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previous section Phyala Lachrymarum: Or A Few Friendly Teares, shed over the dead Body of Mr Nathaniel Weld Mr of Arts of Emanuel Colledge in Cambridge
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Flote meos casus.

How can I choose but dolefully complaine
Unto each gentle eare, and tender minde
The sorrie accident, that doth constraine
My heart to scald with sighs of strangled wind,
And eyes to drown in their own dreery drain?
Who sees a field, sowne with all sorts of graine,
Some newly springing up, some spindled new,
Some goodly blooming, others in the wane,
Hanging their tydie eares of yellow hewe
Downe to the earth, (from whence at first they grew)
Then sees belive a thriftlesse husbandman
Passe by the aged croppe (which cumbers ground
And hinders that no other prosper can)
While with his corbed sickle hee reapes downe
The fresh young stalkes whose joynts with sap abound;
Such one (comparing this sad uncouth sight)
The root of my complaint, may reade aright.
Tu quibus ista leges incertum est Lector ocellis,
Ipse equidem siccis scribere non potui.

ELEGIA INTRODUCTORIA in Lachrymas sequentes.

Scarce is (amongst a thousand dayes) one day
So fortunate and luckie every way,
But that in compasse of those twice twelve howres,
Some one or other lucklesse chance devours:
Or some of all from all in generall,
Or all at once, from some in speciall;
And every state one thing or other meet
That mingles gall, and aloes with their sweet:
Each where I heare complaint, and most lament
On every side of losse and detriment;
Husbands the wives, the wives their husbands losse,
Parents their child, children their parents crosse;
Brothers for sisters death are discontent,
Sisters for brothers; these do those lament;
Merchants their ships, shepheards do lose their sheep,
Some waile the losse of what they cannot keepe.
I none of these, but I have lost a friend;
Time may all else, but not this losse amend:
Which losse whoever suffer, understand
What 'tis to be depriv'd of their right hand,
To have a legge cut off, an eye put out,
And live a creeple, to be led about;
A maimed-uselesse man, at once bereft
Of outward strength, and inward joy; so left
A wandring Pilgrim in a land unknown,
Injur'd of all, because belov'd of none:
This leglesse, eyelesse, handlesse man am I,
All these I lost, when he from mee did die.
All yee that chance, (if any chance) to reed
These sorry lines of mine; if yee indeed

Of such like friend be sped, as I him vant
(In this selfe-loving Age, (ah) very scant)
Their patronage and mine I you commend,
For yee can truly value such a friend.
Your tender gentle hearts can entertaine
A quicke impression of anothers paine,
And nimbly can (at halfe a word) resent
The weight and burden of their discontent:
And passionate your soft compassion is,
And tender unto all that is amisse.
For love of that, which is to you most leefe
Come all yee (as my seconds) to my griefe;
Lend mee your teares, and sighs to furnish out
The wofull worke which I am now about.
And if such chance you ever doe mischance,
(As God defend it should) in sovenance
And faire requitall of your love, Ile pay
You teares for teares, and sighs for your sighs; nay,
(Unwilling, barely to repay your owne)
Ile pay you interest of ten for one:
And (till my briny braine be drayned dry)
Will side with you, and mourne incessantly:
(Ab) for your griefe will bring to memorie
Mine owne unhappy griefe, and keepe my wound
Still bleeding fresh, whilst ev'ry seeming sound,
And each like word, (that even but relates
And to his name alludes) insinuates,
And will my heart with newes thereof informe,
Still raising in my bosome a new storme;
So shall your mone my mournfull mone augment,
For full of harmony, a sweet consent
Of sorrow is with sorrow, teares with teares,
And griefe in parts the musicke higher reares;
But now from you my conference must breake
Whilst all my other mourners I do thus bespeake.
1

PHYALA LACRHYMARUM.

Ye Lady Graces, and yee Muses nine,
And all ye vertues Morall and Divine,
Ye Sciences, and most renowned Arts,
And, all yee sons of Art, come weepe in parts;
And each good man who goodnesse doth admire,
And all (save ye of the Celestiall Quire,
Yee Angels, and ye blessed Saints, possest
Alreadie in Heaven of your happy rest,
For by our losse and sorrow all yee reape
A gainfull harvest, and for joy do leape,)
All clad in sable weeds, with Heben wands,
And Cypresse branches in your friendly hands,
Disshevel'd haire about your shoulders throwne,
With all the sorry signes of hearty mone,
With panting breasts, with sighing well nigh rent,
With carefull lookes, and eyes oft upward sent,
With 'haviour speaking nothing, save neglect
Of all, but what on sorrow doth reflect.
2

Come sit with mee, and helpe mee to condole
The sad departure of the blessed soule
From the dead corps, of this deare friend of ours,
And with your teares (as with so many showers)
Embalme it over all, and strew his herse
With the sweet fragrant odours of your verse:
Sith (like a body that hath lost a limbe)
Each of you all do suffer losse in him.
Yea, with so lowd alewes and drerement
Let be your plaints, and over him lament,
That future Ages, in your griefe, likewise,
For losse of him with you may sympathize,
And cause an Annuall Obit to be held
In his remembrance, whom they nee'r beheld.
But that you may no Ceremonies fit
In your last dutie unto him, omit,
Ere yee upon him locke his Coffin doore,
And in a bath of your salt teares all o're,
And dewe of Roses (steep'd in Amber grize)
Having first drencht him, much (as may suffice)
Bring some of those Arabian merchandise,
Sweete Aromatick Gummes, and pretious spice,
Pure Frankincense, and pounded Cynamom
Nutmegs, with Cloves, and Mace, and Saffron some,
Add Storax-Calamite, and Bengewine,
And pretious Spicknard unto these conjoyne,
Aloes, with Myrrhe, and Cassia-Fistula,
The fragrant fuell, and the spicie spray
Whereof that bird (of selfe dusts, selfe worme) bred
Doth build her neast to serve for her death-bed,
Which flaming round about her, she sits downe,
And with sweet martyrdome her selfe doth crowne.
In stead of others more, with these same few
Thicke over all his pale dead corps bestrew;
But (chiefe and principall of all the rest)
These three bestrew, the Head, the Mouth, the Breast;
3

Sith in these three (his Breast, his Mouth, his Head)
Many sweet Notions fostred were and bred;
And Meditations sweet, (well styl'd indeed
The fodder of the soule) did hence proceed;
And many sweet discourses (sweetly made)
And pray'rs so sweet, that God selfe could perswade.
Ne, onely thus these pretious perfumes serve,
His corps from putrefaction to preserve,
But signifie how sweet and fragrant is,
How gratefull and accept this sacrifice
Of soule and body, which (in life and death)
Hee offred hath to God, and witnesseth
The good report and praise (like savory sent
Of sweet delicious Nard) of's life well spent,
Which here he to the world behind him leaves;
So double guerdon he both here and there receives.
This done, him in his Coffin sweetly lay;
Yet (ere yee to his Beare do him convey)
Weave him a Chaplet, all of flowers sweet,
For flowers and garlands been for virgins meet.
Now come with flowers, not flowers by them worne
Who losse of love do suffer (all forlorne:)
Bring here therefore no caytive Columbines,
Flowers of ill omen, and unhappy signes;
No gaudie Tulips here admitted be,
(Emblemes of false (faire-fained) sanctitie,)
Whose worth all outward is in shew alone,
But inward sent hath not, ne vertue none,
For thy' true flowers I do not them areed,
But (at the best) a glorious kinde of weed:
As worthlesse simples, numbred amongst them
Gay Dazies of the field, which wee contemne.
Instead of these, bring store of fragrant flowers,
By faithfull friends, and pious paramours
In honour greatly held; whose savorie sent
Of mingled sweets doe shew the sweet content
4

Who ere so happy be thereof to taste,
Of two true hearts in love united fast.
For well his tongue and 'haviour could indeed
Of faithfull love a learned lecture read,
And well him love became, who loyall was
Unto his love; (unhappie love) alas,
Which when both hearts, and hands, and friends consent
Had all clapt hands with infinite content,
And all things ready to enjoying, had
(Save publication) death the Banes forbad:
Worthy for this were death to be contrould,
For certes too too blame was death, and bold,
So hopefull crop of love, (like full ripe wheate)
To blast, and smite, which ready was to reape.
Bring bashfull Pinkes in which is to discry
Sweet Embleme of faire-maiden-modestie;
Which (though of flowers least almost) the field
For sweetnesse, to the greatest need not yeeld.
Then Gilliflowers, and sparkling Sops in wine,
With Rosemary and senting Eglantine,
Whose leaves (with prickles fenc'd) teach sweetest gains
Is that, that's conquer'd with the hardest paines.
Next Hyacynths, and black-fac'd Violets,
In which (me seems) the God of Nature sets
The world to schoole, not ever to esteeme
Ought at first sight, as it doth outward seeme;
But on the hidden vertue to reflect,
For th'inward good, meane outsides to respect;
Sith, though this flowre be blacke, of stature low,
A hanging-guilty looke, that makes no show;
Yet amongst all, scarce one may parallel
Her savory sent, and sweet delightfull smell.
Bring Hearts-ease store, Oh flower most blest of all,
Which all they weare, whom nothing can befall
Beyond their expectation, ill ne ought
So good, as to excesse, to tempt their thought.
5

Of prettie Panses plentie let be brought,
For this flowers name doth signifie a thought;
And therefore chiefly unto such belongs
Who dare not trust their love unto their tongues:
But in a Labyrinth of thoughts doe walke,
And to themselves in pleasing silence talke;
Unthinking still what ever they first thought,
So nought by them is into practice brought.
Bring Medway, Cowslips, and deft Daffodillies,
The country Primrose, and all sorts of Lillies,
And Floure-de-Luce, (Le fleur de lice, more right)
Deliciæ flos, the flower of delight.
Then usher in th'obsequious Marigold;
Whose riddle who so wise is to unfold,
Why the Suns course it daily follows so
That as that to the South or West doth goe.
So broad or narrow this doth shut or ope,
And hight for thy' the faithfull Heliotrope?
Then with Rose-buds (if Rosebuds may be found)
It tissue thicke, and traile it all around.
And last, a traile of winding Ivie let
Run all along, on either side beset
With sprigs of Daphnis, stain'd with drops of gold,
And Olive leaves that still with peace doth hold;
In signe that hee with conquest dy'd in peace,
And doth the number of the Saints increase
In eviternall peace, free from annoy
Of all this worlds fond cares, which wont destroy
All true content, and racks mens hearts in twaine,
And makes them old before their time, to gaine
Some one or other worldly good, which hence
They must not with them beare; and this torments
Their very soules, and makes that grudgingly
With great reluctance hopelesse many die.
6

So nor in life nor death with peace are blest.
But to returne whence I too farre digrest.
Now on his Hersea counterpoint be cast,
And on this counterpoint, this Garland plac't,
In token of th'integritie and truth
And single Cælibat of his chast youth:
For single life, right soberly maintain'd,
And kept from being vitiously profan'd,
Gaines thanks of God and man, and with renowne
And happy praise, both life and death doth crowne.
Now forward set, in order, two and two,
And to the Temple doe before him goe,
Some with long Rosemary-branches in your hands,
Dangling with blacke, and ashie-pale Ribbands;
And some againe with both your handfulls come
Of sav'ry Dyll, and senting Marjorum;
And that Thessalian herbe, whence busie bees
Suck hunny, and with waxe doe load their knees:
And all the way with slips of wormwood dresse
In signe of this dayes bitter heavinesse.
Clean-purging Isop bring, and Germander,
With Cotton, and her sister Lavander;
Bring Balme, that quickly heales any green wound;
And sage, that all the vitall parts keeps sound;
And Camomel, (how ever meane and base)
The Embleme of true constancie and grace;
That doth against all scornfull feet oppose,
And much more sweet, for thy', and thicker growes.
And Sallet-budded Broom, wholsome and good
To purge, and eeke, the waterish-wasted blood.
Bring Strawberry, Primrose, Plantan leaves, Toutsain,
And all what ever Simples, soveraigne
For mans reliefe, (for in, or outward cure)
Bring some of all, leave none behinde, be sure:
Bring Saint Johns Wort, whose vertuous oyle may dare
(For skill in healing) with selfe Balme compare.)
7

And Lungwort (soveraigne above all the rest)
To ease the straitned bellowes of the brest;
And all the worts that ere yee reckon can,
For they are all wel-willers unto man.
And let not herbe of Grace forgotten bee,
Which (as 'tis such) with him doth well agree:
For, full was hee of grace: and (as 'tis Rewe)
It us befits, our rewfull hearts to shew.
Yea, Rushes bring, (which strewed wont to been
To welcome friendly strangers seldome seene.)
But bring no hearbs (I charge) of evill fame,
That banefull ever to mans life became,
To let in death, ere their appointed howre,
By their cold juice, and inward deadly power.
Therefore (I you areed) no sleepie slip
Of Poppie 'mongst your other hearbs let slip;
No Coloquintida, ne no Henbane,
Nor Hemlocke, that intoxicates the braine;
Nor Fennell-finkle, bring for flattery,
Begot of lies and fained courtesie.
But above all, as yee love him, this day
Whose funerall yee doon attend, I pray
Bring not the leaves of that sowre Indian fume,
(The common Mountebanke) which, not the rheum,
But all diseases else, to cure dare vaunt,
(At least prevent) which in our bodies haunt:
Which taints the breath, and (worse than any goat)
Doth make it stinke, whereon men so do doate,
That Morning, Noone, and Night, they wont it take,
And their continuall deere companion make.
So like that poysonous Arrian Heresie,
It all the world hath over-run well nigh;
For now all matters ended, or begun,
Must through this smoakie purgatory runne.
And all what ere wee eate and drinke is choak'd
Yea, sacred meat and drinke therewith are smoak'd.
8

With that pragmatick-crotched-pated Fryer,
Who Niter first devis'd to set on fire,
And to discharge it from that fatall gin,
To'th bane of men, to thunder neere of kin;
May he of all posteritie be curst
Who brought this weed in daily practice first:
Ah, for 'twas this unsavory fulsome weed,
That traiterously conspir'd his death indeed;
Provoking him to cough, which broke a veine
Within his lungs, first causer of his bane.
All wee for thy', who now bewitched are
With this deceitfull drugge, in time beware.
 

Bertholdus Swart, a German borne, by Profession a Franciscan Fryer, a great Alchimist, first inventer of the Gun and Gun pouder; this invention hee taught to the Venetians about the yeare 1330, who therewith gave the Genowayes a notable overthrow.

Now all ye mourners who the honour have
To beare him on your shoulders to his grave,
Take up your load, and weeping all the way,
Unto his shadie chamber him convey:
The mother earth is readie to receive
Her welcome child; there in her armes him leave.
Thus finisht is midway my dolefull song,
Which ere I any further doe prolong,
My selfe I doe apply, and turne my speech
To whom it most concernes, and them beseech
For his deere sake, whose memory is deere
As was his life, and love to mee too, here
In Jet or Touch these sorry lines ingraffe
Too much though (true is) for an Epitaph.
Here Weld hath left his body in this Tombe
In pawne, till hee againe from Heaven come,
Whither hee's gone on pilgrimage before
The happy Saints to visit, and adore
9

His blessed Lord and Saviour till Doomes-day,
Where hee to wait on him, intends to stand.
Then underneath his Monument, write this
(Though of farre better hee most worthy is)
In plates of shining Brasse, of purpose made,
And in black Marble, on his Grave inlaid.
Here lyes the Mould, the Coffin and the Shell
That doth the Shell, the Mould, and Coffin hold,
Where late our deare friends blessed soule did dwell;
Now Heaven is to this blessed soule the Mould,
The Coffin, and the Shell become, untill
The generall Assises of the world, when all
Soules their owne Moulds and Coffins shall fulfill,
And to their old Shels, every Kernell fall.
In hopefull expectation of which day
Our worthy Weld, whom wee so justy mourne,
Leaves here his Gage, that he'll no longer stay,
Than he must needs, but suddenly returne.
True signe, that of his word hee will be just,
Thus in his absence, to leave us the care
Of his deere dust, as his Feoffees in trust;
O Grave (for his sake) sacred, he well ware
No violence be done unto his dust,
But kept inviolate untill he come,
Till then, religious Ashes rest in peace
(More than Mausolus in his glorious Tombe)
Till the renewing of your lives old lease.
And, as a poore Appendix to his Tombe,
Writ so, as to be read, vouchsafe a roome
To this my secret plaint, and private mone,
Conceiv'd in silence to my selfe alone,
When at his grave I did recall to minde
The fickle-fraile condition of mankind.
10

Ah for my friend, who wish'd and lov'd mee well,
I him as well; I (living) saw him dead,
who mote have liv'd, t'have bidden mee farewell,
And seene mee gasp my last, on my death-bed.
But so't pleased him (who each mans vitall thread
Spins as him list) his thread of life to break;
And mine hath spar'd, and longer lengthened;
(The longer though, so much more still the weake:)
Ah the weake webbe of mans fraile flesh, how soone
(That long was weaving) is't againe undone?
But if of all thy friends there be not one
Some little monument of carved stone,
That will thee raise, thy name whereon to write,
And none to thee this duty will acquite:
Yet I shall joy that I have thought it fit,
And that I thus to them have mention'd it:
And were thy friend, thy sound-whole-hearted friend,
As thy good nature, wont him oft commend,
In heart (as once hee was) and may againe,
If God to his indeavours say Amen,
This charge by him, should be for thee defraid,
For in small cost much love may be bewrayd.
And if prayers lawfull were to any Saint,
And Saints our prayers could heare, and God acquaint
With what we want, and in necessitie
We mote (poore men) relieved be thereby:
Thou should'st my Saint of Intercession be,
And (my deare Nat) I'de onely pray to thee:
For thou amongst the Saints a Saint dost dwell,
And reap'st the fruit there, of here living well;
Where hope and faith both being at an end,
Nought thou (save charitie) hast to intend:
And Gloria Patri, and Te Deum sing,
And quous que Domine, ceasest thou to bring
The world to question, and the hard constraints,
And sufferance to avenge of thy deare Saints?
11

Thus thou in prayers, and praises mixt among
Dost spend, or rather dost thy time prolong.
But now (thou Muse) of all the mournfullest,
Who at a sad and dolefull tale art best:
And (thou Calliope) whose powerfull Muse
Can minister, and goodly well infuse
Meete matter, and fit words to any one
For fancie and conceit to workeupon,
For vertues sake, assist mee to bewray
(Sith well I meane) what I have here to say;
And as my Midwives, helpe me forth to throw
The Infants of my braine wherewith I goe;
And teach their new-borne tongues (however weake)
Of this your darling worthily to speake.
Wherein if they so fairly them acquite,
To say but somewhat that may doe him right,
'Twill welcome prove; their very naming him
Will grace, and adde enough to their esteeme;
For never man more worthy is than hee
To be remembred both of you and mee.
Rarely was ever seen (bee't not envi'd,)
Such a combination, and so full a tyde
(In such an under-age) of all true worth,
Where nature and Grace consented to set forth
A modell to the world of what they can,
When they intend to frame some speciall man,
For every purpose and intention fit;
A most acuminous, quick-pregnant wit;
A cleare fine fancie, and a quaint conceit,
Active, and nimble, and yet full of weight;
A piercing present strong capacitie;
A spacious, vast, tenacious memorie;
A minde compos'd of art and industrie;
A heart affecting (unaffectedly)
To make pure profit of all good mens good;
And each vainefull of piety as blood.
12

I say unaffectedly, sith what need hee
(Whom Nature hath enabled to bee
What ere him pleas'd) affect the speech, the tone,
The phrase, gest, or garb of els any one?
Here Art, Learning, Knowledge, Wisedome, Judgement,
(Above his age) and strange Intendement,
With learning, and the Learned tongues as well
He furnisht was; the kernell as the shell,
Excellent in some, scarce yeelding to the best,
Well seen, and rationall in all the rest:
Yea, (what himselfe would not) I dare him vant,
In no scientiall knowledge ignorant.
In so small time, how deeply wert thou read?
And how farre travelled and traversed
In the bookes of God and Nature (fit to teach
Both learned and unlearned out of each?)
Loyall, and full of faith and faithfulnesse
To God and man, in all hee did professe,
Here Bountie and all courteous Amenage,
Of Generositie the true presage,
As farre from surquedrous-proud-selfe-conceit,
Which all great wits doth commonly await,
As his religion and his faith was free
From spot or taint of unsound heresie.
Here that Sal Gemmæ (as wee may it call)
Discretion; which doth kindly season all;
A breast full fraught with cleere integritie,
And all set off with sweet Humilitie,
A winning vertue, and a speciall grace,
To usher in a man before Gods face,
Than which no vertue shines but halfe so bright,
And without which the weightiest gold is light.
This added lustre and imbellishment
To all his other worth where ere hee went:
So that as hee by vertue gain'd respect,
Vertue by him regain'd the like effect:
13

Each of them honour'd by each others worth,
As pearle in gold, both sets, and is set forth:
Yea, all that man to God and man indeares,
Were met together in these tender yeeres.
Scarce the sixt yeare of's manhood he attain'd,
When he this masse of vertuous treasures gain'd,
Where, had hee but gone on as hee began,
And doubled his few yeares, Lord, what a man,
And to what excellence would he have growne,
To the worlds wonder, and emulation.
Much have I heard of thy rich Mines, Perue,
Thy Rubies, Diamonds, and Saphyrs blew,
And of that Island-rivers pretious shells
Where orient pearle of namelesse value dwells:
But in one Mine, one Shell, one Rocke or Shore,
Some of all these were never found before.
Gardens and orchards infinite there are,
With all sorts of fruits, and flowers rare:
But all at once growne on one stalke and tree,
I never saw till now (deere Nat) in thee.
Ah my deere Lord, pardon this fault of mine,
If not censidering well this deed of thine,
I too too foolish fondly have repin'd,
And in the heate of griefe have spoke my minde
Thus sawcely. Farre better a great deale
Ne're to the world this jewell to reveale,
Than showne a while to put it up againe
I'th case, unseene for ever to remaine.
But 'twas thy will, and thus I answer must,
My discontent, sith certes 'tis but just,
That hee who makes the jewell may dispose
Thereof at pleasure, lest it else mote lose,
In this unbeveld age, when 'tis so hard
For vertue-selfe from taint her selfe to guard,
Any those Diamonds and Pearls of Grace,
Which round about his Gemme he did enchase.
14

Unfained friend, Oh how unfainedly
Do I lament, when I say thou didst die?
Why mote not I (whose life is of no use)
Thy too too hastie death by death excuse?
The Sunne to set at night is naturall;
But if at noone to set it should befall,
It would the world with wonder deep dismay;
But should it set in'th nonage of the day,
The course of nature (all sorts would crye out)
Confounded is, and quite turn'd round about.
And is't not thus, the very same in men,
When we see fouresocore, fiftie, threescore yeares and ten
Climbe back (as 'twere) the westerne hill againe,
As if the South point of their life to gaine:
Whilst younglings (such as this dayes sample shew'th)
Set in their graves in 'th morning of their youth?
A needfull caution to the younger frie,
Sith life it selfe is but uncertaintie:
And death no time prescribes, or can it stay,
But it will come at all how'rs of the day;
That every one, they stand upon their guard,
Remembring ever that death never spar'd
Youth for youths sake:
But (for the practice of his bow) will slay
All sorts of game that comes within his way,
Be't Stagge, Buck, Hynd, Doe, Herse, Calfe, or Phone,
All's one to him, and he to all is one;
Whether it out of season be or in,
Impartially, he reaketh not a pin.
Ah, when I heard them sorrowfully say,
That thou wert dead, the very like dismay
In every face I did observe (mee thought)
As when in Pharo's Land sad newes was brought,
That in one instant time, and casually,
One was found slaine in every familie:
So much unhappy tydings one nights scope
Can bring to light, to strangle all our hope.
15

Sith when to day with joy I heard them tell
The worst is past, and hope thou shouldst doe well,
The morrow next (by breake of day) I heare
The Passing-bell invite thee to thy Beare,
And to prepare thy selfe for going hence,
Which message, though with Christian confidence,
Through strength of highest hope, and faith-unfain,
Didst readily, and joyfull entertain:
So (like a full ripe nutt slipt from the shell)
Thou slip'st away, and bad'st us all farewell.
But well without thee (Ah!) how can wee fare?
With whose sweete company we wont repare
Our former losse of time, which wee mispent
In idlenesse, or things impertinent.
Oh my deere Weld, whose conversation was
So lovely unto mee, could sighs (alas)
And true-shed teares (the characters of griefe)
Unto thy sicknesse added have reliefe;
Had it in power of learned Leach-craft ly'n,
Or in the miracle of Medicine;
A noble Art (no doubt) which can againe
New twist the thred of life nigh crackt in twaine:
Could devout pray'rs of friends have thee repriv'd
From death, and made thee to be longer liv'd,
Thou shouldst not now thy Friends and Parents backs
Have cloath'd all over thus, in mourning blacks:
Ne all their heavie hearts shouldst now have clad
In sable mantle of thoughts dark and sad:
Ne should my Muse have on thy heavie Herse,
(O heavie Herse,) attend in sable Verse:
Ne yet the eyes of my ink-stained quill
On my white-cheekt leaves these blacke teares distill.
How lovely wert thou (living) unto all?
All, for thou wert not sullen-cynicall,
Nor of a supercilious-haughtie eye,
But affable, and full of courtesie,
16

Well pleas'd with mirth, and harmlesse merriment,
Which (but injuriously) can ne're be shent.
How did all hugge thee, and embrace, for thy'
Thy (hardly-sampled) selfe, and company?
How joy'd all at thy comming? and in heart
How sad, and sorrowfull at thy depart?
Yea, and (now dead) how doth each thing retaine
Like love to thee, and of thee beene as faine?
When (weary) thou thy death-bed didst forsake,
How readie was thy winding-sheet to take
Thee in her milke-white armes (not satisfi'd)
Till wholly to her selfe she did thee hide.
And next thy coffin (being very proud
At'th second hand, t'injoy thee in thy shrowd)
For love of thee the sheete where thou dost dwell,
Doth hugge and kisse, much like the loving shell,
That for the almons sake the tender skin
Encloseth round, where th'almond lyeth in.
And then the Earth which (living) lov'd thee so,
To kisse thy feet where ever thou didst goe,
With no lesse love doth now embrace thy chest,
Within her owne deere bosome long to rest,
Till thou (whom shee seemes so in love withall)
In thine owne dust, into her armes dost fall.
Last, when thy soule of thee did take her leave,
An Angell readily did it receive,
And in his winged armes did it convey
Nimbly to Heaven, and still all the way
With sacred kisses courted it, and sang
To it a Requiem sweet, whereat it sprang
In's Armes for joy; (no doubt) for very joy
That it should now so suddenly enjoy
The blessed vision of her Lord who dy'd
Ingloriously, her glory to provide.
How can I then, but (living) thee admire,
Whom ('live and dead) both Heaven and Earth desire?
17

Farewell (deerfriend) too soone ripe, long to last:
Happie young man, who so long journey hast
In so small time dispatcht: such hap as this
The first heires of the first world long did misse,
And staid sometimes a thousand yeares well nigh,
Ere they (as thou) su'd out their Livery.
Happy young man; and fortunately blest,
In all; and amongst all not blessed least
In thy Mecœnas (that thrice-noble Lord)
Who count'nance to thy learning did afford;
Ne onely did thee hold in great regard,
But thee with bounteous hand did oft reward,
And grac'd thy person for thy vertues sake.
Mote learning-selfe, and learned men him make
Full great requitall (gentle Lord) for this;
And make his fame the golden Starres to kisse:
And by the power of their mightie Muse,
The praises eccho lowd, of the Great Bruce,
And honour him, who in so deere account
Holds the true sonnes of the Syonian Mount:
Him leaving, henceforth standing brave enrowl'd
Amongst the Ancient Roman Peeres of old,
(Mecœnas, Varus, Pollio, Patrons all;)
Whose show'rs of bountie downe did daily fall,
On merit and true worth; and men of Art
Cherisht, and by their goodnesse kept in heart.
Forsooth the Lord, whom I so truly vant,
All noble vertues in his bosome hant,
And as himselfe indeed right learned is,
Which (Ah great pittie) most great men doe misse,
So hath hee als' a bounteous heart, to prize
And tender vertue, and good qualities
In all, in whomsoever they appeare,
(The very essence of a noble Peere.)
Pardon (great Lord) this poore Parenthesis,
Which but the skirt of thy just praise doth kisse,
18

And which (by way of humble thankes) I send
In name of my (late living) now dead friend;
Who (living) honour'd thee, and spake all good
Of thee and thine, and thy rare bountihood;
That in his sicknesse didst so oft addresse
Thy messengers and golden messages;
Yea, and in person daign'st to visit him,
Where in he read to him thy great esteeme,
That (had not mortall beene his maladie)
It much had made to his recoverie.
The joy, and heartie comfort he conceiv'd
Of'th gracious words and deeds from thee receiv'd;
God recompence this love to thee and thine
Tenfold, which thou to that deere friend of mine,
Whilst I returne againe to make an end
Of this course webbe, which I did him intend,
Which, ere I fully finish, take by the way
(Deere Nat) this little what I have to say.
Unmanly 'tis I know, for men alive
With Soule-divorced bodies once to strive;
Yet (well as once I lov'd thee) I must have
A Contestation with thee in thy Grave.
Wee see by proofe 'tis usuall in our Land
For Traders, having got into their hand
All upon trust from others what they may,
Oft suddenly to breake and run away:
(For their owne ends) not caring to undoe
Their Creditors, with wives and children too.
Simply to cozen, and deceive is bad,
And is of all good men in hatred had;
But to deceive a friends especiall trust
Of all else 'tis a thing the most unjust.
Now, though it be a thing that neere concernes
My selfe, and thy best friends, yet my heart yernes,
And I am loath (remembring what thou wast)
Any the least aspersion here to cast
19

Upon thy credit (tender and precize)
To hurt what (living) thou so deere didst prize:
But thou this merchant art (mine owne deere Nat)
And when wee saw thee thrive, and full of that
Rich merchandize of Honestie, and Grace,
Of Goodnesse, and a dainty diapaze
Of sweete harmonious worth, and vertues (rare
elsewhere to finde) and which few men do care
To trafficke for; thereof wee were so faine
(And sure so should if't were to doe againe)
And very fond, that eft soones wee brought forth,
And ventur'd all with thee that wee were worth;
Our liking, our affection, yea our heart,
And our best love wee did to thee impart.
But when our time of hoped gaine once came,
(With injurie enough, and thy much blame)
Thou for preferment in a better world
Gav'st us the slip, and our care quite off hurl'd;
Leaving us poore, and bankerout hereby,
Yea, and thou hast undone us utterly.
Sith all our Stocke thou dost with thee retaine,
And wee nought left have to begin againe:
And though wee had, yet sith thou prov'st unjust
(Mine owne heart root) wee know not whom to trust:
Yet would thou hadst but liv'd, I dare well say
Thou wouldst have paid while thou hadst ought to pay.
How ere, it joyes my heart to thinke, as I
Live in thy debt, that thou in mine didst die.
And howsoever I thee thus have shent,
Yet sith thou didst but what all would, content
Are wee to sit downe by our losse: could wee
But see thee now and then, and talke with thee
As we were wont, our losse would seeme the lesse.
But sith our case is quite remedilesse,
And we have no meanes left to get our owne,
But to pursue thee whither thou art gone;
20

Though say wee so should doe, thou wouldst alledge
(To put us off) that places priviledge;
Whence 'twould be harder to compell thee, then
I'th Temple Hall t'arrest a thousand men:
Therefore, for my part, I let fall my suit
With promise, henceforth nere to prosecute.
So though through griefe and creve-cœur, my heart
Within mee die, to thinke that wee must part:
Yet, till our next and happie enterview
I take my leave, now worthy Weld adieu:
Farewell deere Nat, five hundred times farewell;
Who (as thy names few letters say) dost dwell,
Where now thy Maker thou hast long beheld,
(Who by his power Heaven and earth doth weld)
In namelesse peace, and joyes more manifold
Than by my worthlesse tongue can ere be told:
Take this small tribute of my love to thee
In retribution of thy love to mee.
I to thy ingenuitie appeale,
T'accept this handfull of course barly-meale;
And these darke grains of bay-salt, pray thee hold
In worth from him, who better would if could:
Could my abilitie reach thy desert,
The World should know what manner man thou wert.
Suffice it mee that thus my hearts true love
(However homely) I to thee approve;
Nathlesse (how ever meane) in losse of sleepe,
And many private teares, I did them steepe;
With much adoe together them to save,
Till I could sprinkle them upon thy grave.
Excuse mee here, that so unorderly
My flaggie Muse thus in and out doth flie,
Indenting to and fro, her winding course,
Much like the brooke once parted from his source,
My griefe of this disorder is the cause,
And no disorder ever keeps the Lawes:
21

For griefe (like love) from reason loves to swerve,
And keepes no meane, ne measure will observe.
And sith my plaints for thee (whom I so misse)
Unto thy happinesse injurious is,
And bootlesse is for mee, to thinke, and vaine
With teares thee hither to recall againe;
And sith I cannot more (as I wont) walke,
And talke with thee, yet oft of thee to talke
It joyes my heart; and much it comforts mee
To name thee to my selfe, whom more I may not see:
Receive this payment, and what I owe more
(As more I knowledge) must run on the score:
Yet hee that payes both what and when hee can
(Which comforts me) is held an honest man.
Much would my love say more; but howsoere,
Thy worth an everlasting subject were,
And with fresh matter could beget my braine,
Nathlesse my griefe doth barren make my vaine,
And shuts up my conceit, that I can say
No more, save Ah, alack, and welladay,
And woe is mee, with such like poore rhyme,
And windie interjections spend the time!
Therefore farewell, I ne're so blest shall bee
As to repaire this my deere losse in thee,
A man amongst ten thousand, and a frend
Worthy this pretious name; so I commend
My love to thee, and thee (for ever blest)
To God, and thine eternall happie rest.
Thus (having now perform'd his Obsequies)
With thankes unto you all, (if please) arise,
And for this time your farther plaints surcease:
Arise yee Mourners all, 'tis time I you release.
Sit voluisse,
Sat valuisse.
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