University of Virginia Library

[To worthy Persons.]

To the high & mighty Monarch of great Britaine, my most deere Soueraigne, King Iames.

For Bounty, Clemency, and Chastity,
(Three Vertues which in Cæsars sildome meete)
No King that euer swaid this Monarchy
To Rules of Grace and Peace, hath made so meete;
Bloud thou abhorrst, sith (oft) thereon doth fleete
Extremity of law, to Worlds of wrong:
But bitter Bloud thou makest suger-sweete:
In the right Veines to which it doth belong.
If some escape those Channells, griu'd thou art
And long'st to stop it straite (so maist thou long)
Thou want'st no Will, much lesse Wit, Powre, or Art,
To heale thy Commons Hurts, and make them strong:
Then, with a Ladies hand, sith thou wouldst cure,
The Sore's too sore that cannot That endure.

True Britaines to their Prince.

Vnto the highst we are enforc'd to giue
Numbers of Names his Nature so to show;
But all come short of that we do beleeue
Is due to Him for whome all Natures flowe.
So thou his Image, whome a God he stiles,
(That giues no name that Nature doth reiect)
We name by diuers kingly names, the whiles
Thy nature farre surmounts them in effect.
And if the minde doth shew her rightest face
In glasses of the eyes (as some auouche)
Then is thy greatnesse lesser then thy grace,
Though to thy Greatnesse greatest Peeres do crouche:
Then greatest Branch of Highnes highest Tree,
Thou being our Prince, we must great Britaines bee.

To the most honorable by Vertue, State, and Place, Thomas, Lord Elesmere, Lord Chancellor of England, mine euer-approoued good Lord and Master.

While Loue doth search the Cauernes of my Braine
To finde Wits Treasures to adorne thy Fame,
I finde (great Master) it doth toile in vaine;
Because the Mine's too empty for the same:
For, if in thee, wee eye what Eyes may see,
It makes the Eye, in what it sees, delight;
But if we looke on That vnseene in thee
(But by Effects) it ioyes the minde and Spright.
Thy Matter is most formall; and thy Forme
Is most materiall in refined worth:
And both to Glory, GRACE doth still conforme;
For, all that heare or see thee, sets thee forth.
Then, though thine owne I be, I may auerr,
No King on Earth hath such a Chancellor.

To the right honorable Councellor of Councellors Robert Earle of Salisbury, Lord Treasurer of England.

Achilles , to his friend Patroclus had;
Aeneas, his Achates; Philips Sonne
Had his Ephestion; and Darius made
Zopirus Sterne of his Dominion.
Scipio had Lælius; But the best of them
Steeded much lesse then thou, their King and Realme.

To the most noble and right-right honorably disposed Lord, Thomas Earle of Suffolke, Lord Chamberlaine to his most excellent Matie. &c.

Heroick, and deere naturde noble Lord,
Which doth extend it selfe to good them all
That follow thee, or doth with It accord.
Vouchsafe to let me let thy NAME to fall
Out of my Pen among thy fellow-Peeres
With Care (past care) which doth to It belong;
Whose goodnesse vnto All It selfe endeeres,
As did thy plaine (yet Princely) FATHERS, long.
For which he was a member best belou'd
That e're this STATE produc'd beneath the HEAD,
Then thine, by his deere nature being mou'd,
Must gaine like loue, but cheaper purchased.
That all may say (when thy deere life is done,
For gayning (cost-lesse) loue, such Sire, such Sonne.

To the most noble, learned, temperate, and iudicious Lord, Henry, Earle of Northampton, Lord priuy-Seale, &c.

Deere Lord! thy Vertues and admired Worth,
Both Time and Fortune now makes so to shine,
By that cleere Starre ascended from the Noth,
That now thy Rates, in pow'r, are halfe diuine.
Before, thy Vertues did thy minde but schoole
To make it capable of Power and Sway;
Which, so prepard, straight found the way to rule
By learning long discreetly to obay.
For though thy Forces wanted armes to act:
Yet that was all their want, and had more skill
Then some that were (in action) thoght exact:
So thou dost gouerne men, as Wit doth Will.
For, as thou actest now, on Wisedomes Stage,
Thine action glorifies thy Name, and Age.

To the right reuerend Father in God, Doctor Abbot, Bishop of London.

Most graue, indicious, learnd, and reuerend Priest,
Whose place, whose grace, whose glory, and whose All
Are such as we must hemme within the List
Of those whome wee account most Principall.
There was a time, when I (vnworthy I)
Was knowne to thee; when thou such vse didst make
(For mine aduantage) of my Quality,
As loue is bound t'abound (thus) for thy sake.
The Serpents wisedome, Doue-like Innocence,
Thy Head and Heart doth harbour; so that thou
With grace dost beare high Fortunes Eminence,
Which for thy woorthes, she doth on thee bestow:
Pardon (great Prelate) sith I thus presume
To sence Perfection with imperfect Fume.

To my much honored Lord, worthy of all honorable Titles, for courage, wit, and learning, William Earle of Pembrooke.

Learn'd and iudicious Lord, if I should balke
Thyne honord Name, it being in my way;
My Muse vnworthy were of such a walke
Where Honors Branches make it euer May.
O! could my Might with May proportion hold,
My May should be so glorious, in effect,
That It should worke what Might and glory could,
Wherewith thy Glories Stile should still be deckt.
But though I May, I cannot wanting Might;
Which makes my May to worke as cold as bare:
So then (like Winter) I must pinch thy right,
Although to right thee be my Muses care:
But when the Sonne of Fauour shines on mee
My May may then have Might to flourish thee.

To the right noble Lord, worthy of all loue and honor, the Lord Vicount Lisle.

Deere Lord, while I doe muse to finde out Words
To suite thy Worth, I finde the Labour great:
For, still so much true Worthines affoords
That fullest Words are nothing so Compleate.
Faine would I do thee honor If I could,
For many deere respects: but, ah, alas,
Small is the honor Rimes both few, and cold
Can giue thy Vertue, which all praise doth passe.
Learning and Armes, together with the Muse,
(Which Trinity of Powers Artes Heau'n sett forth)
Thy Brother did into thy Brest infuse
As to the Heire of all his matchlesse WORTH:
Then fish Sr. Phillip still in thee abides
There's more in thee then all the World besides.

To my right noble Pupill, and ioy of my heart, Aulgernoun, Lord Percy.

Th' Italian hand I teach you; but their Tricks
I cannot teach; for, they are Politicks.
Yet if their Politicks you do not learne
Do not so much as once but touch the sterne
Of any state, though you be putt to it:
For them it wracks that want No Want of Witt.

To the honorable, and my much honord Sr. Iohn Egerton Knight.

To minde you in my wilde light-footed Rimes,
Which runne like Roes still scarce themselues they see,
Is but a Trick (vs'd in these wilder Times)
That scarse with Ciuill manners doth agree:
Yet, for my Muse would faine her Cunning proue
To Catch you (as men Hares with Tabers catch)
Shee drawes these lines to compasse in your loue:
For which in game and ernest still I watch:
And if thereby I chance to compasse it,
Ile say your loue is tamer then my Witt.

To the most truly noble knight, worthy of all praise, loue, and honor; Sr. Iohn Harington, onely sonne to the noble Lord, the Lord Harington.

Should I depaint thee with those shades, and Lights,
(For, rightest Coulors will but wrong the Life)
That might but touch thy Vertues Depths, and Heights;
Arte with her selfe, would striue to bee at strife:
For, should I touch thy minde (intangible,
Fraught vvith what euer makes or good, or great,
As Learning, Language, Artes, immensible
Witt, Courage, Courtesie; and all compleat)
I should but straine my skill to do thee wrong
Sith Arte it selfe may faile to do thee right;
All thy Perfections are so great, so strenge,
As are the Paires that gaue those Parts such might.
Thou blest wast in thy Tutor too; (as was
The Worlds first Conqueror) for such was Hee
As, being dead, his Woorth (that Price did passe)
Stil liues in mindes that highlyest valued bee.
TOVY, although the Mother of vs all
Re-getts thee in her Wombe, thou filst her so
With glory of thy Vertues, that shee shall
Preserue thy name till sheere-chaos'd go
To purging-Flames; yet they (with voice deuine)
Shall thunder forth thy PVPILLS same, and thine.

To the truly noble knight, Sr. Allen Percy.

Wert thou where euer humane Creatures were
Though Sauages of most inhumane kinde;
Yet (noble knight) as thou thy selfe dost beare,
Thou vvouldst among them loue and fauour finde;
So faire thy Beds, but more faire thy minde
Appeares t'externall, and internall Sence,
That they the Barbaroust Heartes vvould strongly binde
T'adore thee as some Super-excellence:
So, on (deere Knight) vvith thy so happy Race,
While Heau'n and Earth do thee (in loue) embrace.

To the most learned and Valerous knight, Sr. Christopher Heydon.

Learning and Armes, both being much distrest,
For vvant of harbour (since our Sidney dyde,
Sith they sought harbour in one single Brest)
At last they entred thine; vvhere they abide,
Wherein, it's hard to say, vvhich hath chiefe place
Mars, or Minerua: but, both so do shine,
That they, in Thee, are glorious for thy grace,
VVhich in Fames Rubrick, thus I enterline.
Thou guardedst That, vvhereat a Chamber shott,
VVith many a Hott-shortels; and didst returne
Their broken trash (vvhich they for mischiefe gott)
Into their Brests, vvhere it, till death, did burne:
So, Heau'n and Earth must eccho lowd thy fame,
Sith they are greatly pleasurde by the same.

To the learned, iudicious, and my much honored Alye, Sir Francis Louell Knight.

Deere Knight, I am thine owne, by Bonds as strong
As Bloud can make, or humblest loue compose;
Then thee I may not praise, sith praise they wrong
Who praise themselues: But Truth will this approue,
Thou Art much more then thou wilt Seeme to bee;
Yet Bee thou wilt what best besteme to Thee.

To my much honored, and affectionately beloued Sir Edward Walgraue Knight.

Thou Leonine-Lambe whose conuersation sweete
Giues all content to all that worthy are;
Yet ready to giue Wrong a sharpe regreete:
So Knightly entertainst thou peace or warre.
Could I aduance thy Crest on GLORIES Helme
With Lines immortall; I would recollect
My drouping Powres, (which toile doth ouer-whelme)
And place it there in signe of Worths effect.
For, if true Worth doth truest Glory gaine,
Thy Fame's as bright, as thy Worth's right and plaine.

To the thrice noble, learned, and renowned knight, Sr. William Sydley.

Fame , that acquaints my muse with rarest Men,
Novv makes thee subiect to her Tongue, my Pen.
Thy rare Perfections she should much neglect,
Should shee not set thee forth, as Fames Elect!
Fortune to thee, (as to fewe learn'd beside)
Giues great estate, and thy state dignifide;
But, should shee giue thee what thou dost deserue,
Shee should exhaust hir Store thy turne to serue:
Sith thou turn'st all, which now thou dost possesse,
But to the seruice of true Worthinesse.

To the royall, ingenious, and all-learned knight, Sr. Francis Bacon.

Thy Bounty, and the Beauty of thy Witt
(Comprisd in Lifts of Law, and learned Arts,
Each making thee for great Imployment fitt
Which now thou hast, (though short of thy deserts)
Compells my Pen to let fall shining Inke
All to bedew the Bates that deck thy Front;
And to thy health in Helicon to drinke
As, to her Bellamour, the Muse is wont:
For, thou dost her embozom; and, dost vse
Her company for sport twixt graue affaires:
So vtterst Law the liuelyer through thy Muse:
And for that all thy Notes are sweetest Aires;
My Muse thus notes thy worth in eu'ry Line,
With yncke which thus she sugers; so, to shine:

To my right worthily-beloued Sr. Iohn Dauies Knight. Atturney generall of Ireland.

Good Sir, your nature so affects my Name,
That both your Name and Nature are mine owne:
And in their loue to both, affect your fame;
Yet hauing not like fortunes, liue vnknowne.
And (Loadstone-like) did not your nature draw
Mine to the Poynt which yours did once proiect,
These hard Rimes to digest (as rude as raw)
No Cause should ere haue brought to this effect.
But yet to imitate our Friends in ill
Is much more ill; and to vnkinde accord
Of Ill you writ too well; and so I will
(If so I can) to make Ill more abhord:
Then if you like these Purgings of my Braine,
Ile nere beleeue that ought it yeelds in vaine.

To the immortall memory, and deserued honor of the Writer of the Tragedy of Mustapha, (as it is written, not Printed) by Sr: Fulk Greuill, Knight.

Swell prowdly Numbers on Words windy Seas
To raise this Buskin-Poet to the Skies;
And fix him there among the Pleyades,
To light the Muse in gloomy Tragedies.
Vpon Times scowling Brow he hath indorc'd,
A Tragedy that shall that Brow out-weare;
Wherein the Muse beyond the Minde is forc'd
(In rarest Raptures) to Arts highest Spheare:
No Line but reaches to the Firmament
Of highest Sense, from surest Ground of Wit.
No Word but is like Phebus luculent;
Then, all yeeld luster well-nere infinite:
So, shine, bright Scænes, till, on the Starry Stage,
The Gods re-act you in their Equipage.

To the most noble and vallerous Knight, Sr. Robert Mauncell.

Glory of Wales, and Splendor of thy Name,
True Valors Home; whose more then manly Heart
Still Death out-dares; whose Earnest is thy Game
By Sea or Land; and ioy'st but in his Smart.
Hold, Muse, no more; to tell what All he is,
Would aske a volume greater farre then this.

To my much honored, approoued, and beloued friend, Sr. Iohn Sammes knight.

To you these gamesome Measures nimbly moue,
To shew, in ernest, how my Muse desires
To shew how much shee honors you for loue,
Which I haue proued in Afflictions Fyres:
No greater proofe Mistrust it selfe requires:
Then as to him I loue for tryed trust,
And loues the mirth that well the Muse attires,
I send these Toyes to read, which vent I must,
Or Mirth will madde my Braines, which them inspires,
To see the Follies which in all appeare;
And mee among the rest; who still do lust
To ouer-runne them in my Rimes careere:
Then take and reade; but if they welcome bee,
Laugh net at them, but when you smile on mee.

To the worthy knight Sr. Edward Eston.

Were all our knights so worthy (euery way)
Of their degree as thou; then should no Play
Nor ernest Scoffe, so taxesome (worthyly)
As now they do: but, thy Soules clearer Eye
Sees what becomes thy state in every kinde;
And dost thereafter: yea, thou seekst to finde
That which adornes thee, in the eye of all
That are not enuious, proude, or partiall:
Breefly, thou art that which thou seemst to bee;
And, seemst well worthy of more high degree.

To my deere Pupill, and highly honord friend, Thomas Puckering Esquire.

I do protest (alas, that's easly done,
Sith all the world doth nothing but protest)
Your Beames of fauour warme me like the Sunne
That darts his comforts beames from East, to West.
From East to West (so farre our Fortunes flee
Each other fro) from you the rising East
To mee, the falling West, they stretched bee;
Where, till they higher rise, they lowely rest,
And though (like Thetis) I them entertaine
With streames of brackish Teares, rais'd high by ioy:
Yet this good do they by their rest obtaine;
They do their vertue kindly so imploy;
That when they rise againe, to set in mee;
I may receaue the same, and shine through thee.

To my good friend Rich: Rauenscroft Esquire.

A Croft I made my Wife, which bare to me
A Croppe of Care, and Barne the same to Inne:
But thou art Rauens-croft, and Rauens bee
Spoilers of Crofts, and Cropps that are therin,
But if the Crofts containe but croppes of cares,
They do but well to spoyle them in the growing:
For better were it they should beare but Tares
Then beare but that that is lesse worth the mowing,
If thou be Rauens-croft then, clens'd is thy Croft
From all that hurtfull is: for, lawes correct
Those that do kill them, sith they beare aloft
That which the Atre below, doth but infect.
Then sith my half's a Croft, as is thy name,
For that I loue, but more for thy good fame.

To my most louing, and intirely beloued Pupill, Mr. Arthur De-la-vale, attending the right honorable, and most happy Earle of Dunbarre.

Thy Name is of the Vale; thy Nature, not:
For, it is kinde, and truly generous;
As are thy worthy brothers (well I wott)
Then is thy Nature highly vertuous:
Yet being lowly too, as is the Dale,
Thy Name thy Nature sits deere De-la-vale.

To all the Lord Chancelors retunie, and attendants.

Masters , nay, fellowes, though you Maisters be,
Fellowes in cloth, though better be your Coates,
And fellow Mowse that pick'st vp many Grotes
(Lying at the Gate) my Muse saluteth yee.
The formost of the Crew I bidd adue,
Busied too much to read myne idle Rimes;
But fellow Cowley, sighing many Times
Fot some great losse; for solace them should view.
What great ones, are yee gon at first farwell?
Nay, take me with yee; Ile not leaue yee so:
Our Lord wee mischiefe must before wee go,
Then let's conspire and keepe him here in hell;
And pray that he may here be pained thus
As long as he may good the Land, and vs.

To my al-to-beloued friend, Thomas Butler Esquire.

I cannot leaue thee out, sith I am in
The lists of thine Affection: nor, can I
So put thee out with Coulors masculine,
But Truth may say I do the life bely.
To me, so faire's the face of thy desart,
That if my Lines should reach but to thy right,
I should bee thought to flatter by mine Arte;
And shadowes would but wrong what is so bright.
Then, in a line, thee to deliniate,
Thou arte the Antitype of what I hate.

To my intirely beloued worthy friend, Mr. Charles Walgraue.

Some Rascalls brag that gentlemen they be,
Because their fathers were Lords, Knights or Squires:
Yet Rebels are themselues to that degree;
Running for all their Gentry to their Sires.
Our House (say they) hath bin of antient standing:
(But then (say I) such Heires stood not withall)
Before the Conquest long, the Sheere commaunding.
God helpe your House; for now it's like to fall
(Say I againe) you, you will pull it downe,
Your vices outrage is so violent:
For, Vertue still doth vnder-prop Renowne;
And Curtesie in Vertue resident.
If matchlesse Curtesie (that winnes each heart)
Do best bewray from whence a man's descended,
Thou art well fitted for that noble part,
Thou plaist it well, for it thou art commended:
Because, in thee, it is not counterfet;
Which makes thee (Diamond-like) more Deere then Great.

To my worthy friend Robert Poyntz Esquire.

Thy Name is antient, then, some still haue beene
T'vphold the Branches while they flourisht greene:
Thou art a Branch so full of Pith, and Sap
That in thy House thou stopst each little gap.
Mistake me not; my me meaning's most sincere,
As now thou art, and thy fore-fathers were.

To mine as antient as louing friend Mr. Peter Ferriman.

Of my Hearts heau'n through loue (though hel through sin)
Peter thou keepst the Keyes; yet art lockt in.

To the right well-deseruing Mr. Mathew Royden.

Mathew , thou hast tane Custome (now) so long
Of Artes abstruse, that I do inly long
To call thee lowdly to attend on Grace,
That leads to Glory those that Arte do grace.
Thou had'st a Muse as potent in her pow'r,
As those in which the Heu'ns all graces powre:
Then, as my Rimes equiuocally meete,
So, double fame, for thy like Arte, is meete.

To the most bountifull house-keeper, and deseruedly beloued, Thomas Farmer Esquire.

The more like God Men bee, the better men;
And God's most glorious in his helpfull grace:
If so; such goodnes makes Thee glorious then,
On whome all men do feede in wretched case:
God is thy Land-Lord, thou, his Farmer art;
Yet hee's thy Husbandman, and takes thy part.

To the learned and discreet Gent. George Caluert, Esquire, one of the Clarkes of the Councell.

Y'are now the greatest Clarke for your wise Pen,
Which falsifies the Prouerbe, which affirmes
The greatest Clarkes are not the wisest men:
But, Witt your place, your place your Wit confirmes.
And for thy Wisdome, Honesty, and Arte,
Thy Place, though great, scarse answeres thy desart.

To my deere and much respected friend, Arthure Maynwarring Esquire, bearer of the Purse before the Lo: Chancellor.

You beare the Purse; but most vnlike to him
That bare it for the Lord, our Lord adores:
That Purse had money in't, though not so trim,
But yours is rich, and yet no money stores.
Besides, in shew, he was a Saint, at least,
Yet had within the Scale of reprobation:
But you, no Saint in shew, but one in Brest;
So are you all quite of another fashion.
Your Purse is monylesse; but yet it beares
What soone would Mountaines make, if one might vse it:
But that I dare not do for both mine Eares,
Least that great Keeper say I much abuse it.
God blesse me from his Sentence, and such Tricks,
That are not learnd in Iustus Politicks.

To my beloued Walter Ligh Esquire, Seruant at Armes attending the Lord Chancellor of England.

Thine out and in-side are so good; and great,
That worthy art thou that great Mase to beare
Before that great-good Lord, that Lawes doth mete
With Conscience, sith there is so little here.
When thou before him bear'st that mighty Mase
Thou gost before the grau'st, and goodliest Lord
That euery yet supplide that honord Place:
With whose faire Stature thou dost so accord,
That when thou go'st before, and He behinde,
You come behinde none in you diuers kinde.

To my truly honest (and so right honorable) Captaine Lawrence Masterson, my good friend.

Laurence , the Grediorne (that erst broild to death
A Saint that bare thy Name) that Iron hot
Got to his sacred fame immortall breath;
Which vvith cold Iron (good Captaine) thou hast gott.
If Souldiers may be Saints, (as some haue bin)
Then to Saints Lavvrence thou art neere of kin.

To my deere friend, countryman, and expert Master in the liberall science of Musick, Mr Thomas Warrock.

One Citty brought vs forth, and brought vs vp;
Then drinke I in this Heliconian Cup
To thee in Health: but if the liquor bee
Not halfe so pleasing as I vvish for thee,
That fault be mine: for thou deseru'st the best
For thy rare Hand, Head, Heart and louing Brest.

To the most iuditious, and excellent Lyrick-Poet, Doctor Campion.

Vpon my selfe I should iust vengeance take
Should I omitt thy mention in my Rimes,
Whose Lines and Notes do lullaby (awake)
In Heau'ns of pleasure, these vnpleasant Times.
Neuer did Lyricks more then happie straines,
(Straind out of Arte by nature; so, with ease)
So purely hitt the moods, and various Vaines
Of musick, and her Hearers, as do These.
So, thou canst cure the Body, and the minde
(Rare Doctor) with thy two-fold soundest Arte:
Hipocrates hath taught thee the one kinde;
Apollo, and the Muse the other Part:
And both so well; that thou with both dost please:
The Minde, with pleasure; and the Corps, with ease.

To my truly-honest worthy friend, Iohn Barlow Esquire.

If Honesty, (true Honors playner name)
May put thee in the Regester of Fame,
Then I, from thence, may take authority
There to enrole thee meritoriously.
Thy minde is free from all that thwarts the same:
Whose noble nature dignifies thy name:
Then should I wrong thee being my belou'd,
Should I not praise that which is so approud.

To the deere memory of Mr. Thomas Francis of Northfolke, Brother in law to mine approoued friend R. R.

Fame , and my Friend, (who is most deere to mee)
Haue made me so acquainted now, with Thee,
That, for that deere friends sake, and for thine owne,
Ile make thee longer, though not better knovvne.
Hee is most blest in hauing such a friend;
For, though Times change, thou holdst out to the end
One, and the same in loue; like that staid POWRE
Whome thou dost imitate: Then, Fortunes lovvre
Makes thee no Changeling: so, thy friend and mine
Still findes thy goodnesse, like that GOOD diuine.
So do as many as haue need of Thee:
For, thou to all art helpefull, kinde, and free.
The House, vvherein thou harbourst, shevves thy hart,
As it the Permors doth, that takes thy part.
The needy, neighb'ring you, can this auerre;
And so can others that do come from farre.
Who (vua-voce) say, they finde more good
In you, then Thousands of more liuelihood.
Then, least that goodnesse, Time should darken quite,
These Lines, past Time, shall keepe them still in sight.

To my kinde Nephew Mr. Charles Bowen.

Charles , you are neere me, then I cannot balke,
You and your name that lye so in my walke:
Yet wil be breefe with thee, sith thou art mine,
Thine Aunt and all: then, I must needs be thine.

To the Lady Wroth.

In the deserued praise of heauenly Musick: resembling it to God himselfe.

The Motion which the nine-fold sacred Quire
Of Angells make; the Blisse of all the blest;
Which (next the Highst) most fils the high'st Desire;
And moues but Soules, that moue in Pleasures rest.
The heauenly charme that lullabies our woes;
And recollects the Minde that cares distract:
The liuely death of ioyfull Thoughts or'ethrowes:
And brings rare ioyes, but thought on, into act
Which (like the Soule of all the world) doth moue.
The vniuersall Nature of this All:
The life of Life; and Soul of ioy, and loue:
High Raptures heauen; the THAT I cannot call
(Like God) by reall Name: And, what is thy?
But Musick (next the Highst) the highest Blisse.

To our English Orpheus, my deere friend, M. Iohn Allen.

Were I thy Iudge (deere Iacke) for voice and skill)
Thou as a mortall Angell shouldst be held:
For; when mine Eares thy heauenly voice doth fill,
My Soule hath much more ioy then she can wield,
Whereof (not being dainty to thy friend)
Thou hast of yore, so lifted vp my Spirit,
That (as in Rapture) she heaun's pleasures kend:
For which, and for thy loue, and other merrit,
Vpon this paper-stone, Ile graue thy Name;
That Times to come may know thee by the same.

To the generous Maister in Musicke, Mr. Oxford.

Not for thy Person, nor Parts musicall
Do I applaud thee (though all pleasing bee)
But, for the small esteeme, thou makst of all;
For which Ile stretch my lines to honor thee.
Some haue but Musicke somewhat past the Meane,
Yet are so treble proud of it, that they
At no request, will act in Musickes Sceane;
These become bitter with their sweetest play:
But like a free-Spirit (thereby winning Harts)
Thou art not dainty of thy dainty Parts.

To mine intirely beloued, Mr. Thomas Giles, most expert teacher in the Courtly Quality of Dauncing.

Thou Master of the seemelieft motions (yet)
That e're were taught in measure of a Daunce;
Who to thy Minde, well mou'd, thy feete dost set:
So, one, the others fame doth much aduance.
In thy profession, neuer Sunne yet saw
A man that hath, or can do more then Thou;
The quaint Proportions that thy Measures draw.
And thy faire Minde (where vertues motions flow)
Makes thee renownd, belou'd, and still admird,
Whereto thy merrits iustly have aspirde.

To my worthy friend, and admired Mr. in the Art of Musicke, M. Peter Edney.

Peter , thy voyce (like Peters Sword) doth sheare,
From Matchus? No; from all their daintiest Eare:
And bearst it vvith thee, by thy voyces sound,
To heare thy Sharpes, and Flats on Musicks Ground.
Thy iudgement in that Arte, thy wit in all,
That vnder Iudgement of the Wit doth fall;
Thy staide discretion, and thyne honesty,
With what else graces their diuersity,
Are such, that thou maist well called Peter bee;
For, thou art chiefe in Grace, and Musicks See.

To myne approoued and sincerely beloued friend, Iohn Gyffard Esquire.

To my deere Scholler Master Iohn Hales.

Thine Eye is in mine Eye, and all the while
I write, it followes mee to Tax my stile
If it should thee neglect, that art to me
A friend, what euer more (if more might be)
But, were it in my powr to make thee mount,
As in my Pens to cast thy iust account:
Thou shouldst be what thou wouldst, or oughtst at least,
That's equall to a Lord: Ile owe the rest:
For should I say't, some greater men would grutch,
(Being lesse of worth) as though I wrongd them much:
But this (in mine experience) say I can,
A nobler nature neede not be in Man.

To my truly louing & beloued friend Mr. William Wall.

Well, be so still; be (as thou art) a Wall
For thy friends sauegard, and thine owne withall:
Be thou thy selfe, and thou thy selfe wilt bee
Desirde of all that rightly value thee:
For, if my loue my Iudgement blinde not, then
Thou art more vvorth then many vvealthy men.

That which was, nere lou'd the Fryer.

There vvas a Time, yea, yea, a time there vvas,
(But that that vvas, the Fryer neuer lou'd)
When he vvas held a Beast that vvas an Asle,
But novv an Asse is often best approu'd:
If Beasts approued, be approued best,
This is a beastly world that men detest.

Epigram.

Well, go to World, tell me thou canst not skill
Of men that are not absolate in ill:
But such as thou to Glory dost aduance,
After the Deuills pipe and thine, must dance:
Yet, ere I to your pipe (o foote it would,
Ile see you tabberd while your Hides can hold.

Against Plumbus the wealthy most miserable Miser.

Plumbus may spend a Thousand pounds a yeare:
And Iuftice is of peace, that shames the Sheere,
Yet like a Begger goes, stil goes on foote;
And neuer yet hath vsed Horse or Boote.
From home, to London (three times forty miles)
Is but a walke with Plumbus otherwhiles.
At night, in Ale-houses the Man doth lye
To exercise his pure Spirits pouerty.
O diuine Vertue! which a man dost make
To liue in Wealth as though he liu'd in lacke.
But Plumbus come to Towne, he, by and by,
Heard that his lownesse should be Sheriffe hie:
Then fell he in a Feauer, with pure feare,
That Fortune would o'rethrow him with this Reare,
And that a royal Hand with one Pins point
(By pricking) would his strong-knit state vnioynt.
Which to preuent, he had liu'd as though he dide
In this base fashion, so his State to hide
But Plumbus much I muse thou worldly art;
When, through a leafe, one pricke doth kill thy heart.

Against Faustine.

Faustine will not deuorc'd be from her Pheere,
Though he (it seemes) good reason hath for That:
Yet, till he assurde her some good state a yeere,
Shee seemd (wise-wench) besides her wits thereat,
But, that being done, shee (like a louing wife,
To please her husband, and herselfe beside)
An other husband tooke, to stinte the strife;
That twixt her and her husband did abide.
Fy ont, she should be trust for this amisse:
“Treason's in Trust, her Quarters pay for This.

To mine approued deere friend Mr. Peregrine Browne.

Thy Nature with thy Name doth one appeare:
For, as thou wert a Stranger to this life,
Thou carst for nought the World esteemeth deere.
What car'st for then? thy God, thy Soule, thy Wife.
Nay, something els thou carst for: thats for mee,
VVhich well I proue: Then, thus I honor thee:
Thy most true loue to skill and skills deuine,
Still makes thee in my heart a Peregrine.

To my louing and iuditious friend, Mr. Francis Wye.

VVre was the Nimphe neere which I first did breath,
And Wye's the Man with whome I loue to liue:
The first, is apt to nourish life and death;
The last, but comforts sweete, to life doth giue;
Then, Wye, I pree thee runne with righter Course
To mee; then Wye doth wandring from her Sourse.

Epigram

O flate I went vnto the Tower to see
A friend of mine, and being there, I found
The Chappell open, where was shewd to mee
Where Essex was interd, thats so renownd.
Vpon whose Graue were Pues but newly pight
To keepe all Eyes from seeing where he lay
Least they to teares dissolue might with the sight;
So, hees a Foote-stoole made for them that pray:
And Men preyd on him too, while he had breath;
So men pray on him both in life and death:
But noble Essex, now thy lou's so free,
That thou dost pray for them that pray on thee.

To my tenderly beloued friend Mr. Nicholas Deeble.

Hend Nicholas (quoth Chaucer) kinde to me,
Shall I with my loose lines vndo thy name?
In thy firme Lines the world my Fame may see;
And shall I quite thee in an Epigram?
Well sith it is thy luck to bee my friend,
Thy luck it is to dropp out of my Quill:
For, till my Memory bee at an end,
(In iest and earnest) I will minde thee still.
In ieft, Ile make such mention of thy Worth,
As shall, in ernest, shew how deere thou art:
In ernest, Nick, I will so set thee forth,
That thou shalt sell forth-with in any Mart.
Yet, wert thou myne to sell, as myne to vse,
I thinke no Chapman would buy thee of mee;
Because thy price should bee so precious,
As one that for no price would part from thee:
Yet, if at Hazard, thou thy selfe wilt play,
Ile set mee for thee; Nick me then, I pray.

To my deere friend Mr. Charles Fitz-leffery.

Great-little Charles (great in thine Arte and Witt,
But euer little in thine owne esteeme)
To thee, that now dost minde but holy Writ,
These lynes (though louing) will but lothsome seeme,
Yet, sith in Latine, thou on such did'st fall:
In British now (for now we Brittaines bee)
I send in such: What? nothing but mine All;
That's lesse then nothing in respect of thee:
But, if thou tak'st in worth my lesse then nought,
Ile giue thee more then All, when I am ought.

To most ingenious Mr. Francis Beamont.

Some, that thy Name abreuiate, call thee Franck:
So may they well, if they respect thy Witt:
For, like rich Corne (that some fooles call too ranck)
All cleane Witt-reapers still are griping it:
And, could I sow for thee to reape and vse,
I should esteeme it Manna for the Muse.

To myne intirely beloued, Mr. Iohn Sanford.

Ovt of the World; go, get thee hence avvay;
What makst in Hell with so much honesty?
Yet keepe it (Iohn) perhapps another day
T'will do thee good: meane vvhile thy friend (poore I)
Will sweare, for Arte and Nature, th'art as good
As whome soe're, if made of Flesh and Bloud.

To my deere friend Mr. Edward Lapworth, in Oxon.

I am your debter, for once praising mee;
VVherein you vvrongd your iudgement for my sake:
But, I do right myne in commending Thee,
Though from thy praise my praise may honor take:
But howsoere: that Vniuersity
Wherein thou liust, my doome will iustifie.

To my kinde friend Mr Charles Best.

Charles thou hast law, and thou hast Conscience too;
So dost in Conscience, what some others do
That thrine not by it: but, be ruld by me;
Let law and Conscience now so bee in thee
That thou maist liue by lawe, in lawfull wise,
Sith Time now silenceth the too precise:
But if thou wilt be mute, among thy Letters,
Thou shalt be Best, but worse shall be thy Betters.

To my beloued kinde friend Mr Robert Dawes.

VVho knowes thee by thy Nature, not thy Name,
Doth know thou art mis-namd; but not amisse
It is to call the wise unvvise, in game,
Sith Contraries shevv best by Contraries.
Thy Witt, Will, and thine other Requisitts,
make thee beloud of all good Wills and VVitts.

To myne ancient friend and kinde Countryman, Mr Philip King-man.

VVhy King-man, Philip? Whist, and me attend;
Ile ansvvere for thee, sith thou art my friend;
Thou art a King in ruling thy desires;
And man, for doing that vvhich Reas'n requires:
So do (good Phillip) still, the good is thine;
And so shalt still bee, thy good friend, and myne.

To myne ingenious, and learnedly gamesome friend Mr Iohn Owen, the short and sweete Epigramatist.

Lend me thine Hand; thine Head I vvould haue said;
(For my Hand's firmer, though thy Head's more staid)
To add some merry Measures vnto myne;
Then shall my Booke be prais'd (at least) forthine.
Thou (in the Tongue that Schollers most approue)
About WITTS Center dost so svveetly moue
Thine Orbes of Arte, that VVitts, which them obserue,
Make them for pleasure and for profit serue:
Plasur'd by Witt, and Profitted by skill;
So, thyne Arts Heau'n, reuolues thy glory still.

To my deere friend and Country-man, Mr Simon Hill.

Simon , I loue thee as thou vvert my Sonne;
So maist thou vvell be cald the sonne of Iohn.
Simon Iohannes then, if thou loust God,
For his sake loue me, and wee'l nere be od.

To my Brother Mr. Iames Dauies, Master in the Arte of Writing, in Oxford.

Iames , now thou liu'st, where I with pleasure liu'd;
Yet thriue thou there no worse then there I thriu'd,
And thou wilt Oxford finde a louing Nurse
To feede thy Mawe, with meate; with Coyne, thy Purse;
And when thou shalt grow Twy-childe, she will bee
Carefull and kinde (religiously) to thee:
Then, while thy strength continues, serue her so
That by thy seruice, she may greater grow
In Fame and Grace: so, shall she, as she should,
Make him, that makes her prass'd more manifold.

To my Brother Mr. Richard Dauies, Master likewise in the same faculty of writing.

Conforme thine Head, and Heart, vnto thine Hand,
Then staidly they thine Actions will command.
Thy Hand I taught, and partly storde thy Head
With Numbers, such, as stand in Cyphers stead
To make but others mount with praise vndue,
For nought but Nought, which is a Cypher true.
But if thou wilt be measurde by thy gaines,
Number not Words, but number Pounds with paines.
Who with a Sequence of but onely three
Would win WORTHS greatest REST, then heere theybee.

To the truly noble Lord, deseruedly al-be-loued, the Lord North.

Most noble Lord, that truest Worthinesse
Which in thy Nature and thy carriage shines,
Doth presse me novv to make them passe the Presse.
Led thereto by these too-slacke tvvisted Lines.
Thou art a Subiect vvorthy of the Muse
When most she raignes in height of happinesse;
Into vvhose noble Spright the Heauens infuse
All Guifts and Graces gracing Noblenesse.
In few, there are so many Parts in Thee,
(All wholy noble) as thus fixt shall bee
On Fames wings when she past her selfe doth flee.

TO THE MOST OPEN-HANDED, great-hearted, and truly noble-minded Knight, Sir Iohn Wentworth.

Magnifick Spirit, true Heros, glorious Knight,
Bounties o'reflowing FOVNT to moist the dry
Faint Soules of Armes and Art, now drouping quite;
To thee I say but this, Were I (poore I)
The Hand of Fortune to dispose of Hers,
Thou shouldst haue all that place men with the Starres:

TO THE MOST COMPLEAT Gentleman Iohn Luson Esquire.

Light of thy Sire, and Sunne to all that see
In prime of youth, to beare themselues aboue
The compasse of Wits Spheares that wheeling bee
About the Center of but humaine-loue:
Sith Heau'n and Earth do on thy Vertues smile,
I must (deere Sir) record it thus, the while.

To my most deere and best beloued Patronesse, Magdalen Colledge in Oxford.

O honyed Magdalen! sweete, past compare
Of all the blisfull Heau'ns, on Earth that are:
Happy are they that in thee liue at rest,
As free from Ignorance. as State-distrest.
O that I had an Angells tongue to mount
Thy praise beyond the pitch of high'st account.
Store makes me scarce; I haue, and haue not words
To royallize thy fame, as Pame affords:
For Fame and Fortune both together striues
To crowne thy Praise with rich superlatiues.
(Meere Abysse of terene felicity!
Diuine Inchantresse of the Eare and Eye)
The Wings wherewith thou mount'st thy self aboue
Are VVealth and Arte, and what else causeth loue.
Liue long togeather Head, and Corps, and all
That's yours directly, or Collaterall:
I haue no Guifts your Grace to amplifie;
But must, with myne aduice, the same supply:
Take heed bow you disioyne, or fall at strife;
For, I obserue all fortunes in this life;
And of them all which I haue seene or prou'd,
Yours onely yours, deserues to be belou'd.

To my most louing and highly valued friend, Mr. Nathaniell Tompkins.

To pay you (deere Nathaniell) with that Gold
I once receaued of you, is but right,
Yours gaue mee glory; then your debter should
Giue you the same, with wearing, made more bright:
But (ah) I cannot, sith you still refine
Your Worthes, which, at the worst, farre passed mine.

To my worthy beloued friend, Mr. Emmanuell Gyffard.

Thou, God with vs: That's neere as Man, with Men,
May be like God for Worthynesse of minde;
Thou Last of thy most worthy Bretheren
That dyde in honors Bedd, wherein they shin'd;
To thee these Lines are stretched, from his loue
Which thou shalt finde all thine when thou shalt proue.

To my louing and beloued friend Mr. Bartholomew Gyffard.

You are a younger Brother: but, God shield
That I should make you so, were you a Child:
Not I will make you (as you are) a Man
Of that desert, as you both Will, and can
Teach yonger Brothers to be generous:
And liue like those that grace, not shame, their House.

To Mr. George Cheyny, my good friend.

If by these Lines you measure shall my loue,
The same too short; my loue shall euer proue.

To my beloued Mr. Iohn Hoskins.

Iohn of all Iohns, if I should Stile thee so
Thou might'st except against it; sith it points
But at some Sott. Then, art thou such a one? No:
Thy witt (good Iohn's) too nimble in the Ioynts
To stand for such: but, for witt, thou maist bee
Iohn of all Iohns; at least, so held of mee.

To my deere Cousine and kinde friend Mr. Rich: Harries.

Had'st thou a fortune Dick (as thou maist haue)
And worthy art thou of high Fortunes grace)
Thou wouldst be royall, frugall, plaine, and braue;
All this thou wouldst bee, in the Hart, and Face.
But this thou couldst not bee, without that Arte
That rules the Starrs, and Fortune can controule:
But such thou hast, and yet not such thou art,
Because good Nature Arte doth ouer-rule:
For now (as waggs the VVorld) the wiliest vvaggs
That sacrifice good Nature to ill gayne
Be th'only Iudasses that beare the Baggs
VVhile poore Desciples moneylesse remaine:
But Cousin Dick, to Cousin Fortune blinde
Steale from her lapp a Wench as rich as kinde.

To my highly vallued Mr. George Chapman, Father of our English Poets.

I knovv thee not (good George) but by thy Pen,
For vvhich I ranke thee vvith the rarest men.
And in that Ranke I put thee in the Front;
Especially of Poets of account.
VVho art the Treassurer of that Company;
But in thy hand too little Coyne doth lye:
For, of all Artes that novv in London are
Poets gett least in vttring of their Ware.
But thou hast in thy Head and Hart, and Hand,
Treasures of Arte that Treasure can command.
Ah, vvould they could; then should thy Wealth, and Witt
Bee equall; and, a lofty Fortune fitt.
But George, thou vvert? ccurst, and so vvas I
To bee of that most blessed Company:
For, if they most are blest, that most are Crost,
Then Poets (I am sure) are blessed most.
Yet wee with Rime and Reason trimme the Times,
Though they giue little reason for our Rimes.
The reason is (els error blinds my Witts)
They reason want to do what Honor fitts.
But let them do as please them, wee must do
What Phæbus (Sire of Arte) moues Nature to.

To my most honest, louing, and well-deseruing friend, and Country-man, Mr. Iohn Gwillim.

VVhat I haue sedd of thee, and of thy Booke,
Is extant; yet, I haue not thee forsooke
In loue, but whensoeuer Time doth serue
To giue thy Guifts their due, That our ile kerue
From Fames rich Stock: Then Guillim thou art hee
That Armes hast made (perforce) to honor thee:
But Armes, nor Force can honor thee so much
As thy good Heart, Integrities None-such.

To my Sonne S: D

The prudent Sire, if vertuous (too) he bee,
Forbeares to do that Ill; his Sonne should see,
And so (I must confesse) I should haue done;
But as I shall esteeme thee for my Sonne,
Ensue mee in my best Parts, not my worst;
Els thou of God and me shalt bee accurst.
And do as Shem did, seeing his father lye
Expos'd to shame, through his ebrietie,
With Eyes auerted, he (most blessed Childe)
His Fathers shame most honorably Veild.
Then Shem ensue; for, if thou follow Ham,
The Curse will cleaue to thee which thee will damne.
Couer my Cryme if it do naked lye
Exposd to shame in Vertues purer Eye:
The rather, sith it was not Bacchus Raigne,
But Wine, call'd Witt, that giddy made my Braine.

To myne honest as louing friend Mr. Michaell Drayton.

Michaell , where art thou? what's become of thee?
Haue the nyne Wenches stolne thee from thy selfe?
Or from their conuersation dost thou flee,
Sith they are rich in Science not in Pelfe?
Bee not vnconstant (Michaell) in thy loue
To Girles so gracefull in the Hart, and Face;
Although thereby thou maist a Poet proue,
(That's poore as Iob) yet euer those embrace
By whome thou dost enioy a Heau'n on Earth;
And, in this vale of Teares, a Mount of mirth.

To mine approued and beloued friend, Mr. Richard Chambers Tutor to the Lo: Percy.

Sith all mens Births are like, yet borne vnlike;
Some borne to state, and some are state to seeke,
Small state serues Natures neede, if hart bee meeke:
Then (the Meane's best) blowne Bubbles soonest breake.

To my deere and constant friend Mr. Tho: Winter.

Thou warmst me Winter: (O strange paradox!)
With loue thou warm'st mee, which I safely Box
In my close Heart: But, is it hollow? No:
If so it bee, tis but to hold thee so.
But, were thy Nature cold as is thy name,
My Heart, with loue, should rather freeze, then flame:
But be it as it will, it hath beene seene
Full of Artes Flowres, which still make Winter greene.
For That, and for thy loue, as true as steele,
Ile Winter loue, sith (so) I Summer feele.

Of, and against, our yong Maister, Master William.

Know ye not our yong Maister William?
O! t'sa wilde youth, and neuer will be tame,
But, for his Nature, Lord! its too too kinde;
And with it still doth beare an Empralls minde.
Tush, all our Land-Lords Ladds would vooles be vound
To master William if he had his Londe.
But, the meane while. pray God zend him good luck:
For, yet good (Gelman) hee's as wilde's a Buck.
This heares Mas William, sith its spoken so;
(For what Craft is there to the Clouted Sho?)
That he may heare it: Then forth-with he puts
His hands a kinbow, and so stiffly struts
As being proud to be esteemed wilde,
And thinkes it best becomes his Fathers childe:
Mas-William yet, be wilde but for a spirt,
Least some, too tame, do cheat you to your shirt.

To honest-game some Robin Armin, That tickles the spleene like an harmeles vermin

Armine what shall I say of thee, but this,
Thou art a Foole and Knaue? Both? fie, I misse;
And wrong thee much: sith thou, in Deide art neither,
Although in Shew, thou playest both together.
Wee all (that's Kings and all) but Players are
Vpon this earthly Stage; and, should haue care
To play our Parts so properly, that wee
May, at the end, gaine an Applauditee.
But most men ouer-act, misse-act, or misse
The action which to them peculier is:
And, the more high the Part is, which they play,
The more they misse in what they Do, or Say,
So that, when off the Stage, by Death, they wend,
Men rather hisse at them, then them commend.
But (honest Robin) thou, with harmelesse mirth,
Dost please the World; and (so) enioyst the Earth
That others but possesse with care, that stings;
So, mak'st thy life more happy farre then Kings.
And so much more our loue should thee imbrace,
Sith still thou liu'st with some that dye to Grace.
And yet art honest (in despight of lets,
Which earnes more praise then forced-goodnesse gets.
So, play thy part, be honest still, with mirth;
Then, when th'art in the Tyring-house of Earth,
Thou being his Seruant whome all Kings do serue,
Maist, for thy part well playd like praise deserue:
For in that Tyring-house when either bee,
Y'are one mans men, and equall in degree.
So thou, in sport, the happiest men dost schoole
To do as thou dost; wisely play the foole.

To my worthyly beloued, for wit, spirit, learning, and honesty; M. Thomas Rant, Councellor at Law, I dedicate this my Papers-complaint.

Among the rest of those right deere to me
For Wit, and Arte, and Spirit, as quicke as quaint,
I haue made choyce, ingenious friend, of thee,
To Patronize white Papers blacke complaint.
Thou learn'd, art in the lawes; then we retaine
Thee with Loues fee, to smooth our Bill rough-hew'n:
For, thou wilt say we cause haue to complaine;
Which in our pittious Bill at large is shew'n:
The Maner, not the Matter, we may misse:
Then, looke to That, as we haue lookt to This.

[Papers Complaint, compild in ruthfull Rimes]

IN THE RIGHT WELL-DESERVED praise and honour of my deere friend, Mr. Philemon Holland Doctor of Physicke, who hath giuen Paper no cause to Complaine.

To the most noble Knightes, Sr. Charles and Sr. Richard Percies.

A line shall compasse both (though it be short)
Yee glorifie the Country, Campe, and Court.

To the worthy and most happy gentleman, Charles Walgraue Esquire.

Like Tree like Fruite; this Prouerb's verifide
In nothing more, then in you, and your Sonnes;
Better dispos'd in life can nere abide:
For, life, in fullnesse, ofte to loosnesse runnes:
But yee in all Heau'ns Blessings do abound,
in goodnesse too: which iustly is renound.

To the generous and my sincearely honored friend, Henry Ierningham Esquire.

Right generous, and truly noble Sprite,
That euer held'st the World a World too light
To weigh thy Heart from heigth of that desire
Which loue to roiall Vertues makes t'aspire:
Vpon th'unspotted Vellem of thy face
Nature hath printed Characters of Grace
So plainely, that the darkest Eye may see
The noble nature that abounds in thee.
And sith the world hath knowne thee long for such,
At this thyne Honors blaze, no Mome will gruch.

To my deere brother-in-lawes, Captaine Richard, Captaine Alexander, and Mr. Edward Croft.

You three I must shutt vp with foure strong Lines;
Who are to myne like distant in your bloud:
Y'are fitt ynough t'exploite the highest Designes;
And good ynough t'effect a Publike-good:
Y'haue Hearts, and Heads, and Hands to make your fame
Dart Beames of Splendor from your ancient NAME.

To my Worthyly much-esteemed friend, Tho. Hawkins Esquire.

Thou lou'st the Muse, then, thee she needs must loue,
Who dost conuerse with her at idle times;
Yet all thy motions do but chastely moue
Her Grace to grace thy well-composed Rimes;
Then, sith she graceth thee as thou dost hir,
These Lines shall stay thy Name while Time doth stirre.

To my dry friend Mr. I. H. Epigrammatist, for a farwell to him and his remembrance.

Thou lawdst thine Epigramms for being chaste:
No maruell: for, the dead are ne're embrac'd.
And penall tvvere to offer light abuses
Mong Doctors, Proctors, and graue Heads of Houses.

To the noble Ladies heereafter following.

Deere Ladyes if in these my looser Lines
Be ought too light for your Eyes (Starres on Earth)
Then moue those Stars from those vngratious Signes;
And fix them in the Heau'n of purer mirth:
For, in the scope of these Lines Paralels,
Such Heau'ns are found against those other Hells.

To the all-admired, for true honor, and Vertue, Dorothy, Countesse of Northumberland.

Refulgent Lustre of the weaker Sex,
Who both in Country, Court, and change of Fate,
(Which oft might, past themselues, the weaker vexe)
Hast borne thy selfe as best became thy State.
Who with much more then most precise respect
Hast led thine Honor through thy passed Dayes:
That selfe Suspition ne're did yet suspect,
But the least trip in all thine Honors wayes.
Then, O be pleasd that I, (who haue more Will
Then Pow'r by countlesse ods) may celebrate
Thine Honors praise; which Heauen and Earth doth fill;
And make the same both Time and Death out-date:
For, sith thou hast so liud, euen DEATH intends,
T'reuiue thee in all Worlds, beyond all Ends.

To the right noble, and most gracefull Lady, Alice, Countesse of Derby, my good Lady and Mistresse.

The duty, zeale and strict respect I owe
To you, great Lady-mistris; and the Vowe
I, with my Soule, haue made; that while my Pen
Hath pow'r to paint the Ornaments of men,
It neuer shall surcease to limne you foorth
As a rare IEVVELL, multiplying the Woorth
Of my deere Lord, sole Master of mine All:
But, sith I cannot paint the PRINCIPALL
According to the life, Ile onely tricke
The outward lines to make it somewhat like.
And yet I cannot: for the same are such
As are too dainty for my Cunnings touch.
Then, will I draw a Line to point at It,
Looke VVorld! tis SHEE whose ALL is exquisite.

To Honor, Wit, and Beauties Excellency; Lucy, Countesse of Bedford.

Sith HEE, whose PEN is poesies Condit-pipe,
(VVhence flovves a Deluge of cleare Helicon)
Thy NAME hath floted from confusions Gripe;
And hovvsd it in FAMES heau'nlyest CLARION:
Nay, sith Apollos most refulgent Sonnes
Haue crovvnd it vvith the brightest Beames of praise,
That maugre Enuies base Detractions,
It shall (admird) out-liue Times, Nights, and Dayes:
Hovv can my NOVGHT yeeld Ought (or good or faire)
To thy Perfections Beames, or glorious NAME?
It cannot; no, it can but That appaire,
Which Arte and Nature in their pride did frame:
If now I play the Poet, tis in this,
That I bely That which more gracefull is.

To the right noble, iuditious, and ingenious Sister of the neuer-too-much renowned Sir Philip Sidney; Mary, Countesse Dowager of Pembrooke.

Gods mee! hovv novv? vvhat Present haue vve here?
A Booke, that stood in perill of the presse:
But novv its past those pikes; and doth appeare
To keepe the lookers on, from heauinesse.
What Stuffe containes it? Fustian, perfect Spruce;
Wits Gallimalfrey, or Wit fride in Steakes.
From vvhome came it, a Gods name? from his Muse
(O do not tell) that still your fauour seekes.
And vvho is that? faith that is I. vvhat I?
I per se I. Great I, you vvould say. No:
Great I (indeed) you vvell may say; but I
Am little i, the least of all the Row.
You cannot choose but know me novv: no do?
I am the least in Yours, and Worlds esteeme;
I am the same: Madam, go to, go to,
You knovv me novv (I knovv) though strange you seeme.
Not yet? why then (great lady) I am hee
That (maugre Fate) vvas, is, and stile vvill bee

To the right noble; and my much honored Lady, the Lady Frances Egerton.

Your Name (deere Lady) serueth either Sex;
But could you serue your Knight vvith one childe Male,
(Although my Lord and Master it would vex)
I would not grieue much for't, nor yet looke pale.
Deere Lady (deere in Nature, as in Name,
VVhich dignifies thy high Birthes dignity)
I sadly pray for VVhat I prate, in game,
To fill his House vvith his Posterity
VVhome I do serue; if so thou serue him too,
Ile say thy BLOVD is Royall so to do.

To the most honored, best-beloued, and matchlesse Lady, for honor and Bounty, the Lady Harington.

Honors Transcendent; FOVNT, from vvhome doth spring
Mirrour of Noblesse, Thou, whose Bosum is
So fraught with Worth, as made the mightiest KING
Make choise of thee to breede his earthly Blisse.
Liue as thou art: for, more thou canst not bee,
For all that honors Honor, then thou art:
VVho art the very Crowne of Her Degree;
And mendst Her misse vvith one most bounteous HART.
For vvhich, it vvere most sacrilegious
To Vertues glory, if thy Vertues Raies,
Should not be still adored by the Muse,
That novv doth finde so fevv, for That, to praise:
No; though this Temple be profane (l fear.)
Yes, in true zeale, Ile reare thine Image here.

To the noble, vertuous, and honorable Lady, the Lady Elizabeth Berkley, daughter and heire to the late George, Lord Hunsdon.

Most noble Lady, for the deere respect
Thy Vertue merits; and my darling FRIEND
Doth owe, and would haue paid thee, vvith effect,
Had FATE not crossed what hee did intend:
Or FATE, or HATE or SPIGHT, or rather all
Conspir'd (he weenes) to frustrat that intent;
Which was t'haue honor'd thee with his last Small-
Great-Labour, which to thee inscribd, he sent.
But, Enuie's VERTVES Shade: thy Vertue then
(as much as in her lay) she did obscure:
But on that Cloud in liquid-gold I'le pen
Thy praise that Clowdes nor Earth shall er'e immure.
For This, and home to right thine iniury,
I thus bequeath all to Posterity.

To the most noble, and all-worthyly-commended Lady, the Lady Wroth.

A letter in your Name (deere Dame's) misplac'd
By Fortune, els, it had your Nature hitt:
The R. where now it stands, It would haue raz'd;
And, put past O, your Genius so to fitt:
For, in the Abstract, you are WORTH, (not Wroth)
By Nature, Bloud, and by your natiue Name:
And what I say of you, I say of both:
For, Man and Wife's but One: Then, one in fame
I make you both: if any odds there bee,
It is in VVroth, but not in Worths degree.

To my most deere and sincerely-beloued-worthy Pupills, the Lady Tracy, and the Lady Baskeruile, Daughters to the worthy Knight Sr. Thomas Coningesby.

Nature and Bloud hath not more strictly tide
You each to other (ladyes) then your loues
To mee (whose Parts are but my Wants to hide)
Haue tide me to you; and but Death remoues.
You are to mee, what to your selues you bee,
In goodnesse growing to abundant grace;
Now learne I of you, who were taught by mee,
To follow Vertue with a constant pace.
If Loue requires much Sault to season it
Ere, without taint, it lasts (as all do proue)
Then, since ye able were at meat to sit,
W'haue eaten Sault together, in that loue:
Then, if I could, I would, soone make yee know,
I honor yee in loue, well seasond so.

In praise of a little Mole-like Scab, that like a rude Scab, chanced to take my Fancies Soueraigne by the hand.

So pure's the Fountaine of her pretious Blood,
As if is (through the Veynes that it conuay)
Meetes ought, that (like her) is not passing good,
It thrusts it out, which in the skin doth stay.
Yet, while it stayes; a Scab, O call it not,
(Sith it is but her deere Blouds cheaper part)
Nay, call it not so much as Mole, or Spot:
But, Beauties Shadow, done by Natures Art.
Or if not so (though so it seemes to Sence)
Call it Perfections BVT; wherein she shootes
Her Angers Shafts, against the Pestelence,
To pull Infection from her by the Rootes:
Or if not so, call it Dianaes STAND,
Wherein shee stood to strike the Deere (her HAND.)

An inuocation of the water-Nymph Thames, to well-intreat this my Land-Nimph being in her power.

Thames , while thou bearst vpon thy Christ all Brest
My deerest Mistresse, let no Waue her wrong:
And let thy Banckes with Swanny-Ranckes be drest
To chaunt her praises as she glides along.
Though thou hast Queenes oft solac'd on thy Streame
Yet, were they farre lesse great then she is good:
Then, be as proud of her as all of them;
Sith goodnesse more then greatnesse fames a Flud:
Then, if Perfection euer made thee proud;
Now be thou proud: for, now it is in thee:
Yet, when rough Windes do fanne thy face too lowd,
Swell not in pride, but to her humble bee:
Sith when thou hast her, then doth Water hold
More VVorth then all the Land, though all were Gold.

The Flea.

When last (deere Mistris) I with you did Feast,
A Flea, (that with your Blood was ouer-growne,
Walking abroade, her Dinner to digest)
Did skipp to mee, to make you so mine owne.
VVhich when I had, away with her I went;
And, sith You are in her her well intreate;
Yea, with my Bloud, I giue her nourrishment:
So, with our Blouds (thus mixt) I make you Great.
Since when, I do forbeare to murder Fleas,
Least that (vnkinde) our Yong I so might spill;
And, for your sake, I let them bite, with ease,
Sith so they ioyne and multiply vs still:
And thus do Fleas, that spott mee eu'ry where,
Suck my ranck Bloud, to make Affection cleare.

The Author louing these homely meates specially, viz: Creame, Pan-cakes, Butterd pippin-Pyes (laugh good people) and Tobacco; Writ to that worthy and vertuous gentlewoman, whome he calls Mistrisse, as followeth.

If there were (O!) an Helespont of Creame
Betweene vs (milk-white Mistris) I would swim
To you, to shew to both my loue's extreame,
(Leander like) yea, dyue from Brymm, to Brymm.
But, mett I with a Butter'd Pippin-Pie
Floating vpon't; that, would I make my Boate
To whaft mee to you, without ieoberdy;
Though Sea-sick I might bee while it did floate.
Yet, if a Storme should rise, (by night or day)
Of Suger-snowes, and Haile of Care-a-wayes;
Then, if I found a Pan-cake in my way,
It (like a Plancke) should bring me to your Kayes:
Which hauing found, if they Tobacco kept,
The smoke should dry me well before I slept.

To myne euer-approued deere friend, Mris. Ioyce Iefferys.

Thyne Head and Heart, makes my Head, Hart, and Hand
To draw thee in, into this list or Band
Of those whome most I honor; sith thou art
In Head as vvitty, as most kinde in Heart:
Then, though I (breefly) thus, do end with thee,
Thyne Name (perhapps) may endlesse bee by mee.

Of my Selfe.

Lord! my poore Braines hovv busily I beate,
My Temples toile vvith chafing of my hand;
My Sleepes disturb, my Meales cutt short at meate;
My Time consume: Why? not to purchase Land,
Nor Soule to saue, nor Goods to gayne, do I
Endure this toile, but meerely for the meede
Of Fames fraile Blast, vvhich vvith my selfe must dye;
Or, after death, can stand in little steede.
When from my, Wits I dravv the Quintessence,
Subliming that too, to the highest height,
An Airy-vvord is all the recompence
That to my lott for all my paines shall light.
Perhapps some Gull (as vvitty as a Goose)
Saies vvith a coy scue-looke, its pritty pritty:
But yet, that so much Witt hee should dispose
To so small purpose, faith (saith he) its pitty.
Some foole els shootes his Bovvlt, and hath his BVT:
He hath a pritty Witt: BVT yet (saith hee)
Herein (me thinkes) he is much ouer-shutt,
And then (perhapps) he cauills vvith a T
That vvas misplacd, or, at the most, missuted.
To ordurd in his Teeth, vvhere its vvell plac'd;
Faine vvould he flout, if ought vvere to be flouted:
And all but his ovvne vvit, vvould haue disgrac'd.
But if some other, better farre affected,
Commend my Lines, and relish my conceite:
Here's the Revvard that all in all's expected;
And vvhat is this but vvinde of meere Deceit?
When Fames fate-fooles of fame haue had their fill,
They stand on Tipto, proud of praised skill;
Yet, with one stroke, Death both at once doth spill.

Againe.

The World, that sins not, is disoluable;
Creatures are locall; so, are finite all:
Finite, is temp'rall: temp'rall's, mutable:
And, mutable, is mortall: Then, vvho shall
Depend on Fame, for his eternity,
Rests but on Wind, and fraile mortality.

A Conclusion.