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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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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.
  
Iustice Epigram.
 2. 
2. To my delicate Readers.
 1. 
1. To my zealous, and honest friend, Master W. B. of Bristoll.
 4. 
4. Gods Loue: The Deuils Malice.
 5. 
5. God rewards thankefull men.
 6. 
6. To a dissembling, sober, slye Protestor.
 7. 
7. Dissemblers coozen themselues.
 8. 
8. On a wide-mouthed prating companion.
 9. 
9. Latin Prayers by number.
 10. 
10. To the Bishop of Rome.
 11. 
11. A wife more deare then sweet. To a complementing kinde Husband.
 12. 
12. Plaisters for a Gald-heart.
 13. 
13. A husbands desire to his Wife.
 14. 
14. To a weeping Widdow.
 15. 
15. Ill-fauoured Huswifery. To one shrewdly married.
 16. 
16. To all Chollericke People.
 17. 
17. To those who I feare will find fault with this Comparison.
 18. 
18. Reasons for the taking of Tobacco.
 19. 
19. The fiue Properties of good Tobacco.
 20. 
20. A Citty Sheriffe.
 21. 
21. Si Sennior: Spaniard. Signore Si: Italian.
 22. 
22. Why Astrea left the Earth.
 23. 
23. On a Priuate, Rich, close-liuing Churle, alluding to him in Terence, who of himselfe sayes, Populus me sibulat, &c.
 24. 
24. To the same fellow.
 25. 
25. To the Pope.
 26. 
26. Papisticall cruelty.
 27. 
27. A Prayer hereupon, to the God of Iustice.
 28. 
28. To our wise Roman Diuines.
 29. 
29. Why the fiue-footed Iämbicke fits best in our English verse.
 30. 
30. To the Diuine soule of that excellent Epigrammatist, Master Iohn Owen.
 32. 
32. Why Preachers stand, and Auditors sit. To his louing Friend, Master Robert Burton.
 33. 
33. What Prosperity cannot perswade, Aduersity will enforce.
 34. 
34. To a Friend.
 35. 
35. Talking Beasts.
 36. 
36. The Gowte.
 37. 
37. [When I was of Lincolns Inne]
 38. 
38. An old Prouerb, though a strange one, truely exemplified.
 39. 
39. To a namelesse one.
 40. 
40. The first Arithmeticke.
 41. 
41. The seeming good workes of vnbeleeuers.
 42. 
42. Heauenly, and Earthly hearts.
 43. 
43. To a superstitious Papist, fearefull of Purgatory, who to his cost desires to haue a quick dispatch from that fearefull place.
 44. 
44. To rich Papists.
 45. 
45. An humble, contrite, and a double-deuided heart.
 46. 
46. A short Dialogue betwixt two ancient Philosophers, laughing Democritus, and weeping Heraclitus.
 47. 
47. Counsell to my young Cousens, Iohn and William Barker, Abel and Mathew Rogers, Sonnes to my Brother Barker, and his now wife.
 48. 
48. To one, who on his Gossips pratlings in a dangerous disease, thinks and hopes so much of his Recouery, that hee neglects the consideration of his Mortality.
 49. 
49. To my Reuerend sicke friend, W. G. of Bristoll.
 50. 
50. Papisticall Miracles.
 51. 
51. An Aduertisement to all Tradesmen, and may serue for Souldiers, or any others subiect to Casualtie.
 52. 
52. To a Card-Cheater.
 53. 
53. To one that hath lost both his eares.
 54. 
54. Whome Discretion doth not, Correction will keepe vnder.
 55. 
55. A meditation of too much and too little Winde at Sea, wracking Stormes, and staruing Calmes.
 56. 
56 Fearefull Hell-Fire.
 57. 
57. To Sir Senix Fornicator.
 58. 
58. Some standers by see more Some standers by leese more then Gamsters.
 59. 
59. To nobly descended Recusants.
 60. 
60. Traditions and Gods Word. To Papists.
 61. 
61. To one that askt me why I doe write so briefely.
 62. 
62. To my kinde louing bedfellow, Mr. Edward Payne, on the Gift of a Ring, wherein there was a Poesie of Patience.
 63. 
63. Wise mens ill successe, and Fooles Fortune. A Paradox.
 64. 
64. To the Pope.
 65. 
65. One of the Popes titles is, Seruant of Seruants.
 66. 
66. All things are vendible at Rome.
 67. 
67. To fault-finding more faulty Zoilus.
 68. 
68. To a hard-fauour'd rich Widdow, who, because she hath many Suitors, thinkes well of her selfe.
 69. 
69. Why Physicians thriue not in Bristoll.
 70. 
70. To my Readers. An Arsee-versee Request, to my Friend Iohn Owen.
 71. 
71. Health and Wealth.
 72. 
72. To Inuocators of Saints.
 73. 
73. To those Papists, who shew their ignorant Deuotion in their Aue Maries.
 74. 
74. To one of the Elders of the sanctified Parlor of Amsterdam.
 75. 
75. Great mens entertainement.
 77. 
77. To a Bad-minded, Cholericke, vngratefull man.
 78. 
78. To Master Fabian Sanford, Master of our Shippe and voyage in Newfound-Land, and may serue for all Masters trading there.
 79. 
79. Goodnes and Greatnes. To my good and louing Cousin, Mistris Thomasin Spicer, wife to Doctor Richard Spicer, Physicion.
 80. 
80. Mary Magdalens Teares. To my pretty Neece, Marie Barker.
 81. 
81. To my Neece and God-daughter, Grace Barker.
 82. 
82. To a namelesse, wise, modest, faire Gentlewoman, my louing and kind Friend, whom reciprocally I loue as hartily.
 83. 
83. To our most Royall Queene Mary, Wife, Daughter, and Sister to three Famous Kings.
 84. 
84. To the same most Royall Queene.
 85. 
85. A Newfound-land Poeticall Picture, of the admirable exactly featur'd young Gentlewoman, Mistris Anne Lowe, eldest Daughter to Sir Gabriel Lowe, Knight, my delicate Mistris.
 86. 
86. The Pourtraite.
 87. 
87. To the faire and vertuous Gentlewoman, Mistris Mary Winter, the younger, worthy of all loue.
 88. 
88. To the same beauteous modest Virgin, an Ænigma.
 88. 
88. To a faire modest Creature, who deserues a worthy name, though she desires here to be namelesse.
 90. 
90. To my outwardly faire, and inwardly vertuous kind friend, Mistris Marie Rogers, widdow, since marryed to Master Iohn Barker of Bristoll, Merchant, my kind and louing Brother in Law.
 91. 
91. To the faire, vertuous, wittie widdow, Mistris Sara Smeyths.
 92. 
92. To my kind and worthy Friend, Mistris E. B. wife to Captaine H. B. By my Captaines leaue.
 93. 
93. To my perpetuall Ualentine, worthy Mistris Mary Tayler, wife to Master Iohn Tayler Merchant of Bristoll.
 94. 
94. To my best Cousin, Mistris Elizabeth Flea, wife to Master Thomas Flea, of Exeter Merchant.
 95. 
95. To the faire modest Mayd, pretty Mrs. Martha Morris, and of her hansome sister, Mistris Marie Philips, both of Bristoll.
 96. 
96. Another to the same, being since married.
 97. 
97. To the pretty, pert, forward greene, Mistris L. B.
 98. 
98. To the modest, and vertuous Widdow, Mistris Elizabeth Gye of Bristoll, whose dead Husband Master Philip Gye, was sometimes Gouernour of the Plantation in Newfound-Land, where he, and she liued many yeeres happily and contentedly.
 99. 
99. To a debausht University. A Complaint against Drunkennesse.
 100. 
100. A short Iigge after this long Lachrymæ Pauin.
 101. 
101. To the Reuerend, Learned, Sober, and wise Gouernours in this Famous Uniuersity.
 102. 
102. That euery one may take his. To my worthy Readers.
 103. 
103. To my vnworthy Reader.
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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:
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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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193 Sleepe is the image of Death.

When I doe sleep, I seeme as I were dead;
Yet no part of my life's more sweetned:
Therefore 'twere strange that death should bitter be,
Since sleep, deaths image is so sweet to me.
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