University of Virginia Library

THE FOVRTH BOOK.

Epig. 1. On the death of I. P.

None di'de more griev'd, we all lament thy Fate,
So as we do our Sins, which we most hate.

Epig. 2. Sir Philip Sydneys Arcadia.

Sir, you are at the Races end before us,
But must acknowledge thanks to HELIODORUS,
Your Romance is most rare, yet halfe it's fame
Had been eclips'd, had any other name
Troubled the Title Page, each Ladies Kidney
Twitter'd to heare but of the Name of Sydney.

Epig. 3. To Doctor Bulwer, on his artificiall Changeling .

Were Naso now alive, and should he see
Thy Book full fraught with Ingenuitie,
He would write or'e his changed shapes anew,
Or scorne to weare the Chaplet that's thy due:
Those that read thee, and find no change at all,
Are Changelings, not by Art, but Naturall.

Epig. 5. On Lucians true History.

That there were Snake-foote Gyants, that a Ring
Obscur'd the person of the Lydian King,
That Ixion got a race of halfe horse-men,
That Hercules drew Cacus from his Den,
That Uulcans shop's in the Island Lemnos, where
He forgeth fire-balls for the Thunderer,
That the two Gorgons could transforme to stone
All those unhappy men they look'd upon;
Are things so credible compar'd with those,
Weav'd by thy wilie hand in looser prose,
I will beleeve them all, and as I read
Register each an Article of Creede:
Great Lord of Lying, I applaude thy wit,
But wish none, save thy self, may Father it.

Epig. 6. AN HYMN TO BACCHUS.

To Sir Thomas Engham.

Yvie deck'd God, with dangling haire,
Unto thy Rites we make repaire,
As is thy Right
This Gloomie Night.
Thou that hast thy tresses bound
With Vernall flowers, and Miter crownd,
Now curiously
In knots thy tresses tie.
As when of thy step-dame affraide
Thou rarely counterfeit'st a maide,
Come hither drest,
I'th robes and naked brest.
Those Nations who do Ganges drinke,
And slide in cold Araxis brink,
Could not thee behold
In thy Chariots rooff'd with gold.
Untamed Lyons dragg thy Carre,
Then Hyrcian Tygers fiercer farre,
Silenus on's lean Jade
With thee himself doth shade.
Drunke Priests thy Orgies celebrate,
Basarian Froes upon thee waite
With INO, the Nereides,
And thy Aunt in sacred Seas.
The Stranger Boy there make's abode,
Thy Son PALEMON (held a God)
Pactolus thy burthen tride,
(Whose waves bright gold to hide)
Thy power, Lycurgus Kingdome knowes,
Zedacians too, where Boreas blowes,
On hoarie trees that shake
Ysicles, in Mœotis lake.
Those under the Arcadian starr,
The Northern and slow Waggoner
Sound thy applause i'th skies,
Lustiest of the Dieties.
Naxos, girt with Ægean wave,
A bed to Ariadne gave,
Her losse repair'd by thee:
Oh let thy pleasures be
Sent hither by some frantick hand,
Let us drink deep at thy command,
Set ope thy flowing Springs,
Create us potent Kings.
Thou art our LÆTHE, we preferre
Thee too, for our REMEMBRANCER,
Come not arm'd Cap-a-pe
Lapethites we would not be.
O come not frowning we implore,
Let not thy surly Lyons roare,
Messagians quaffe Beasts blood,
None but thine can do us good.
That so the watch-man, and his bill
At Christs-Church corner may stand still:
Our Drawer flie his Fate,
Who feares a broken pate, &c.

Epig. 7. To Lillie the Starre-Gazer.

VVhat weather waites upon the Hyades,
Orions progresse, and the Pleiades,
Arcturus and his Sonnes, with the two Beares,
Cynthias revolv's, the motions of the Spheares,
And what Pelides Schoolmaster doth doe;
Whether the Sun (so bright to humane view)
Be not a lumpe of matter, made red hot
With fire, (at first by fervent heate begot?)
And whether pale-fac'd Cynthia so unstable,
Be not a Region, (though inhabitable?)
What Zoroastes , and the Chaldes taught,
And what Ægyptian Ptolomey hath brought
To light, thou know'st (Oh Emperick Divine)
Predicting with the liver of a Swine.

Epig. 9. Dedalus, and Icarus, A Dialogue .

DEDALUS.
VVhy striv'st thou to salute the Sun,
Soaring above thy Syre?
(Deare boy) Sols radient luster shun,
Thy wings can't brook his fire.

ICARUS.
To sport thus 'twixt the Aire and Sea,
Oh how it glads my sence,
To doubt a danger, seemes to me
But foolish diffidence.

DEDALUS.
From cruell Minos, Cretan Tower,
Have I escap'd by skill,
To see these Waves my Son devoure,
(Rash youth) then use thy Will.

ICARUS.
Now up unto Olympick Jove
I'le take my speedy flight,
These Pinnions were not made to move,
But in the Angels sight.

DEDALUS.
Descend (fond youth) ere't be too late,
Thy waxen wings do frie,
Thy wretched Father wailes thy fate,
“Those must fall low, mount high.

ICARUS.
Oh Father (see) I fall, I fall,
And plunge into the deepe,
“This Destinie must waite on all
“That in no Medium keepe.

DEDALUS.
So drops some erring Starre, farewell
Deare Icarus, thy Fame
Shall not with thee find paralell,
This Sea shall beare thy name.

Epig. 10. To Clio, having but begun my Faerie King.

O muse, what dost thou whisper in my eare?
What thou suggests to me I dare not heare,
Find thee an abler Agent, alas I
Am all unfit for Warlike Poesie,
To sing the Acts of Heros, and compile
The Deeds of Kings, in a full heightned stile,
Is such a task I dare not undergoe,
How to begin, or end, I do not know:
And more, if Spencer could not scape the spite
Of tougues malevolent, whose gentle spright
Prompted him, so meek as never man
Before him could, nor (I think) ever can,
I then shall (sure) be bitt to death, but yet
If thou commandest that I forward set,
I will not be rebellious, but desire,
Thoult warme my bosome with thy hottest fire.

Epig. 11. To Iudge Jenkins .

Sir be content, it grieves not me at all,
The Gospell Cajold, that the Law should fall.

Epig. 12. To the Illustrious Cardinall Mazerine, his Victory lately obtained over the Spanish Army under the Archduke Leopold .

Now hast thou silenc'd Slander, par'd the clawes
O'th Blatant Beast, and given Gallia cause
To curse her fond misprission, and apply
Her selfe to thee, (great Lord of Loyaltie)
Not long agoe twas hop'd a fine pretence
Should send thee to the Land of Diffidence,
—But by thy skill
The Scene is chang'd, ascend (great Sir) untill
Thy loyall head knock 'gainst the arched skie,
While the Iberians howle thy memory.

Epig. 13. To Mr. E. C. the Lawyer.

Thou hast a voice so sharpe, so shrill, and peircing,
When thou art, Littleton, or Cooke rehearsing,
That though thy beard bespeake thee man, thy tongue
Proclaimes thee woman, or that thou had'st wrong
Beneath the navell, I conclude that Fate,
Shap'd thee both to conceive, and generate.

Epig. 14. All is not Gold that Glisters.

Glorie's like Glow-womres, afarre-off shine cleare,
But have nor heate, nor light, if look't too neere.

Epig. 15. A Catholick Medicine to cure the Passion of Love.

Hard fare will famish Love, if that not doe,
Time, and long absence will impaire thy woe:
View others beauties, if that will not speed,
Then take a Halter, that will do the deed.

Epig. 16. To Mr. E. G.

You gave me Gold, I did accept your gift,
But give me leave for to refuse your drift.

Epig. 17. A Dialogue maintained by five, viz. the Poet, Clio, Povertie, Ignorance, Mammon.

CLIO.
Hither direct thy steps, descend this Cave,
Castalia call'd here, thou a place shalt have
To heare our Harmonie, here Homer sate,
When he his high immortall Illiads wrote,
Here Orpheus penn'd his Hymns, here Maro sung
Æneas Travells with a golden tongue:
Here Pindar, and Anacreon did devise
Their Odes, which since none er'e could equalize:
Here Flaccus, Naso, Spencer, hath been seen,
I help'd the last to frame his Faerie Queen:
Here make thy selfe Immortall, taste this spring,
Which will informe thee like some God to sing,
And though (perhaps) thou taste of some affliction,
It shall be sweetned by our Benediction.

POVERTIE.
If to her charmes thou listen, then with me
Thou must expect torne Raggs, and Penurie,
For to converse with want in some darke Den,
Shunning, and shunned of all other men,
Thy whole life one continued Scene of carke,
Leaving the world despised, and in the darke.

POET.
Twixt Scilla and Charydis, thus I stand,
Not knowing which to take on either hand,
This way my Genius wills me for to goe,
But wise foreseeing caution answers, no.

IGNORANCE.
Looke this way, erring mortall, learn to know
What gratitude to me the World doth owe,
Tis I that graspe both Poles, and unto me,
Both Love and Honour Vassalized be,
He that hath me to friend, can never want,
“Hee's onely happy that is ignorant.:
Knowledge confoundeth knowledge, what got he,
So much renowned for his Poesie.,
But blindenesse, nakednesse, and hunger sharpe,
Yea sometimes forced for to pawne his Harpe:
And he that wrote The Art of Love, the Rapes
Of Jupiter, and of transformed shapes,
Found banishment the guerdion of his wit,
He curst his Veine, and wilt thou Father it:
Combine with me, and my endowments trie,
Thou liberally shalt live, and wealthy die.

MAMMON.
If credence to her words thoul't not afford,
Unstable man, take thou God Mammons word,
Pluto hath made me Master of his Treasure,
I have whole Hills of Ophyr, Gold at pleasure,
For to dispose to them, I lift t'advance,
Who bow the knee to God-like Ignorance;
Hee's mad, that literature or Science chuses,
Hee's trebly plagu'd, that's loved of the Muses:
Turne or'e blind Homers workes, consume thy time,
Till thou grow'st hoarse in reading Maro's Rhime,
Or take thou Platos Prose his Schollar too,
And con or'e him, who Natures secrets knew,
Yet with the First thou'lt die a wretched man,
Or with the last, perish ith' Ocean.

CLIO.
Behold this wreath, pluck'd from that Damsell bright,
Tunr'd into Lawrell by the God of Light.

MAMMON.
View this refulgent O are, these heapes of Pearle.

IGNORANCE.
Be Ignorant, and be a Lord or Earle.

CLIO.
Converse with us, and famous shalt thou bee,
Canoniz'd unto all Posteritie.

POET.
Thrice sacred Virgin, unto thee I come,
Thou onely lead'st unto Elizium.
Though Folly glorious seem, thou art more faire,

POVERTIE.
Here I adopt thee then, my lawfull Heyre.

POET.
And welcome Poverty, thou art my choyce,
Oh that I could but beg with Homers voyce.

Epig. 18. A defiance to Fortune.

Do thy worst (whore) I will not Cry,
Although thou pinch me till I die,
Throw me down on the vilest earth,
Let one ill give another birth,
Cloath me in raggs, yea let me be
Scornd by all Mortalls, as by thee,
Yet like my selfe I needs must fall,
Though in a Ruine Generall.

Epig. 19. The Poets invitation to Ben Johnsons Ghost to appeare again.

Epig. 20. Women must not rule.

Let him be made a slave, to all a scorn,
That will not be the same that he was born.

Epig. 21. To my much honoured, and incomparable Friend, Mr. Theodor Loe Esquire, upon his request to me to pen a peculiar Poem of Oberon and his Queen.

Noble Sir, your Poet prayes
You'd teare from's head his wreath of Bayes,
And in its stead a Chaplet place
Of living flowers, t'would better grace
His aspect, now you'd have him sing,
Pucks treachery against his King.
Jelous Ob'ron when his Queen,
Dub'd him Cuckold on the green,
Conveigh me into yonder grove,
Where the broad fac'd Owle doth rove
With waving wings from tree to tree,
And the sweet Turtle mournfully
Chants her own Dirge, beneath an Oake
Which Sylvanus never strooke
In anger, nor the Dryad's curst
Since the time it sprang up first,
Here seat me, and I'le sing to life,
Oberon's frenzy for his wife.

Epig. 22. Lucan to Nero .

Dialogue.

LUCAN.
But why Sterne Tyrant must I bleeding die?

NERO.
Wretch, thou wert one in the Conspiracie
With Trayterous Piso. LVCAN, I confesse my guilt;

NERO.
And therefore shall thy tainted blood be spilt:
Know too (ambitious Mushrompe) not alone
For that, I'le send thy Soule to Acheron,
Remember my disgrace upon the Stage,
Then thou inspir'd with a Lymphatick rage
Step'st forth to thwart, my Action.—

LUCAN.
—O Apollo!
Who'l dare (warn'd by my Fate) thy steps to follow?
Thus Orpheus, and Euripides went hence,
Forc'd by the hand of Rabbid violence;
But know (pernitious Monster) I shall live,
Pharsalias Field Eternity shall give
Unto my Name, when thou Ingloriously
(Blaspheming Jove) on thy owne sword shalt die.

Epig. 23. Fantastick Silius .

Silius' an Arras maker sendeth for,
To whom he thus declares his pleasure; Sir,
I would desire you in a piece of Cloath
(Was never stain'd or eaten by the Moath)
To work me a strong Castle, and in it
A Dog that barkes, yet on his tayle doth sit,
And at the Castle gate in Armor bright,
A big-bon'd man who dares with any fight;
The workman did so, and then brought it home,
Presenting it unto this gawdy Mome,
Who in a chafe doth stampe, and sweare, and cry
Where is the Dog should in the Castle lie?
The workman answers, pardon Sir a sinner,
Belike those in the Castle are at dinner,
And (perhaps) in some corner all alone,
The Curre you misse is gnawing of a bone.

Epig. 25. Epitaph on the Lord Capell .

Here Virtue, Valor, Charity, and all
Those rare endowments we Celestiall call
Secluded are; nor wonder at the Story,
Capell lies here, Loyalties chiefest Glory.

Epig. 26. Epitaph on Duke Hamilton .

A Politian, yet a Foole,
A Teacher, and yet went to Schoole,
A Hempen cord of Silken twist,
A Papist, yet a Calvinist,
A meere OGYGES, Yet a Stranger
To Prudence, that foresees a danger;
Here lies (hee's but to Scotland gon,
No worse a Hell) tis Hamilton.

Epig. 27. On the Earle of Holland .

By Uenus selfe beneath this stone
Lyes Holland that spruce Earle,
His Carcasse here, his Head is gone
To Bridget his brave Girle,
Who makes it her Memento Mori,
While she lies close to Captaine Pory.

Epig. 28. On Mr. Spencers inimitable Poem, the Faerie Queen .

Collin my Master, O Muse sound his praise,
Extoll his never to be equal'd Layes,
Whom thou dost Imitate with all thy might,
As he did once in Chawcers veine delight,
And thy new Faerie King, shall with Queen,
When thou art dead, still flourish ever green.
Cease wealthy Italy to brag and boast,
That thou for Poesie art famed most
Of any Nation, Ariostos veine,
Though rare, came short of our great Spencers streine:
His great Orlando hath receiv'd great losse
By Spencers Faerie Knight of the Red Crosse:
Warrelike Rogeros honour clouded is
By his Arthegall, and much fame doth misse,
His sweet Angellica describ'd with Art,
Is wan and withered, to his Brittomart,
His admirable Poem darkned quite,
As if he onely had known how to write,
Nor may that wonder of your Nation claime
Supremacie, before our Spencers Fame:
Admired Tasso, (pardon) I must do
That right the Muses all perswade me to,
Although to Godfery by thy worthy Layes,
Thou dost a Mausolean Trophey raise,
Yet Spencer to Eliza hath done more,
And by his fullnesse lesseneth thy store:
He like the grand Meonian sits on high,
Making all Verse stoope to his Poesie;
Like to some mighty River Nile or Po,
All that obstruct him, hee'l soon overthrow:
And shallow Brooks, if any list to strive,
From forth his Ocean soon they may derive.
Hee next unto Apollo sits above
With Homer, and sweet Maro, who approve
Of his society, and joy to see
Him that did equall their fam'd Poesie.
Niggardly Nation be asham'd of this,
A Tombe for thy great Poet wanting is,
While fooles, not worth the naming, seated high
On Sepulchers of Marble God-like lie:
The learned in obscurity are thrust,
But yet their Names shall long out-live their dust:
Although Great Spencer they did thee interre,
Not Rearing to thy name a Sepulcher,
Yet thou hast one shall last to the last day,
Thy Faerie Queen, which never shall decay:
This is a Poets Priviledge, although
His person among sordid dolts do goe
Unto the Grave, his Name shall ever live,
And spite of Time, or Malice shall survive.

Epig. 29. To the brave and nobe Lady, the Lady E. B.

Oh may these Comick layes be blest by thee
And from thy Lips, suck their Eternity.

Epig. 30. On Mr. Davenants most excellent Tragedy of Albovinek of Lombards .

Shakespeares Othello, Johnsons Cataline,
Would lose the their luster, were thy Albovine
Placed betwixt them, and as when the Sunne,
Doth whirling in his fiery Chariot runne,
All other lights burn dim, so this thy play,
Shall be accepted as the Sun-shine day:
While other witts (like Tapers) onely seems
Good in the want of thy Refulgent beames.
This Tragedy (let who list dare dissent)
Shall be thy everlasting Monument.

Epig. 31. CUPIDS CREATION.

Lust favouring Vice, a Dietie
Ascrib'd to Love, and to be free
To that wilde Fury adds
A forged power, that Cupid gladds,
By his Paphian Mother sent
All about Earths Continent;
Flies up to Heaven and there straies,
Shoots shafts, that every God obeyes:
Saturnus, he with the awfull Rod
Whose feet with winged shooes are shod,
All power to him is given,
On Earth, Seas, Hell and Heaven;
T'xcuse their guilt, Franticks bestow
Upon Dame Venus Son an awfull Bow.

Epig. 32. All Saints, and all Soules Day, 1. and 2. of November .

Thou Sunne, that shed'st the dayes, looke down and see,
A moneth more shining by events then thee,
Departed Soules, and Saints sign'd it before,
But know the living now do signe it more,
Persons, and Actions meet, all meant for Joy,
But some are born to build, some to destroy;
Bate us that Ushering curse so dearely known,
Not these two daies, but the whole moneth's our own.

Epig. 33. The Ægyptians first found out the Art of Navigation.

These pass'd the dangerous Gulph, and durst
By new found waies adventure first,
These first fraught Ships, found Merchandize,
First observ'd Starres, and Checquer'd skies.

Epig. 34. For the Statue of Queen Elizabeth .

Behold th'Effigie of a Virgin Queen,
Zealously courted wheresoever seen:
The Peoples Love first from her troubles grew,
And then her Reigne did make that Love her Due:
That comely order, which did then adorne
Both Fabricks, now's by many Factions torne,
That forme by her allow'd of Common Prayer,
Our Sectaries call vaine beating of th' Ayre,
How do they honour, how forsake her Crown,
Her Times are still cried up, but practis'd down.

Epig. 35. Baptizing of Infants, the New Mode.

Bring here the Bason, is the Babe defil'd,?
Good Parson play the Barber with the Child,
Place him in publick view, in sight of all,
But spare your Crosses, and your Washing-ball;
And (that the Gold-smith may be quite undone)
The Father and the Godfathers are one.
This Babe of Grace shall be of more account,
Then all the Antichristians of the Font.

Epig. 36. The Powder Treason.

This was a Treason of the worst intent,
Had not our own done more then strangers meant.

Epig. 37. To Mr. L. H.

To eate so much, and yet to looke so thinn,
Thus Lust puts out, what Luxurie puts in.

Epig. 38. On the birth of the Lady E. D.

Away, and view the Graces, and the Houres
Hovering aloofe, and dropping mingled flowers
Upon the Cradle where an Infant lies,
The greatest Grace, chiefest of Dieties.

Epig. 39. On the Death of Strafford Deputie of Ireland .

That thou wert wise as Nestor, vallianter
Then great Priamides, and stronger farre
Then big-bon'd Ajax, that thy skill did shine
Suparlatively in Warrs art, to thine;
That Cæsars vici was but slow, that all
Which makes an able Statesman, thou migh'st call
Thine, and thine onely, that thy mighty Soule
Dispans'd, extended unto either Pole:
Truth must acknowledge, that thy Royall Lord,
Durst to have morgag'd unto thee his Sword,
So great his confidence, during whose Reigne
Thou shon'st a Constellation, next his Waine,
And tis not yet decided, whether thou
Or he were more resplendent, on thy brow
Sate Terror mixt with Wisedome, and at once
Saturne, and Hermes in thy Countenance.
(Second Sejanus) in thy fall we see
Nosce teipsum, was not known to thee.

Epig. 40. On the Death of the truely learned and exquisitely Vertuous I. D. Esquire.

VVhen Fates impartial hand shall summon me,
It will increase my Joy to visite thee,
Yet we must sympathize, and on thy Herse
Powre out a Sable teare to write a Verse:
With your swart weeds my Azure lines agree,
“A mourners beauty is deformity.
Blame not the Three for this sad Fate, they do
Consume themselves in teares, as well as you,
'Twas not their will so faire a flower should stay
So short a time, and fade so soone away,
They had resolv'd upon this common Stage,
He should have acted out old Nestors Age,
While they their over-busied hands conjoyne
With curious Art, to draw the fatall twine
To a full length, they forc'd the same so small,
That (unawares) alack) it brake withall:
And all but right, should they do heaven wrong
To keep his precious Soule on Earth so long
That long'd to part, should they his Joyes repreive
And kill him thus, by keeping him alive;
Heaven then took pitty, and could not dispence
With this their kindnesse, therefore Rap't him hence.

Epig. 41. A Cobler to Plato, on his Commonwealth.

Aristos Son, behold wee all agree
To have the Government prescrib'd by thee,
And sit enthron'd even in our drudgerie.

Epig. 42. To Mr. G. K.

Sir, I do runne, but you attaine the prize,
“'Tis better to be Fortunate then Wise:
Besides by Randalle's Exit, it appeares,
“Witt's a Disease, that kills men in few yeares:
Which bids me this Prediction freely give,
Longer then Nestor you are like to live.

Epig. 43. To Will. Lee, the Bookseller at Pauls Chaine.

Syrrah; thou art so base a Foole that I,
Think thee not worth my Anger, else I'de try
In ARCHILOCHUS tone, so loude to sing,
(With a Quill borrowed from a Ravens wing,
Penning such fatall Scripture) thou (thou Else)
But hearing it, should'st streightway hang thy (selfe,
But I am mercifull, repent thy ill,
And know no sword, cutts deeper then my Quill.

Epig. 44. To Lydia scorning him.

I care not now, still harden, know that I
By viewing thee, begin to Petrefie,
Though thou art Rockie, yet the Gods assent
I am the stone must be thy Monument.

Epig. 45. To I. Buzby

Th'art not in debt, (thou swear'st) and I dare say it,
For those alone do owe, that meane to pay it.

Epig. 46. Epitaph, on Mr. Fountaine and his young Son dying, and being buried together in one Grave.

Fountaine of teares shed here, here lies a man,
In whom a Fount of Learning gliding ran,
Yet cruell death this living. Fountaine stop'd,
The pleasant Palme that grew beside it crop't:
You may search farr, and yet not find a Well,
Fit with this matchlesse Fount to paralell.

Epig. 47. The deliverance from a garrulous vain-glorious Scholar in Sion Coledge.

To I. P's Chamber, I one day resorted,
Where the young man to me rare things imparted,
As first his Study full of Learned Books,
On which (I dare be sworn) he seldome looks.
Then next a Chamber, at the Eastern end
Thereof, a bed to entertaine a Friend.
Then led he me towards a gloomie hole,
Quoth he, this is repleat with Wood and Coale,
Not so well stuff'd was Epeus Brazen steed,
Then he discover'd boxes full of seed
Which fed his Finches, and Canary-Birds,
And then he led me to his house of (------)
Gravely Discoursing all the tedious way,
That Athanasius in a Cistern lay
Fearefull of Arius, seven yeares and more
Not halfe so sweet: then next he op'd a dore,
Discovers a large Shelfe of Boots and Shoes,
Refulgent Sol (said I) that al things views,
Rescue, oh rescue me, (great Dietie)
This Foole will kill me with's discovery.
Apollo heard, one towards us did advance,
And so great Phœbus saved me by chance.