. 
29 Thy shaddow in thy Looking-glasse.
 31. 
31 To a sleeping talker.
 33. 
33 Mans misery.
 35. 
35 To an vnmarried friend.
 36. 
36 Woe to the alone.
 38. 
38 An Atheists Inheritance.
 40. 
40 To the Readers.
 41. 
41 The New Roman Computation.
 50. 
50 To an enuious Momus, who found fault with his three first Bookes.
 53. 
53 The poore Cuckolds Complaint.
 69. 
69 Cardinall Wolseys Ego & Rex meus: I and my King.
 75. 
75 Deaths Trouer.
 80. 
80 A bad Debtor.
 82. 
82 The deriuatiue Church.
 84. 
84 The good of want.
 87. 
87 Democrates many Worlds.
 88. 
88 Of Epigrams.
 91. 
91 A couetous mans bounty: or a sure marke-man.
 93. 
93 Penelope's Patience.
 94. 
94 To Anetta .
 95. 
95 To an one-eyed Souldier.
 96. 
96 Why there is no peace in Europe.
 97. 
97 An Antidote, lest women should be proud.
 100. 
100 Natures Horizon.
 105. 
105 An ambo dexter.
 113. 
113 A Kings behauiour.
 114. 
114 The head is worth all the body besides.
 115. 
115 Kings feare Death.
 118. 
118 A Losing Gaine.
 119. 
119 Head Tyres.
 121. 
121 The East and Westerne Churches.
 127. 
127 To his Reader.
 128. 
128 How to rule a wife.
 131. 
131 To Anabaptists and such kind of mealy Brethren.
 132. 
132 Alchymists folly.
 136. 
136 The Crosse in Cheapside ouer against Saint Peters, and Pauls Crosse in the Booke-row.
 140. 
140 Seneca the Philosopher.
 141. 
141 To the honourable, wise, iudicious Knight, Sir Henry Neuil, Sonne and Heire to the Lord of Aberguenny.
 144. 
144 Contention is fit to dwell no where.
 147. 
147 The poore mans poore comfort.
 149. 
149 The Heart.
 156. 
156 The Worlds blacke Saunts: or Musicke for the Deuill.
 159. 
159 The world growes worse and worse.
 160. 
160 Londons Loadstone.
 162. 
162 Fooles and Dwarfes.
 163. 
163 Euery man is full of care.
 171. 
171 The blessed Uirgin Mary, the Mother of Christ Iesus.
 173. 
173 New fashions in words.
 180. 
180 To an Old Churle.
 182. 
182 A fearefull Soules flesh-farewell.
 183. 
183 A woman may be too proud.
 184. 
184 A muck-Worme.
 188. 
188 Cor vnum, via vna.
 189. 
189 A King and a Prophet.
 190. 
190 Vertues Attendance.
 192. 
192 To a foolish inquisitiue vaine prattler.
 193. 
193 Sleepe is the image of Death.
 194. 
194 How worldly men range their cares.
 206. 
206 A Lawyers life.
 207. 
207 Preachers and Players.
 215. 
215 Schoole-boyes study.
 216. 
216 Euery thing is as it takes.
 217. 
217 How to handle griefe.
 223. 
223 The Poet, of his Mæcenas.
 225. 
225 Blind Homer.
 227. 
227 To goe about, worse then the Goute.
 235. 
235 Pride is womans Colloquintida.
 245. 
245 Of King Brute .
 246. 
246 To a couetous Carle.
 247. 
247 Death and life are neere Neighbours.
 248. 
248 Moores Eutopia, and Mercurius Brittanicus.
 259. 
259 HOPE FAITH CHARITY
 249. 
249 Of himselfe.
 254. 
254 The nullity of our Lawes.
 257. 
257 Besides women and children.
 258. 
258 Of those that make the Scripture a Nose of Waxe.
 262. 
262 The Harpe and Harrow of the Court. An enuious and a flattering knaue.
 263. 
263 The foure efficient causes of man.
 64. 
64 Deaths sweet and sowre.
 266. 
266 Death and life.
 267. 
267 An old decrepit man, A Builder.
 269. 
269 An Envious mans Charity.
 273. 
273 Great Brittaine vnited euerlastingly.
  
An excellent Anagram on this excellent Poets name, with the verses annexed, translated.
  
D. Du. Med. his Latine Distick to the Readers, translated.
  
One of mine owne, to the same purpose.
  
Praise-worthy verses of Learned Mistris Iane Owens of Oxford, in praise of my Iohn Owen, translated out of her Latine.
  
To the same learned Woman, whose vertues I reuerence; I dedicate this Encomiastick.
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SEVERALL SENTENTIOVS EPIGRAMS, AND WITTY SAYINGS OVT of sundry Authors both Ancient and Moderne:
  
A rayling Epistle, written in French by that excellently witty Doctor, Francis Rabalais:
  
120 Another Epistle of the same witty Author, Francis Rabelais, in praise of a graue Matrone; translated as the former.

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22. To my right worthy friend, Mr. Michael Drayton, whose vnwearied old Muse still produceth new dainties.

When I was young, I did delight your lines,
I haue admyr'd them since my iudging times:
Your younger muse plai'd many a dainty fit,
And your old muse doth hold out stoutly yet.
Though my old muse durst passe through frost and snow,
In warres your

He wrot battell of the Agincourt, when he was aboue 60. yeers old.

old muse dares her Colours shew.
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