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Men-Miracles

With other Poemes. By M. LL. St [i.e.Martin Lluelyn]

Lluelyn, Martin (1616-1682)

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To my Ingenious Freind Captaine LL.

To the Author on his Poems.

To the Author on his Poems.

A CVRSE TO VULCAN,

The Life and Death of Jacke the Nimble, cheife saddle Nagge to Doctor S. C. of C.

Enter Maurice Dancer.

Enter the Country Fidler.

Enter the Taberer.

Enter the Bag-piper.

Enter the Harper.

Epilogue. The Witney Prayer.

Master W. H. his Song to his Wife at Windsor.

The Spy of the Buttery,

[Yet for aule her hast]

Verses made in Bed to one studying in the same Chamber.

Epithalium. To Mistris M. A.

Song against Ale.

Ralph's speciall Care,

Irish-love Song.

To my Lord B. of Ch. when I presented him a Play.

To Dr. F. Deane of Ch. Ch. now Vicechancellour of Oxford, upon the Same occasion.

To my Lord C. An. 1640.

To my freind Mr J. F. at Leyden.

To the same.

To the same, being his Valentine.

On the Author of Love Melancholy. Second Edition.

To my Lord B. of S. he being at Yorke.

To my Lord B. of S. on New-yeares Day, 1643.

To Mistris D. C.

A SATYR, OCCASIONED BY The Author's Survey of a Scandalous Pamphlet Intituled, The Kings Cabinet Opened.

Elegie. On the Death of Sir Henry Spelman.

Elegie On the Death of Sir Bevile Grenvile.

Elegie. On C. W. H. slaine at Newarke.

Elegie. On the death of Sir John Smith Standard Bearer to His Majesty.

Elegie. On the death of Sir Horatio Vere.

Elegie. On the Death of Master R. B. Student of Ch. Ch.

Elegie. On the death of Master H. C.

Epitaph on the same.

Epitaph on—borne tenne Weekes before his Time, died at three Quarters.

Elegie. On the death of Master W. Cartwright.

AN ELEGIE ON THE MOST REVEREND FATHER in God Wiillam, Lord Arch-Bishop of Canterbury,

Elegie: On the death of Mistris Chaworth.

Epitaph. On Mistris R.

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To the same.

Madam,

Recover'd by your pow'rfull prayers I send
Some short reflexions of the health you lends
A great Assemblies Vote wove in one cloud,
Had beene of weaker force, although more loud.
Your closet wishes shelter gifts divine,
Where ere you pray you make the place a Shrine.
Tis not a Congregation that can heale,
The Blessing's not toth' Number, but toth' zeale.
Your single sigh may for a miriad ly,
One Saint like you stands for a Hierarchy,
Your Prayer hath Balsame int', and can endure
Or to be calld a Sacrifice or cure.

88

Boast I a double Title then since you,
Deigne me your Servant, and your Patient too.