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The mvses-teares for the losse of their hope

heroick and nere-too-mvch praised Henry, Prince of Wales, &c. Together with times sobs for the vntimely death of his glory in that his Darling: and, lastly, his Epitaphs. Consecrated to the high and mighty Prince, Frederick the fift, Count palatine of Rhoyn. &c. Where vnto is added, Consolatory Straines to wrest Natvre from her bent in immoderate mourning; most loyally, and humbly wisht to the King and Qveenes most excellent maiesties. By Iohn Davies of Hereford

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To the sacred Queene of England her most excellent Maiesty bee all comfort after the CROSSE.



To the sacred Queene of England her most excellent Maiesty bee all comfort after the CROSSE.

Good Queene (for, greater STILE, Truth, Grace, nor Wit
Can giue to Greatnes for Mans Goodnesse fit)
Blesse with thy Raies these Lines, drawne out at length
To giue thy Mind, repose; thy Patiēce, strēgth:
Yet, come from want of wit, which iustly vaunts
None truer speakes then truest Ignorants!
You see, beneath the Circuite of the SVNNE,
All that's made best, is instantly vndone!
Are all things vaine then, in that Compasse? No:
The lightest Thing therein, is nothing so:
That's TRVTH; which stil is best; yet still vnmade:
Which GOD cannot vndo, though Fiends inuade!
Than TRVTH, so perfect, tels you by her Foole,
(Her plainest Tongues-man) you are in a Schoole
That teacheth many Lessons; good, and bad:
The bad, delight; the good, but make too sad:
Then, sith now sad you are, the last you learn'd
Was passing good, though it be ill discern'd.
You take it ill (perhaps) by so great losse,
To learne to beare a farre more heauy CROSSE
(Which Heau'n long deferre) if long you liue,
(For which I pray) then O be glad to grieue
For what you do, when you do grieue to proue
Your Soules best Physick in what least you loue.


“It's ill to be too well; ease, is disease:
And deadly too, in Parts that Death doth seize.
Then when, in any Part of vs, we ioy
More than we should, lest that might vs destroy
Heau'n takes it quickly off (as t'were by stealth)
And, by that Want supplies our want of health!
The greatest Crosse that Greatnesse then can beare
Is that of Pleasure, free'd of Griefe, and Feare.
Yet to content Desire, and feare exclude,
Is the whole Summe of Heau'ns BEATITVDE!
But, here, not so; where pleasure, as a Crime,
Ends ill, if feare preuent it not in time.
Yet Nature droopes, if pleasure, in a meane
Sustaine it not to act Lifes tedious Scæne.
Thus with, nor without pleasure, long can we
Liue as we should, so strongly weake we be!
Than gratious Queene when you reflect vpon
This light of TRVTH, it will be daie anon
With darkest PASSION, that but Reason blinds;
Then leaue your Chaunce to Fame, and Fortunes winds
While you your selfe repose (blow how they please)
In HONORS Heau'n (or'eruling SOROWES Seas!)
Wherein sits VERTVE throned, Crown'd with Stars,
Aboue black Daies, made such by Clouds of Cares.
There, Royall Lady, is their soueraigne SEATE,
That will, in al Affronts, be Good, and Great:
For, nought is Great on Earth but that Great Minde
That's moou'd with nothing great produc'd by KIND!
But, in an Heau'nly calme of Mindes repose,
Lookes least deiected when it most doth lose.
Than Mindes are Motes, vnlesse they thinke they bee
Aboue all State and Fate, in their degree.


VERTVE, as Soueraigne, roiall Minds still rules;
But FORTVNE (as a Slaue) waites most on Fooles.
This life is but a War-fare 'gainst OFFENCE;
And either fortune, breeds the DIFFERENCE,
Bee't Black, or Bright, its cleare, not cleare they are,
From equall Danger, and from equall, Care!
Soft-fortune is a Bog, or dauncing-Death,
Where soone the carelesse do ingulph their breath!
Then must the foote of sober-care go soft,
Yet swiftly ouer, to keepe Life aloft.
While high CONTENT, in what so-euer Chance,
Makes the braue Minde the Starres out-countenance!
CONTENT, doth feast our Fates, which stil is found
In Minds, by Grace, (like Heau'n) made Great, & Round:
What Waue can surge aboue high'st Prouidence
In Deluge of Distresse, or Eminence?
What Leaden-Hap can fall from aduerse Fate,
To sinke the Mind that VERTVE doth Elate?
If She then CENTER be of our Defence,
Be roundest Vengence the CIRCVMFERENCE
It skills not; sith it shall no more annoy
Than Hell the Man-god did, who there did ioy!
Than, let Fates Snuffes and Puffes, as winds of Grace, despight,
Serene the Heauen of your Maiestick Face
From frowning Clouds, condens'd by DEATHS despight,
To reaue faire VERTVES Firmament of light.
So shall you mount from West of Wo to th' East
Of GLORIES Heau'n; and (Sunn-like) light the rest!
For, such strange Members NATVRE neuer bred
As lie at ease while Thornes do Crowne their HEAD!
Entombe your Passions in HIS Passion, then,
(To be belou'd of Angells, prais'd of Men!)


And, with a roiall-smooth-erected front
Beare vp the CROSSE; and, euer looke vpon't
As on the only KEY of Heau'ns fore-gate,
That opes it maugree Enuy, Death, and Fate:
For, Fate and Death our Nature doth salute
Y'er we can breathe on Blossoms of LIFES Fruite.
Then, if wee flourish afterward, it is
A grace we merit not, but vse amisse.
We vse amisse; or (at the best) the Best
So vse it still, as all the interest
Comes from the poorenesse of their Spirits, with strife;
So, but in Grace, deserue the loue of Life!
Yet, Spirits of richest temper, are but poore;
But, in their indigence, abound with store
Of Heau'nly Treasures, which the World doth scorn
Yet they the brauest Minde do most adorne!
A braue Spirit is a Particle of HIS
That's Lord of FATE, Triumuirate of BLISSE!
And, (as a Flame) she still, by Nature, sties
Where her ORIGINALL reposed lies.
Than, sacred Maiesty, disdaine to vaile
Thy height to Nature, if shee fall to waile:
Though weeping with thy Sex doth best agree;
Yet Teares so drowne the Raies of Maiesty,
As, through those troubled streams, when they would peepe,
They, sadly, looke like Pris'ners in the deepe.
But, can a Mother, good, as great, forget,
A SONNE so deere, and not pay Natures Debt
In Liquid Pearle, disbursed by those Eyes
Where Maiesty with Loue and Vertue lies?
O! no, She cannot: but She still may minde
Her Sonne, in DEEDE; yet, put the SHEW behinde,


Where it may neuer shadow GLORIES sight,
That, in the Streames of Sorrowe, sinks her light.
Now (as a foole) foole-hardy I haue beene
T'incounter thus, the Passions of a QVEENE;
Which commonly are strong as is the state
Of those that all but them, predominate!
What is my reach herein? Is it to show
My Hand, or Heart, or what a foole may know?
To pick her Mouth of thanks; her Purse of coyne:
Or, praise (at least) from her (so charm'd) purloine.
For Note, for Coate, for Countenance, for ought
Like these; or none of these? or, else, for nought?
For none of these it is: yet, is it not
For nought; but, for Her good, I play the Sot.
To make Her (Sorrie) merry, as I could,
None other-wise than Grace, with Nature, would
Eu'n for Her selfe: wise-folly telling me
Eu'n for Her selfe, should VERTVE serued be.
Than, if that one of Gods Fooles, on his Face,
(Most wise in that) may beg, and haue the grace
Of good acceptance of this seruice; he
Will foole it, thus, for nothing, till he be
Nothing, that is not some-thing, still to serue
A Queene, whome Fates did for our weale reserue.
Whose priuat Wombe, hath beene the Fountain-head,
Whence all the Issues of our Hopes are lead.
By Graces guidance, and by Natures might,
Still to refresh the Red-rose, and the White,
For that, and for thou, sweetest Eglantine,
About the Flow'res of all our Crownes dost twine
To keepe them from quite falling, (as our owne)
By aduerse Puffs, that else might blow them downe.


We, (mixt, conioyn'd in peace and vnity)
Enshrine thee in our soules Infinitie,
Till all good soules shall meete, where they shall Rise
To Glory in secure FELICITIES.
Here, heauy Muse, stoope low thy high ascent;
And say, in deepenesse of the low'st desent:
Good Queene (as it began, your STILE defines)
Blesse, with your Beames of grace, these graclesse Lines.
FINIS.