University of Virginia Library

The sixt weeke.

Epig. 1 Ad Richardum Houghton Militem

If that my pen were of the wing of Fame,
And Gods immortall Nectar for my inke;
Then could I canonize great Houghtons name:
Til thē my Muse speaks not what she doth think
Long shuld'st thou liue in thy gold-gilded tower
If that my Muse could keep thee stil from death:
Long bathe thy selfe in that thy blissefull bower,
If my waste paper could but lend thee breath:
Yet this my duty doe not hold in scorne;
My Muse hereafter may thy praise adorne.

Epig. 2 Ad Lectorem.

Reader, this fift last weeke in dead mens praise
I would not spend one line, because I spied,
That more then halfe the week were fasting dais,
And that thou wert already mortified:
Remember yet (kind Reader) if thou can,
Thou art no more than any mortall man.

Epig. 3 In tumulum Thomæ Houghton Armig.

Sicke sad-fac'd Sorrow mixt with maladie,
Vpon this tombe now pitch thy cole-black tent,
Heart-breaking groanes and howling miserie,
Be as Cares canons from Griefes castle sent,
Gainst Deaths pauilion all make batterie.
In Houghtons death, Death lōg before death went
Vnrest, pain, anguish, sighs, sobs, tears be coūting
Vntill some write Dianæes three dayes hunting

Epig. 4 In Gulielmum Houghton.

Faine would faire Uenus sport her in thy face,
But Mars forbids her his sterne marching place:
Then comes that heau'nly harbinger of Ioue,
And ioyns with Mars & with the queen of Loue
And thus three gods these gifts haue given thee,
Valour, wit, fauour, and ciuilitie.

Epig. 5 In Gallam.

Galla with mutton and pottage vsde to pray,
A month together saue one Venus day:
But now her purenes Lenton meate doth fast,
Three Uenus daies in one weeke found at last:
And yet she saith there are too few by three,
Galla would haue all Venus daies to be.

Epig. 6 In Sullum.

Thou hast desir'd me Sullus oft indeede,
To thy friend Mat to do thy commendations,
I would do more if that thou stoode in neede,
Amongst acquaintance these are only fashions:
Yet wish me not commend thee to thy friend,
For I know nought in thee I can commend.

Epig. 7

My Cosens life (I heare) is new out dated,
And all his pounds could not pay for two yeares,
And two rich Plutoe's, for his goods which waited
Snatcht them from me (a crosse that all men bears)
But ti's no matter, for goods gotten euil,
Pluto wil hane, or else some other deuill.

Epig. 8 In tumulum Iuelli.

Here lyeth Iuell, who knoweth not the rest,
Is worthie to be ignorant at least.

Epig. 9 In tumulum Ferdinand. Darbie.

Be not so bould to ope this dead mans dore,
Vnlesse thou come from th' aërie house of woes,
Ne dare thou once vpon this Marble pore,
Vnlesse thou poure thy sight out on these roes,
If to faire knighthood thou bearst any zeale,
Vnrest, care, griefe, sad discontent, and woe,
On these fiue bells ring thou a dolefull peale,
Volies of sighes fast after them let goe:
Rest, in vnrest, teares-spitting forge be burning,
Vntil some write The Muses nine dayes mourning.

Epig. 10 Ad Samuelem Daniel.

Daniel, thou in tragicke note excells,
As Rosamond and Cleopatra tells:
Why dost thou not in a drawne bloudy line,
Offer vp teares at Ferdinandoes shrine?
But those that e're he di'de bewitcht him then,
Belike bewitcheth now each Poets pen.

Epig. 11 Ad Io: Marston, & Ben: Iohnson.

Marston, thy Muse enharbours Horace vaine,
Then some Augustus giue thee Horace merit,
And thine embuskin'd Iohnson doth retaine
So rich a stile, and wondrous gallant spirit;
That if to praise your Muses I desired,
My Muse would muse. Such wittes must be admired

Epig. 12 In tumulum Auari.

Here lieth he who neuer aught
To man or woman gaue:
And now it grieues him that thou read'st
For nought this on his graue.

Epig. 13 Ad Gulielmum Warner.

Liue prince of Poets, thy affections guide,
Where Witte attires her selfe in Vertues sute,
Whilst Englads fame thy flowing verse doth pride
This be thy praise: Thy Albion's absolute.

Epig. 14 In tumulum Abrahami Simple.

Within this place lies Abraham the Ciuil,
Who neuer did good, who neuer did euill:
Too ill then for God, too good for the deuill.

Epig. 15 in Asinum quendum.

You know (sir Asse) how you did me annoy,
To steale away my little tale of Troy:
And asking for it, you all in a fume,
Twixt two bigge jawes did wholy it consume:
To be destroy'd Troyes fortune sure it was,
Once with an Horse, againe now with an Asse.

Epig. 16 In Rufum

Foule red nosde Rufus, fauour thou maist gaine,
If with his children thou would take some paine:
But vntill Rufus fauour fairer be,
He should not giue his fauour vnto me.

Epig. 17 In Zoilum.

Zoilus, thou laugh'st but onely when I weepe,
And when I laugh that's weeping cheer for thee,
Then weeping Zoilus I will thee keepe,
My booke and me still laughing thou shalt see:
Now quickly Zoilus take vp thy four quarters,
And like a knaue goe hang thee in thy garters.

Epig. 18 In obitum Thomæ Fisher à Io: Fishroccis.

The Fisher did the fish so dearely loue,
That stil he gaue the fish fresh wormes to eate,
O then what should the fish so nearely moue,
To giue the fisher to the wormes for meate?

Epig. 19 In Scyllam

By Lord nor Ladie Scylla will not sweare,
By God nor goddesse, nor so great a thing,
Yet she commits a greater fault I feare,
In swearing alwaies by her faire gold ring.

Epig. 20 In Cynam.

Nor you did sweare not once since you were born
Yet at each word you say you will be sworne:
A fault you get whilst you a fault would flie,
For when you sweare not, Cyna then you lie.

Epig. 21 Liber ad Authorem.

I'm likt of many, many me approue,
Some like me not, for thy sake ne me loue:
I do not care: who makes a banquet lookes
To please his guests, & not to please the Cookes.

Epig. 22. In Gulielmum Rich: Cantabr: procu.

But that I am too poore to pen thy praise,
I would presume thy glorious name to raise:
Beyond the riches of the Indian land,
Worth more then worthlesse Tagus golden sand:
But O thy vertues passe my praises pitch,
Thy learnings fame aboue thy name is rich:
How wel then Vertue sorts her with thy fame
That art both rich in Art, and Rich in Name.

Epig. 23 In obitum Ed. Spencer Poetæ prestantiss.

Colin's gone home, the glorie of his clime,
The Muses Mirrour, and the Shepheards Saint;
Spencer is ruin'd, of our latter time
The fairest ruine, Faëries foulest want:
Then his Time-ruines did our ruine show,
Which by his ruine we vntimely know:
Spencer therfore thy Ruines were cal'd in,
Too soone to sorrow least we should begin.

Epig. 24 Ad Iacobum Thornton.

Thornton well read, say not I do thee wrong,
In that I haue defer'd thy praise so long,
Thy gentleman-like parts whenas I find,
With thy graue studies, all in one combinde:
Faine would I praise thee, but I see my skill,
Is now defectiue to my great good will.

Epig. 25 In Ea: Wrightington.

If ventrous youth now in his chiefest prime,
To vertues loue be wholy thus addicted,
What doth graue old, with milke-white haires in time?
Assure vs of one vice to be afflicted?
For by and by the plant doth straight appeare,
Which afterward great-store of fruit will beare.