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University of Virginia Library

Occasions Off-spring

Or Poems upon Severall Occasions: By Mathew Stevenson

Stevenson, Matthew (fl. 1654-1685)

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To the Author my very loving Cos. Mr. M. Stevenson.

To the inimitable Poet, My honourd friend, The AUTHOR.

To my Ingenious friend, the AUTHOR

To my most esteemed friend, The AUTHOR.

To his very good friend The AUTHOR.

In Honorem Authoris.

A young Gentleman to his Lady, who lookt upon him as too immature.

An Answer to the Song call'd faire Archybella to whose eyes. &c.

The Answer to Well-well tis true, &c.

The Virgin Canticle to Gerrard.

To my Coy and Captious Mistress.

A longing Lady to her long-staying Lover.

A forsaken Lady to her Apostate.

A mock song to O stay by mee—

A Gentleman to his Mistress that told him he lookt asquint upon her.

To my lillie white Leda in Commendation of a pale face.

The Postscript,

Militat omnis amans, & habet sua Castra Cupîdo.

To my honoured friend.

To William Kemp.

A Gentleman surprized with the sight of a Lady unknowne to him, betroathed to another.

To my Cozen Coy.

To my pale Pippin

Mrs. E. G. To hir false and faithlesse servant.

To the faire Mrs E. R.

Da dextram miseræ & tecum me tolle per vndas.

Miserum me fuisse fælicem!

A. B. To an Irish Gentlewoman that slighted him.

To my noble Cosen Mr. R. C. coming in mourning to be merry with his friends.

A gratus ades To my highly honoured cozen Mr B. C. Comming to Norwich.

To the worshipfull A. D. his Majesties Physitian Crossing the Seas.

To the City of CRACOVIA.

To ------ upon his giving mee a Library.

To a Gentlewoman, that refused. A very rich Suitor, because he was not very handsome.

To a faire Lady.

To my Mistresse.

The joviall Journey.

Vpon a Porter Catching a Gentlewoman as shee past by him.

At a Tapsters wedding.

In prayse of winter.

Upon Yorkshire Ale.

To my right well reckon'd host at the Lamb.

The Postscript.

Upon a hungry gutted Porter.

E. B. To his noble friend, that gave him a new paire of Boots, and Gloves.

A. B. to his shoemaker.

Vpon his giveing a payre of shoes to get the former paper answered.

Alice Goffe. A poore woman taken stealing soape.

To my Noble Friend.

To the same Gentleman desiring my verses upon any price and on his sending mee a new Suit.

To a Schoole master. In excuse of his Scholler G. Green.

To my valued friend: A New-years gift.

O. P. to A. C. that oversold him a Horse repay him at the day of his marriage, he being contracted and to marry with in ten dayes: O. P. not dreaming of any such matter.

Upon the name of the same horse being called Butler.

Pseudo Poeta in a paper of false verses inveying against Tantalia for her lyeing tales.

Upon ------ his Picture Prefixt to his Almanack.

To Mr. ------ upon his silly Epitaph in print.

On the Gun-powder treason.

To the right honourable the C. of DORSET, Promising a Gentleman her Kinswoman in marriage.

The weavers Memento mori.

To a drunken Porter reeling into the Ring to wrastle with a Taylor.

To a Brewer that promised mee a Staggs Tongue, and dissapointed me.

To this Brewer sending mee halfe a dozen tongues.

To a Gentleman that promised, but failed, to meet mee at an Ale-drapers.

To an other Gentleman, that served me such a trick.

To a Philomuse from whom I received a Paper upon the same Subject and by the same Post.

At the Florists Feast in Norwich

Upon his second time being dead drunk.

On goodwife Plaine.

On W. G. A great swearer but litle lyar

In memoriam Roberti Dey Pharmacap. Norv.

To the perpetuall memory of my ever honoured Cozen Mr. E. H.

A Legacie to VRBANIA an unworthy Cittie.

In Honorem Poetarum.

Upon the Sickness, and recovery of a faire and fairely promised LADY.

To a Gentleman desiring mee to write a Paper of Verses upon his sitting whilst the Painter was drawing his Picture.

To an impudent Scold that perpetually haunts her Husband, and not only abuseth him but whatsoever Company is with him.

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To my Ingenious friend, the AUTHOR

And must I adde my mite Deare Stevenson,
I know thou wilt accept it, well? tis done.
Faith I can't tell while I thy lines read ore
Whether I love thee! Or admire the more.

Thy books not fraught with tales of Robin hood,
But lofty fancy, By the Lord tis good:
Thy sweet-lippt Muse most ample test doth give,
Of high events, and I say let her Live.

N. B.