University of Virginia Library

To his loving Friend and Cousen-German, Mr. William Wither.

Epigram 15.

If that the Standerds of the house bewray
What Fortunes to the owners may betide;
Or if their destinies, as some men say,
Be in the names of any signifi'd,
'Tis so in thine: for that faire antique Shield
Born by thy Predecessors long agoe,
Depainted with a cleare pure Argent field,
The innocencie of thy line did show.
Three sable Crescents with a Cheveron gul'd:
Tells that black fates obscur'd our houses light;
Because the Planet that our fortunes rul'd,
Lost her own lustre, and was darkned quite:
And as indeed our adversaries say,
The very name of Wither shews decay.
But yet despaire not, keep thy white unstain'd,
And then it skills not what thy Crescents be.
What thogh the Moon be now increas'd, now wan'd!
Learne thence to know thy lives inconstancie;
Be carefull as thou hitherto hast bin
To shun th' abuses man is tax'd for here:
And then that brightnesse, now eclips'd with sin,
When Moon and Sun are darkned shall look cleare:
And whatsoe'er thy name may seem to threat,
That quality brave things doth promise thee;
E'er thou shalt want thy Hare will bring thee meat,
And to kill care, her selfe thy make-sport be:
Yea, (though yet Envies mists do make them dull)
I hope to see the waned Orbes at full.