University of Virginia Library

The fourth weeke

Epig. 1 Ad anunculum suum Henricum Butler Armig.

If From the conquest thy antiquitie
I would deriue, when William gaue thy mot,
Or boast the Butlers true gentilitie,
My praises yet augment thy praise would not.
Nay praise would be dispraise thy name to blot,
Ne will I praise; or praise thy selfe alone,
Or good deedes praise, or praises looke for none.

Epig. 2 In Daconem

The Diuel and Dacon both by chance did meete,
With congies faire either did other greete,
The Diuel would dice, but Dacon had no crowns
Dacon his soule pledg'd for a thousand pounds;
Dacon could cogge, and so the Diuell paid
His thousand pounds, a thousand more yet had:
Is cogging then I pray you such an euil?
Nay, ti's a quid dit how to cheate the Deuill.

[Sound a retrait, ye common souldiers sound]

Epi. 4 Ad Ro: Allot, & Chr. Middleton.

Quicke are your wits, sharp your conceits,
Short, and more sweete your layes:
Quicke, but no wit, sharpe, no conceit,
Short, and lesse sweete, my praise.

Epig. 5 In Thomam Oxburghe

Fame lost some feathers, yet I imp't hir plumes,
My needle naught, Fame flies, but yet she fumes,
Because she can thy praises not vpreare,
Nor with the Falcon fetch a cancelleere.
Why thus it is when Falc'ners haue no still,
And yet will shew a Falconers good wil.

Epig. 6 In Hypocritam fabrum.

I told thee Sutor Faber was a starre,
And that he shined bright aboue compare:
But since he went into the Spanish warre,
A rapier for a Bible he doth weare:
The Spanish Cut graceth his holy face,
His friend he crosses with a conge or cringe,
His wifes gowne's laid thicke with veluet lace,
Her petticorte is furr'd with costly fringe:
So falne he is, but Stars vse not to fall,
He was a Comet, and deceiu'd vs all.

Epig. 7. In Bunnam.

A shaue-beard Barber Bunna chanc'd to meete,
As she was going all along the streete;
The Barber sweares hee's glad they met so right,
She should barb him, or he barb her that night:
What was the reason of this their debate?
Or what's the cause why Barbers Bunna hate?
Bunna, she barbs too cheap, and barbs by 'th score
And whom she barbes they ne're neede barbing more.

Epig. 8. De Palmone.

Palmo, a Poet, Goldsmith, or a Glouer,
That so with gloues Nans loue thou dost retaine,
A thousand verses of a faithfull louer
Could not suffice, but thou must send a chaine:
Nan laugh's at thee, and wisheth in her heart,
The chaine were longer, and the letter short.

Epig. 9 In Eripham vetulam.

Eripha that old trot euery day
Wafts o're the water for to see a play,
And there a withered ore-worne face she shows
Beset with Rubies, and stopt full of Oos.
This water-witch a patch hath for th' rheume,
Her carkas she with Aloes doth perfume;
With muske, ciuit, olibane, myrrh, incense,
Breathing out an aromaticke redolence:
Her soulenesse makes me oft mine eies vp close,
Her sweetnes makes me wish I were all Nose.

Epig. 10 In Steronem Legislatorem.

Nor do I praise thy heart thats ill intending,
Nor yet thy mouth thats foolish and a lier,
Nor yet thine eies, thei're purblind stil offending,
Nor thy false tong, that is a burning fier,
Nor hands, for hands take oft more than their fees
Nor arms, nor legs, nor brest, nor back, nor knees
Yet Steron giue me but one weeke thy vailes,
And I will praise, thy haire, thy beard, thy nailes.

Epig. 11 In Spurium quendam scriptorem.

Apelles did so paint faire Uenus Queene,
That most supposde he had faire Venus seene,
But thy bald rimes of Uenus sauour so,
That I dare sweare thou dost all Venus know.

Epig. 12 In Hugonem.

Though praise and please doth Hugo neuer none
Yet praise and please doth Hugo euer one,
For praise and please doth Hugo himselfe alone.

Epig. 13 In D. D. Plaifer.

Was't heauenly Plato in whose mouth they say
The Bees were wont their honie combs to lay;
From whose sweet lips so sweet a sound did flow,
As neuer Orpheus made in hell below?
Mellifluous Plaifer, so men call thy name,
And why Mellifluous but for Platoes fame?
Thy heauenly Musickes notes charming so well,
Can fetch mans soule faire Euridice from hell.
Since Orpheus Harp thou hast, & Platoes Bee,
Mellifluous Plaifer, fittest name for thee.

Epig 14. Ad Mathonem.

Matho I'm told that many do thinke much,
Because I call you Piller of the Church:
Matho, you bought a Deanry at best rate,
And two church-liuings now impropriate,
And sold to Gnidus a rich Parsonage;
(For diuers causes) gaue a Vicarage:
And now hath got three liuings at one lurch:
Art thou not then a pillar of the Church?

Epig. 15 In obitum Roberti Shute Iust de Reg. Banco.

Shute did ere-while the Country foster,
No peny now, no pater noster,
O desperate Death, how could'st thou dare,
To put our Country thus to care?
Could not his Iustice set him free?
Nor yet his Law perswade with thee?
Could not his honour stay the fire,
Which was the credite of the shire?
When Death such Lawyers doth out-face,
Then punies may not pleade the case.
When Captaine once doth fall on ground,
Then Souldiers the retaite may sound:
If Peeres to ground do goe so fast.
Let pesants know they must at last.
A shoote was shot which lost the game,
And yet the Shute hath wonne the same.
The shoote was shot vp very high,
Which from the earth to heau'n did flie:
Then praise the Shooter and the Shoote,
Which chang'd the world for better boote.

Epig. 16 In Robertum Shute fil: Rob: Pre.

How faire yong Shute shootes at his fathers aime
A few such shootes, and Shute will win the game:
If Shute shoote on as now he doth begin,
With learnings arrow hee'le cliue honours pin:
He le hit the white which Shute shot at (his father)
He shootes beyond his vertues I thinke rather:
Thus shootes yong Shute, if then his father Shute
For him we chang'd, we need not ask much boot.

Epig. 17 In Rubrionem & Rullum.

Rubrio, Rullus snout-faire Septimel,
Both lou'd alike, yet could not bring about,
Their chiefe pretence, but needs they must apparell
Hir breech-torn husband. Now he walks throwout
The streetes, to tauernes goes, vnto a play,
Neuer at home saue on some feasting day:
At noone, at night, by turnes enioy you still,
Rubrio Rullus snout-faire Septimell.

Epig. 18 In Luciam.

If any maruaile why,
Luce selles her loue for gold:
Tis she may haue to buy
Her loue when she is old.

Epig. 19. In Georgium Meriton, & Georgium Mountaine.

Your entertaine (nor can I passe away)
Of Essex with farre-famed Lælia;
Nor fore the Queen your seruice on Queens day
When such a Maister with you beareth sway,
How can Queenes College euer then decay?
No. Yet Queenes College euermore hath beene
Is, and will be, of Colleges the Queene.

Epig. 20. Ad Dudlæum North.

The sparkling lust of a pretious stone,
Breedes often wonder to the looker on:
But the resplendance of this pearle is more,
If laid in gold enameld with ore:
Thy noble birth (yōg North) doth shine as bright,
As doth a Christall in the darksome night:
But learning in so faire and yong a molde,
Is like a Christall stone in burnisht golde.

Epig. 21 In Rudionem.

Yon goes a gallant which will get repute,
From head to heele in his Carnation sute,
Slops, dublet, stockings, shooes, hat, bād, & fether,
Red yard-long ribbin, see the youth coms hither,
Who lest his Dutchman hose should be vnseene
Aboue his mid-thigh he his cloake doth pin:
O that he had to his Carnation hose,
(I wish him well) a faire rich crimson nose.

Epig 22. Ad Gulielmum Shakespeare.

Honie-tong'd Shakespeare when I saw thine issue
I swore Apollo got them and none other,
Their rosie-tainted features cloth'd in tissue,
Some heauen born goddesse said to be their mother:
Rose-checkt Adonis with his amber tresses,
Faire fire-hot Uenus charming him to loue her,
Chaste Lucretia virgine-like her dresses,
Prowd lust-stung Tarquine seeking still to proue her:
Romea Richard; more whose names I know not,
Their sugred tongues, and power attractiue beuty
Say they are Saints althogh that Sts they shew not
For thousands vowes to them subiectiue dutie:
They burn in loue thy childrē Shakespear het thē,
Go, wo thy Muse more Nymphish brood beget them.

Epig. 23 In Ed: Allen.

Rome had her Roscius and her Theater,
Her Terence, Plautus, Ennius and Meander,
The first to Allen, Phœbus did transfer
The next, Thames Swans receiu'd fore he coulde land her,
Of both more worthy we by Phœbus doome,
Then t' Allen Roscius yeeld, to London Rome.