Commendatory poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Commendatory poems

Davies, John (1565?-1618)

II.

VOL. II.

Commendatory Poems.

Additions to Commendatory Poems.

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II. VOL. II.

Commendatory Poems.

I.—Rowland Vavghan.

[_]

From ‘Most Approved and Long experienced Water Workes. Containing, The manner of Winter and Summer-drowning of Medow and Pasture, by the aduantage of the least, Riuer, Brooke, Fount, or Water-prill adiacent; there-by to make those grounds (especially if they be drye) more Fertile Ten for One. As also a demonstration of a Proiect, for the great benefit of the Commonwealth generally, but of Hereford-shire especially. By Rowland Vavghan, Esquire. Imprinted at London by George Eld. 1610’ (4to).

A PANEGYRICKE,

In the deserued honor of this most profitable worke, and no lesse renowned then much-desired Proiect.

I sing of him that is as deere to mee
As to the World; to whom both aye are bound;
Then briefe, for Bond so long, I cannot be;
Vnlesse my Loue were (like my Lines) too round.

Proportion doth so please Witte, Will, and Sense,
That where it wants, it grieues Sense, Will, and Witte:
Then by Proportion of his Excellence,
Thus must we shape our praise of Him, and It.

When as the Earth all soild in sinne did lye,
Th'almighties long-prouokt inraged-HAND
Emptied Heau'ns Bottles, it to purifie;
And made that FLVD that mud to countermand.

So, for like crimes, of late, we plagu'd haue bin
With like O'reflowings, washing all away
That lay the Earth vpon, or Earth within,
Within the limitts where this Deluge lay!

Which Inundations were for Earth vnfit:
But hee whose Hand and Head this WORKE compos'd,
Shewes how to drowne the Earth to profit it:
And beeing Ill, to make it Well-disposd.

Some with their Lands, doe oft so sinck them-selues,
That they to it, and it to them yeeld nought,
But, in the Ocean what doe yeeld the Shelues,
Which when they see, they flee, with pensiue thought.

But in His Drownings, He makes Lands arise,
In grace and goodnesse to the highest pitch;
And Meades, and Pastures price he multiples;
So, while some lies, He rise doth in the Ditch.

His royall TRENCH (that all the rest commands)
And holds the Sperme of Herbage by a Spring)
Infuseth in the wombe of sterile Lands,
The Liquid seede that makes them Plenty bring.

Here, two of the inferior Elements
(Ioyning in Coïtu) Water on the Leaze
(Like Sperme most actiue in such complements)
Begets the full-pancht Foison of Increase?

For, through Earths rifts into her hollow wombe,
(Where Nature doth her Twyning-Issue frame)
The water soakes, whereof doth kindly come
Full- Barnes, to ioy the Lords that hold the same.

For, as all Womens wombes do barren seeme,
That neuer had societie of Men;
So fertill Grounds we often barren deeme,
Whose Bowells, Water fills not now and then.

Then, Earth and Water, warmed with the Sunne,
Ingenders what doth make Man-kinde ingender:
For Venus quickly will to ruine runne,
If Ceres and her Bacchus not defend her.

Then looke how much the Race of Man is worth,
So much is worth this Arte, maintaining it;
Then ô how deere is hee that brought it forth,
With paine and cost for Man-kinds benefit!

Though present Times (that oft vngratefull prooue)
May vnder-valew both his Worke and Him;
Yet After-times will prize them Price aboue,
And hold them Durt that doe their glory dim.

For He by Wisedome, ouer-rules the Fates,
By Witt defeating passions of the Ayre;
When they against his well-fare nurse debates,
While fooles (ore-rul'd by each) die through dispaire.

In dropping Sommers, that do marre the Meads,
His Trenches draine the Raines superfluous Almes;
And when heate wounds the Earth ( to death that bleeds)
Hee cures the chaps with richest Water-balmes.

So, when Heau'n (ceaselesse) weepes to see Earths sinne
He can restraine those Teares from hurting him;
Vntill his Teares the Heau'ns to ioy do win,
While other Grounds are torne, the life from limbe.

And when the Earth growes Iron, for Hearts so growne,
Hee can dissolue it straite (as Waxe it were;)
Mantling the Meadowes in their Summer-Gowne;
So ioys in hope, while others grieue in feare.

“Thus wisemen rule the Starres, as Starres doe fooles;
“And each mans manners doe his Fortunes square;
“Arte learnes to thriue in Natures practick Schooles;
“And Fortune fauours men of actions rare.

Such one is this rare Subiect of my Rimes,
Who raignes by mirry motion, ore my Spleene;
Such is this Water-glasse, wherein these Times
Do see how to adorne their Meades in Greene.

Hee from a Mole-hill (from whose hollow wombe
Issu'd a Water-fount) a Mount did reare;
A Mount of large Reuenues thence did come;
So, a Mole-hill great with yong a Mountaine bare!

How many Riuers, Founts, and Water-prills,
(Tend'ring their seruice to their Lords for Rent)
Are nere imployde but in poore Water-mills,
While the drye Grounds vnto the Bones are brent.

To Tantalus I can resemble those
That touch the water that they n'ere doe taste;
And pine away, Fruite being at their Nose,
So, in Aboundance, they to nought do waste.

The Brookes runne murmuring by their parched Brincks
(Pure virgin Nimphes) and chide against the Stancks,
When as their sweetest profer'd seruice stinkes,
So coyly kisse the chapt-lippes of the Bankes.

And (weake as water) in their Beds do stretch
(As t'were to yeeld their Ghost for such disgrace)
Their Christall limbes vnto the vtmost Reach;
And shrinke from th'Armes that (vselesse) them imbrace.

When as the Meads, wherein their Beds do lye,
Make towards them, and fall by lumpes therein;
Who (of the yellow Iaundise like to dye)
Creepe to their Beds, their loue and health to winne.

O Landlords see, O see great Lords of Land
These sencelesse creatures mou'd to eithers aid
But for your helpe, who may their helpes command:
Then well command, you shall be well obaid.

Helpe Nature in her Workes, that workes for you;
And be not idle when you may do good:
“Paines are but Sports when earnest gaines insue:
“For, Sport, in earnest, lies in Liuelihood.

The Golden-age is now return'd againe,
Sith Gold's the God that all commands therein;
By Gold (next God) Kings conquer, rule and raign;
With Gold we may commute, or grace our sinne.

Briefly, by Him we may do what we will,
Although we would do more then well we may:
For He makes ill too good, and good too ill;
And more then God, the ill do him obay.

Then if ye would be eyther Great or Good,
Or Good and Great (all which he can you make)
Take pleasure (ô) to saue your Liuings Bloud
And streame it through their Limbes, for Profits sake.

This Esculapius of diseased Grounds,
(Casting their Water in his Vrinalls)
(His Trenches) sees what Humor ore-abounds,
Aud cures them straight by Drought or Water-falls.

This little-great-great-little Flash of Wit,
This Soule of Action, all compos'd of Flame,
(Mounting by Action to high Benefit)
Exalts his State, his Countries, and his Fame.

He well deserues to be a Lord of Land,
That ore rebellious Lands, thus Lords it well:
O that all Lords that can much Land command.
Would so command it, when it doth rebell.

But pleasure, Pompe, and inter-larded Ease
Possesse great Land-lords; who, for rebell Groundes,
Do Racke their Rents, and idely liue on these;
Or spoyle their Tenants Cropp with carelesse Houndes.

But this rare Spirit, (that hath nor Flesh, nor Bone,
But Man euen in the Abstract) hunts for Wealth
With Witt, that runnes where Profit should be sowne
By wholesome Paines; so, reaps both Wealth, & Health.

Whether the Cost, or Time, which he hath spent
Be most, it's hard to say: for, twenty yeares

His Pounds, by thousands, he his Grounds hath lent,
Which payes now vse, on vse, as it appeares.

The Place wherein is fall'n His happy Lott
Hight Golden Valley; and so iustly held:
His Royall TRENCH, is as his melting Pott,
Whence issues Liquid-gold the Vale to gild!

O that I had a World of glorious wordes,
In golden Verse (with gold) to paint his praise,
I would blinde Enuies Eyes, and make Land-lords
By this Sunnes rising; see their Sonnes to raise.

But ô! this is not all thou dost behight
Deere Vaughan, thy Deere Country for her good;
For, thou resolu'st to raise that benefit
Out of thy priuate care; and Liu'lyhood.

Thy many trades (too many to rehearse
That shall on thy Foundation stedfast stand)
Shall with their Praiers, still the Heauens pierce;
And blesse their Founders rare Head, Heart, and Hand.

That publike Table which thou will erect
(Where forty euery Meale shall freely feed)
Will be the Cause of this so good Effect
To plant both Trades and Trafficke there with speed.

There shall thy Iouialist Mechanicalls
Attend this Table all in Scarlet Cappes;
(As if they were King Arthures Seneschals)
And, for their paines shall fill their Chapps and Lapps.

For, neuer since King Arthurs glorious dayes
(Whose radiant Knights did Ring his Table round)
Did euer any such a Table raise
As this, where Viands shall to all abound!

Nay this, shall that franke Table farre exceed
If we respect the good still done by each:
For, that fedde none but such as had no need;
But this (like God) shall feede both poore and rich!

This Table then (that still shall beare thy Name
In Hyrogliphicks of the daintiest Cates)
As oft as it is spread shall spread thy Fame
Beyond the greatest conquering Potentates!

They spill with spite, what thou in pitty spend'st;
They onely great, thou good, how euer small;
Subuersion they, Erection thou intend'st;
They foes to most, but Thou a friend to all.

Thy vertuous care to haue thy God ador'd
(Among thy Paines and Pleasures) all will blesse:
Thy Pension for a Preacher of his Word,
Shewes thou seek'st Heauen, and earthly happinesse.

A Chappell and a Curate for the same
(The one maintain'd, the other built by Thee
For Gods Diurnall praise) shall make thy Name
In Rubricke of the Saints enrold to be.

Thine Almes-house for thy haplesse Mechanicks
Shall blaze thy charity to After-ages;
And longer last in Brests of men, then Bricks;
Increasing still thy heauenly Masters Wages.

If holy Dauid had great thanks from Heau'n
But for the Thought to make the Arke an House;
Then thanks of all, to Thee, should still be giu'n
Whose purpose is to all commodious.

O happy Captaine! that hast past the Pikes
Of sharpest Stormes, still wounding Soldiers states,
To end thy Dayes in that which all men likes,
Ioy, Mirth, and Fellowship, which ends debates.

Thy Drummes and Trumpets (Mars his melodie)
That wonted were to call thy foes to fight,
Shall now but call a friendly Company
(For honest ends) to feasting and delight.

Glory of Wales, and luster of thy name,
That giu'st to both sans Parralel'd renowne,
Vpon the Poles inscribed be thy Fame,
That it to Worlds vnknowne may still be knowne.

That they may say a Nooke but of an Isle
That North-ward lies, doth yeeld a rarer Man,
Then larger Lands by many a Thousand Mile,
Who can do Thus, and will do what He can.

But many Monarches, many Worldes haue wonne,
Yet, with their Winnings haue not wonne that praise
As this great-little Lord of hearts hath done,
For good-deedes done to These, and After-dayes.

Now Enuy swell, and breake thy bitter'st Gall
With ceaselesse fretting at these sweete Effects,
Th'eternall good which he intends to all
His Fame (well fenc'd) aboue a Foile erects.

Liu'd He among the Pagans, they would make
His glorious Mansion some auspicious Starre;
And make their Altars fume still for his sake
As to a God, to whome still bound they are.

For, Bacchus but for planting, first, those Plants
Whereby mens Wealth, and Witt are oft ore'throwne
Which Wanton Nature rather craues, then wants,
They, as a God, with Gods do still enthrone.

But let vs Christians, though not yeeld Him this,
Yet giue him Loue and Honor due t'a Man,
That makes men liue (like Gods) in Wealth, and Blisse,
And heaue his Fame to Heauen if we can.

Vaine Hanno taught his lesse vaine Birds to say
Hee was a God: and then he turn'd them loose
That they abroad might chaunt it still; but they
(So gon) with silence prou'd their God, a Goose.

Then, though no God he were, yet might He be
A right ( ) God-keeper in the Capitoll:
They Geese (at most) and so (at least) was He;
Or, if ought lesse, his God-head was a Gull.

But what I say, none taught me but thy Worth;
Nor shall it (like those Birds) thy Fame betray:
But these my Lines shall then best sett thee forth
When thou art worse then Wormes, and lesse then Clay.

As well thy Crest, as Coat (ô wondrous thing!)
A Serpent is, about an Infants Necke:
Who was thine Ancestor, as Bards do sing,
So borne (aliue) the Fates to counterchecke.

From him thou cam'st; as one, in him preseru'd;
(By way of Miracle) for this good end,
As, by thy skill, to haue so well deseru'd
Of all the Kingdome, which it much will mend.

This praise (perhaps) which thy deserts exact,
By Enuy will be thought poeticke skill,
Playing the Vice, but in a glozing Act,
And so wrong Witte to sooth an erring will.

But yet if Arte should leaue true Arte vnprais'd,
(The only Meed the Time all Arte affords)
What Spirit by Art, would then at all be raiz'd
(From this World's hel) if Art should want good words?

Then, be the mouth of Enuy wide as Hell
Still open in thy spight, yet say I still
Thy praise exceeds, because thou dost excell
In these thy works, that worke Good out of Ill.

If I be lauish of good-words; thou art
As lauish of the good which thou canst do:
Then, must thy praise be greate-good, like thine Arte,
That goods thy praisers, and dispraisers too.

In short (sith on thy praise I long haue stood
Whereon my verses Feete do freely fall)
As thou dost worke by Flouds, so th'art a Floud
Of working, running to the Good of all.

For as the Sunne doth shine on good and bad;
So doost thou (Sunne of Vse-full Science) still:
Then, Floud, and Sunne, thou art the ground to glad,
And make it fruitfull to the good and ill.

But sith th'obscurest Sparke of thy bright Tribe
Speakes thus of Thee, (thou small-great man of worth)
It may be thought I praise to thee ascribe
As part mine owne; so falsely, set thee forth:
But those, so thinking, when thy Worth they prooue,
With mee, will thee both honor, praise and loue.

Your poore kinsman, and honorer of true vertue in whom so-euer. Iohn Davies of Hereford.

Noahs floud.

The Inundation caused by the boiling vp of the sea in Monmouth and Glamorgan shire, the yeare 1607.

Few Hadlands take pleasure to behold the lands they had.

Trenches, by which his workes are effected.

By equiuocation it may bee taken for Infants as wel as Barnes: Barne being the name of Infant in some places of England.

Sine Cerere & Baccho, friget Venus.

The Sunne exhaling all radicall moysture from thence by wounds or chaps which are made by summers heate.

The teares of sinners, are the wine of Angels.

Ars Dominabitur astris.

Or cleare Mirrour.

From the obseruation whereof, proceeded the rest of his workes, as in this his booke more at large is expressed.

In dry Summers the Riuers grow lowest.

When the Bankes are chapt, they (cleeuing) fall by mammocks into the Riuer.

Gaines take away the thought of Paines.

Wealth helps Vertue in her operations; whose hands were else bound from ouert action.

All gauly & too dry grounds rebell against nature, and mens profit.

The Countries good.

Preacher & Curate for daily seruice.

Any way mischanc't in their Bodies, So that they cannot work.

2 Sam. 7. 2–16.

What is before expressed.

Like Mars, Iupiter and Saturne.

Vines.

Geese (by reason of their vigilancy) kept the Pagan-Gods in the Romaine Capitoll.

Good Grasse out of ill ground.

Descended from his Ancestors.

Once more for a Farewell.

In deserued praise of this neuer-too-much praysed Worke.

Good Wine doth need no Bush: (Lord! who can tell
How oft this old-said-Saw hath prais'd new Bookes?)
But yet good Water (drawne from Founts and Brookes)
By Sluce (the Signe) makes dry Groundes drinke it well.

Men may haue store of Water, and dry Land;
Yet, if they draw it not through Trenches fitt,
(By Sluce, that shewes how (well) to vtter it)
It idely runnes, while scarce the Owners stand.

Good Water, then by Sluce, through Trench must passe
For good returne; that else runnes to no end;
Which Signe doth draw it in, it selfe to spend
On dryest Grounds, that (drunken) cast vp Grasse;
Which giddy Simily, in sober Sence,
Shewes the Effect of this Workes excellence.

Iohn Dauies.

II.—Richard Peeke.

[_]

From ‘Three to One, being an English Spanish Combat, &c.’ 1626 (4to).

Certaine Verses, Written by a Friend, in Comendations of the Author Richard Peeke.

Seldome doe Clowdes so dimne the day,
But Sol will once his Beames display:
Though Neptune driues the surging Seas,
Sometimes he giues them quiet ease;
And so few Proiects speed so ill,
But somewhat chaunceth at our will.

I will not instance in the Great,
Placed in Honors higher Seate;
Though Vertue in a Noble Line
Commends it, and the more doth shine:
Yet this is procur'd by Sword and Pen,
Desert oft dwells in priuate Men.

My proofe is not farre hence to seeke,
There is at hand braue Richard Peeke,
Whose worth his Foes cannot reuoke,
Borne in the Towne of Tauystoke
In Deuon, where Minerua sitts
Shaping stoute Hearts, and Pregnant Witts.

This well resolu'd and hardy Sparke,
Ayming at Fame, as at a Marke,
Was not compell'd against his will,
In Mars his field to try his skill:
As Voluntary he did goe,
To serue his King against his Foe.

If he had pleas'd, he might haue spent
His daies at home, in safe content:

But nurcing Valour in his brest,
He would aduenture with the Best,
Willing to shed his dearest blood,
To doe his Prince, and Countrey good.

Thus bent, he adding Winges to Feete,
Departed with the English Fleete:
There was no rub, nor stay at all,
The Shipps saild with a pleasant Gale:
In setting forth they by their hap,
Seem'd lul'd in Amphitrites lap.

At length they did arriue at Cales,
Where restles Peeke against the Walles
Made fourescoore Shot towards the Shore,
Making the Welkyn wide to rore:
He kept his standing in this strife,
Setting a straw by the losse of life.

Into a Vineyard afterward
He marcht, and stood vpon his guard;
There he an Horse-man did dismount,
By outward port of good account:
But did on him compassion take,
And spar'd his life for pitties sake.

The next assault, vneuen he felt,
For with twelue Spaniards he dealt
At once, and held them lusty play,
Vntill through odds, theirs was the day:
From eare to eare they pearc'd his head,
And to the Towne him Captiue led.

In Prison they him shut by night,
Loaden with Chaines of greiuous waight,
All comfortlesse in Dungion deepe,
Where Stench annoyes, and Vermines creepe:
He grouel'd in this loathsome Cell,
Where gastly sights and horrors dwell.

Yet nothing could his courage quaile,
Hunger, nor thirst, nor wound nor Iayle:
For being brought before a Don,
And askt, Why England did set on
A scraping, not a pecking Hen?
He answer'd, staine not English-men.

That England is a Nation stoute,
And till the last will fight it out:
My selfe could prooue by Chiualrie,
If for a Captiue this were free:
Why, (quoth the Duke) darst thou to fight
With any of my Men in sight?

Of thousands whom in Warre you vse,
Not one (quoth Peeke) doe I refuse:
A chosen Champion then there came,
Whose heeles he tript, as at a game,
And from his Hand his Rapier tooke,
Presenting it vnto the Duke.

Then three at once did him oppose
They Rapiers, he a long Staffe chose
The vse whereof so well he knowes,
He conquer'd them with nimble blowes:
One that beside him play'd his round,
He threw as dead vnto the ground.

The Noble Duke who this did see
Commended Peeke, and set him free;
He gaue him Guifts, and did commaund
That none should wrong him in their Land;
So well he did him entertayne,
And sent him to the Court of Spayne.

There he was fed with no worse meate,
Then which the King himselfe did eate;
His Lodging rich, for he did lie
In furniture of Tapestrie:
The King what of him he had heard,
Did with his Treasure well reward.

Our then Ambassador was there,
Peekes Pike and praise he doth declare:
At Spanish Court whiles he attends
He thriues for Vertues sake: as Friends
Foes sent him in triumphant sort
Home from a Foe and Foreign Port.

If thus his very Foes him lou'd,
And Deeds against themselues aproou'd;
How should his Friends his loue embrace,
And yeild him countenance and grace?
The praise and worth how can we cloke
Of manly Peeke of Tauystoke?

FINIS

III.—William Parry.

[_]

From ‘A new and large discourse of the Trauels of Sir Anthony Sherley Knight by Sea and ouer Land, to the Persian Empire. . . . Written by William Parry Gentleman, who accompanied Sir Anthony in his Trauells. London Printed by Valentine Simmes for Felix Norton. 1601’ (8vo.)

I. D. of Hereford in praise of William Parry Gentleman.

To creepe like ants about this earthie round
And not to gather with the ant, is vaine;
Some finde out countries which were neuer found,
Yet scarcely get their labour for their paine:
Whereby I gather, there they gather not,
But rather scatter. Better lost than found
Were all such countries. Will, such is thy lot,
Thou hast lost ground to finde out other ground;
Yet thou hast found much more than thou couldst lose;
Though thou couldst lose more than the seas confine,
For thou hast found that none could finde but those
That seeke, as thou hast done, for Wisedome's eine,
And that's Experience nowhere to be seene,
But eu'ry where where thou (good Will) hast beene.

Tam Arte Quam Marte.

IV.—Josua Sylvester.

[_]

From ‘Du Bartas His Divine Weekes and Workes: With a Complete Collection of all the other most delightfull Workes, Translated and Written by that famous Philomusus Josuah Sylvester, Gent.’ Folio (all editions: text 1641).

In praise of the Translator.

If divine Bartas (from whose blessed Braines
Such Works of grace, or gracefull workes did stream)
Were so admir'd for Wits celestiall Strains
As made their Vertues Seat, the high'st Extream;
Then Joshuah, the Sun of thy bright praise
Shall fixèd stand in Arts faire Firmament
Till Dissolution date Times Nights, and Dayes,
Sith right thy Lines are made to Bartas Bent,
Whose Compasse circumscribes (in spacious words)
The Universall in particulars;
And thine the same, in other tearms, affords:
So, both your Tearms agree in friendly Wars:
If Thine be onely His, and His be Thine,
They are (like God) eternall, sith Diuine.

John Davies, Of Hereford.

V.—John Melton.

[_]

From ‘A Sixe-Folde Politician. Together with a Sixefolde Precept of Policy. London Printed by E. A. for Iohn Busby, and are to be solde at his Shop in Saint Dunstans Churchyard. 1609’ (8vo.)

In due praise of the Author.

These speaking pictures of those counterfets
That would be statesmen, rather men of State,
Are such as doe their life delineate
By which the Drawer's fame still life begets.

But where he paints in colours (rarely rich)
The picture of a perfect statesman, hee
Transcends himselfe and makes each eye to see
His darkest vaines with iudgement's clearest touch.

O nere could words (though wayèd in Wisdome's scoles,
And measured by the square of art, by Wit)
But these alone, so right the spirit fit
Of statesmen that (obeying) all controlles;
Passe on viue image, make all times admire
How earthly hands came by such heauenly fire.

Io. Dauis, Gent.

VI.—Thomas Decker.

[_]

From ‘Lanthorne and Candlelight or the Bell-Man's second Night-walke, &c.’ 1609 (4to).

To the Author.

How e're thou maist by blazing all Abuse,
Incurre suspect, thou speak'st what thou hast prou'd,
(Tho then to keepe it close it thee behou'd,
So, Reason makes for thee a iust excuse)
Yet of thy paines the Best may make good vse,
Then of the Best thy paines should be approu'd,
And for the same of them shouldst be belou'd.
Sith thou of Falsehoods Floud do'st ope the Sluce,
That they at waste continually may runne,
By shewing men the Reaches that they haue,
That honest men may so or'e-reach a Knaue,
Or sound their swallowing Deepes, the same to shunne:
But if from hence, a Knaue more cunning growes,
That Spider sucks but poison from thy Rose.

Thy friend if thine owne, Io: Da:

VII.—John Gwillim.

[_]

From Joh. Gwillim his ‘A Display of Heraldrie’ (n.d.) folio [1611?].

To my deseruedly beloued and worthy Friend and Countriman Mr. Iohn Gwillim, touching his display of the Honourable Art of ARMORY.

Thy Name, thy Countrey, and thy matchlesse Art
Incites my Muse to raise her Armes of pow'r,
With praises to lay open thy desert,
To make it all-deuouring Time deuoure.
But (oh) a small Reward it is to get,
But Fame, too Cheape, for that which cost so deere,
As Time, and Paines, and Cost; and all three, great;
Yet that's the most, the most doe looke for heere.
Thou hast reduc'd an Art (much like our Law)
Vnmethodiz'd, to such a Method now,
That the whole Art, that was before but raw,
Is made most ripe in Rules the same to know:
Heere, all the Termes by which the Art is knowne,
And the least Particle of each least Part,
Are so Anatomized, and strictly showne,
That All may see the Soule of all this Art.
Heere, all the Bearings, both of Beasts and Birds,
Of Fish, Flies, Flowers, Stone, and each minerall,
Of Planets, Starres, and all, that All affords,
Are made by Art, appeare most naturall.
So that this Worke, did ransacke Heauen and Earth,
Yea Natures bulke it selfe, or all that is
In Nature hid, before this Booke had birth,
To shew this Art by them, and them by this:
Then, Natures Secretary we may stile

Thy Searching Spirit, or else we iustly may,
Plinius Secundus call thee; sith (the while,
Rare Herald) thou dost Natures Armes display;
So that we cannot hold him Generous,
(If squar'd by Rules of Generosity,)
That will not haue this Booke (composed thus)
To vnderstand Himselfe, and It thereby.
For, heere by Armes (as sometimes Ships at Sea)
Is seene how Houses grapple, but for Peace;
Yet (being ioined) distinguisht so they be,
That we may see them (seuerall) peece by peece.
For, the whole Body to these Armes thou hast,
So cleerely purg'd from sad Obscurity,
That now this Art in FRONT may well be plac'd
Of Arts that shine in Perspicuity.
And if before, the same seem'd most abstruse;
Now, hast thou (for WALES glory, and thine owne
Rare BRITAINE) made it facill for our vse,
Sith vnconfusedly the same is showne:
Then, all that honour Armes must honour Thee,
That hast made Armes from all confusion Free.

Iohn Davies of Hereford.

VIII.—John Taylor, the Water-Poet.

[_]

From Taylor's ‘Vrania, or His Heauenly Muse.’ 1615: quarto edition.

In laudem Authoris.

To the Helliconian Water-Poet, my honest friend, Iohn Taylor.

In euery Art, saue Poetry, the meane
Is praisd: but therein meanely-well to do
Is base, too base: then Iudgment cannot leane
On whats too base, but base it must be too.
Then each man that his Reputation huggs
For Iudgment, praise no lines of but meane Reach:
And laude but what drawes dry Mineruaes duggs,
Lest they their Iudgments might thereby impeach.
Then is my Iudgment Iack, perplext in thee;
For thou dost write so well with meanes so ill
That thine Admirer I confesse to be,
Much rather then the Iudger of thy skill:
Art makes not Poetry, thou dost plainly proue,
But supernaturall bountie from aboue.

Iohn Dauis.

IX.—John Speed.

[_]

From ‘The Theatre of the Empire of Great Britaine:’ 1627–31 edition.

To the right well deseruing Mr. Iohn Speed, the Author of this Worke.

In this BOOKE, (Bibliothec, or Booke of Bookes;
TIMES Library, PLACES Geographie)
All that is shewne for which the curious lookes
Touching this LAND, for Place, or Historie.

In which, thou hast with paine, with care, and skill,
Surueid this LAND more neere then ere it was:
For which, thy Wit thou strain'd hast to thy Will,
That wils as much as Wit can bring to passe.

The faire Hibernia, that Westerne Isle likewise,
In euery Member, Artire, Nerue, and Veyne,
Thou by thine Art dost so Anatomize,
That all may see each parcell without paine.

There Time, and Place, like friendly foes doo warre
Which should shew most desir'd Particulars;
But Place giues place, sith Time is greater farre,
Yet Place, well rang'd, gets glory by these warres.

No helps thou hadst, nor no assisting ayde
In this attempt: but, Vertue gaue thee might
That well to doe, that well thou hast assaid,
Which shall (in grace) out-like immortall spight.

Hadst thou among the Romanes liu'd when they
Did signiorize the World; a Signiory
Should then (at least) haue guerdon'd thy Suruey,
Thy Mappes, Descriptions, and thine Historie.

But, thou dost liue when all Arts saue the eight
(Illiberal-liberall Arte) a begging goe;
That Art alone, with her true friend Deceipt,
Gets all; then all seekes but that Arte to know.

But, by thy Art though nought be purchased
But emptie Fame (that feedes, but fattens not)
Yet shall it feede thy NAME till DEATH be dead;
While emptie noble Names away shall rot.

The Leaues this Booke contains, & Maps here grau'n,
Are still as Feathers to thy Fames fayre Wings,
To fanne fresh Ayre vpon the face of Heauen;
And raise the same aboue all ending Things:
That when Confusion wracks this double FRAME,
A Spirit shall moue on CHAOS called thy Fame.

The vnfained louer of thy Person, Io. Davies.

Trauell.

Adulation.

X.—Thomas Ravenscroft.

[_]

From a ‘Briefe Discovrse.’ 1614.

In the most iust praise of Musicke, this praise-worthy Worke, and my deare, vertuous and right expert friend, the most iudicious Author.

The ten-fold Orbes of Heauen are said to moue
By Musicke; for they make, Harmonious din:
And all the Powres subordinate aboue
Spend Time, nay, spend Æternity therein.

If Musicke then, moue all that All doth moue;
That's not compriz'd in ALL that spights her State:
If not in ALL, it's nought; which who doth loue
is worse then nought, to loue what Heau'n doth hate:

For, NOVGHT is nothing; sith it was not made
By that great WORD, without which made was nought:
Then, if that nought but NOVGHT doe her inuade,
Like God, her goodnesse is surmounting THOVGHT.

But no man is so ill that hath no good;
So, no man in the Abstract can be nought:
Then 'tis no man that hates sweete Musickes moode,
But Some-thing worse then all that can be thought.

A Beast? O no: A Monster? neither. Then
Is it a Deuill? Nothing lesse: for, these
Haue Beings with an Angell, or a Man;
But that exists not, that sweete Notes displease.

FORMES, Essence giue to Man, Beast, Fish, & Fowle;
Then Men WERE not, had they no Soule (their Forme)
But Musickes haters haue no Forme, nor Soule:
So, they (like Sinne) exist but to enorme,

For, had they Soules produc't in Harmony,
Or rather Art it selfe (some Wise auouch)
They would he rauisht with her Suauity.
And turn'd Cælestiall with her Heauenly Touch!

But, let them goe as more than mortall Sinne
'Gainst Wisedomes Spirit, not to be forgiuen:
While thou dost wooe the Soules, which thou dost winne
With thy Sweet Notes (deere Friend) to mind but Heau'n.

Thy Nature, Manners, and thy Notes doe make
A Three-fold Cord, to drawe all hearts it gaines:
Thy Musickes Cordes hold Eares and Eyes awake
(Yet lullaby in pleasure) with their Straines.

So, then this latter Musicke (though alone)
'Twixt Fame and Thee doth make an Vnison,
Through which consent, though Deaths clouds thee o'rerun
Thy glory still shall shine, and cloud the Sun.

Io: Dauies. Heref:

XI.—Captain John Smith.

[_]

From ‘Description of New England.’ 1616.

In the deserued Honour of the Author, Captaine Iohn Smith, and his Worke.

Damn'd Enuie is a sp'rite, that euer haunts
Beasts, mis-nam'd Men; Cowards, or Ignorants.
But onely such shee followes, whose deere Worth
(Maugre her malice) gets their glorie forth.

If this faire Ouerture, then, take not; It
Is Enuie's spight (dear friend) in men-of-wit;
Or Feare, lest morsels, which our mouthes possesse,
Might fall from thence; or else tis Sottishnesse.

If either; (I hope neither) thee they raise;
Thy Letters are as Letters in thy praise;
Who, by their Vice, improue (when they reprooue)
Thy vertue; so, in hate, procure thee Loue.
Then, On firme Worth: this Monument I frame;
Scorning for any Smith to forge such Fame.

Io: Dauies, Heref:

Hinderers.

XII.—Queen Elizabeth.

[_]

From under the copper-plate portrait of Queen Elizabeth: ‘Elizabetha Regina. Nic. Hillyard delin: et. excud. privilegio Maiest. Are to be Sould at the Angell in Lumbard Streate. By Roger Daniell. F. D. Sculpt.’ (In British Museum Print-Room.)

[Lo here her Type who was of late, the Propp]

Lo here her Type who was of late, the Propp
of Belgia, Stay of France:
Spaines Foyle, Faiths Shield, and Queene of
STATE; of Armes and Learning; Fate and Chance:
In briefe, of women, nere was seene, so
greate a Prince, so good a Queene.

Jo: Davies, Heref.

XIII.—Captain John Smith.

[_]

From under ‘The Portraictuer of Captayne Iohn Smith, Admirall of New England’ on the map of New England, engraved by Simon Passe in ‘A Description of New England,’ 1616.

[These are the Lines that shew thy Face; but those]

These are the Lines that shew thy Face; but those
That shew thy Grace and Glory, brighter bee:
Thy Faire-Discoueries and Fowle-Overthrowes
Of Salvages, much Civilliz'd by thee,
Best shew thy Spirit; and to it Glory Wyn;
So, thou art Brasse without, but Golde within.
If so; in Brasse, too soft Smiths Acts to beare,
I fix thy Fame, to make Brasse Steele out weare.

Thine, as thou art Virtues, John Davies. Heref:

Additions to Commendatory Poems.

I.—THOMAS CORYAT: 1611.

Jncipit Ioannes Dauis Herefordiensis

In the lowd, alowd, or well deserued renowne of our Britaine-Vlysses: his present worke, together with a description of the particulars of the Vinet, Title-page, or Frontispiece.

If Art, that oft the learn'd hath stammered,
In one

Because like Yron it is strong to containe the remembrance of so many deere Obseruations.

Yron head-peece (yet no hammer-head)
May (ioyn'd with Nature) hit Fame on the

A metaphore for the head.

Cockscombe;
Then, tis that Head-p ece that is crown'd, with

Crownd together with Odcombe for producing him.

Odcombe:
For, he hard Head (and hard, sith like a Whetstone
It giues wits edge, and drawes them too like Ietstone)
Is Caput mundi for a world of schoole-tricks,
And is not ignorant in the learned'st-tricks.
H' hath seene much more then much, I assure yee,
And will see New-Troy, Bethlem, and Old-Iurie:
Meane while (to giue a Taste of his first trauell,
With streames of Rhetoricke that get Golden-grauell)
He tels how he to Venice once did wander;
From whence he came

The word (more) for the reason of excellency: and Gander for the Rimes necessity.

more witty then a Gander:
Whereby he makes relations of such wonders,
That Truth therein doth lighten, while Art thunders.
All Tongues fled to him that at Babell swerued,
Lest they for want of warme Mouthes might haue sterued:
Where they doe reuell in such Passing-measure,
(Especially the Greeke wherein's his pleasure)
That (Iouially) so Greeke, he takes the

He pleasantly preserues it in pristine purity.

guard of
That hee's the merriest Greeke that ere was heard of:
For, he as t'were his Mother's Twittle-twattle
(That's Mother-tongue) the Greeke can prittle prattle.
Nay, of that Tongue he so hath got the Body,
That he sports with it at Ruffe, Gleeke, or

Games at Cards, whereby is meant all manner of sports.

Noddy.

For his Inuention, in his Bookes rare

The Frontispice grauen in brasse.

Brass-face
Is seene the glory of it, that doth passe

Excels the grace of all other forefronts or Titlepages.

Grace.
The

The first shewes how he sailed out of England in a ship.

first doth shew how in a shippe he sailed,
When out of England he (go-ing) tra-uailed:
For, as he notes him selfe (and right well noteth)
No man goes out of England but he boateth:
Where he (halfe ore board) spralleth like a Paddocke;
And spues into a

Whale by the figure Hyperbole, or rather Meiosis.

Whale's mouth called a Haddocke.
Right o're gainst it, there is seene

The second shewes his ouerworne apparrell in his trauell.

th'Apparrell
Which he did weare when he found out the Barrell
Of Heydelberg: shoes, stockings, hose, and dublet,
With so much of his blood as fils a goblet.
Dropping in Creepers from his Trauels Trophie;
Lice Ile not stile them, lest you should cry, ô fie.
But, that which is most wondrous to consider
Is, one so leane so long, should be their feeder:
And that the Clothes which he went out withall, too
Should serue him and the Lice (which were not small) too
Till his returne, with but a little patching,
When's Rags (like catch-polles) greedy were in catching:
So, like an Israelite in Desert wast-land,
His

His clothes wch like weeds were now good for nothing but to be throwne away.

Weedes held out till he had fully trac't-land:
And for a Monument to After-coommers
Their Picture shall continue (though Time

Canker or rust the Brasse whereon it is grauen.

scummers
Vpon th'Effigie to make Eyes delighted
With that which by no Art can be more sprighted;
And shew the maruell of this

Because they hold out (as it were) supernaturally.

Metaphysicke,
That would haue fil'd some Trau'ller with the

Going so bare.

Tyssicke.
And so t'would him haue done, but that his Senses:
Were

Desire of glory made his mind not feele what his body felt.

senslesse in pursuit of Excellences.

Then (from that Trophey to descend a little)
Yee see when he his Gorge with

The third shewes how he fed vpon the Boores grapes without leaue.

Grapes did vittle,
Was out-rag'd by a Boore, who did abhorre it,
Till Tullies golden sentences paid for it
Disburs'd by Coryats Tongue; which so did trolle it
That Cicero him selfe could not controlle it:
Which fill'd the Boore with wonder to the Wozen,
That made him vomit sweet wordes by the dozen
In Toms deare praise; while he most like a Wag-with
Tooke of his Grapes as much as he could wag-with.

Then yee descend, where he sits in a

The fourth shewes his suruayng of Venice in a Gondola.

Gondolow
With Egs throwne at him by a wanton Room-be-low;
Who lookes so masculine as shee were some Boy,
Playing the pleasant Tomboy with her Tom-boy.
Within which Egs was sweetest water powred,
That he to her might thereby be allured:
Which shewes the manner how he went in Venice,
When as hee tooke surueigh of that strange Sea-peece.

Then doe yee fall vpon a goodly

The fifth, a goodly woman representing Italie.

Woman,
Which, for her stature, you would take for some man
Drest in th'Italian fashion, and doth stand for
Faire Italie it selfe, and so is scand for:
Who on the one side serues for a supporter
Of that long

An Ouall round wherein hee is pictured to the wast.

Round, wherein he is made shorter

By halfe (at least) then his length naturall,
And lookes as if he danc'd a Caterbrall;
With Ruffe about his necke set on so finely,
That you would sweare he nothing doth supinely.

On th'other side the Round, stands one as tall too,
Drest like a French-fem, in a farthingall too,
Vpholding (as the other did) the Rundle;
Whose clothes, about the Bumme, tuckt like a bundle,
Doe make her stand for France; and so shee may well,
For she hath Stuffe to make her Doo and say well.

Then, ô ascend, before your last ascending,
And looke on that that's farre aboue commending;
A dainty

The sixth a woman ore his head with the tunne of Heydelberg on hirs, casting vpon him, representing Germanie.

Dame (not dainty of her vomit)
Powres downe vpon him (like a blazing-commet)
The streame of her aboundance from her Gullet,
And hits him on the

A familiar name for the head.

Noddle, like a Bullet;
From whence it glanceth all those Fruits to water
That in his way he gather'd like a Cater;
Which Damsell, with her free ebriety,
Doth lie, or sit, or stand for Germany.
Vpon her head shee weares (beneath it smirking)
Of Heydelbergs the fore-remembred

By the figure Tapinosis.

Firkin.
This, this is it that's Creame of all Inuention,
And farre surmounts the milke of wits intention.

Then vaile your Eye againe that is aspiring,
And see the

The seuenth the horse he sometimes vsed in his trauell.

Horse and Cart he had for tyring.
On one side stands (below) an Horse, or Hobby
Or Hobby-horse (I mean no Hawlke cal'd Hobby)
Sadled and bridled ready for his trauell,
When he his owne feet spurgald had with grauell:

On th'other side the

The eight, the Picardicall Cart he trauelled in.

Picardinian Chariot
Which some call Cart (that

That is, conueyed him from place to place.

carted wandring Coryat)
Whence, if we looke vp, first our eye is meeting.
How Coryate from the

The ninth shewes how he fled from the Iew lest he should have circumcised him.

Iew is Gentilly fleeting,
Lest if he staid he should be made a Præpuce:
And so of men, the only womans Refuse.

From whence looke vp, and next shall your beholders
See Coryate carryed on the Atlas sholders
Of such strong

The tenth, shewes how he was carryed in a chaire ouer or on the Alpes.

Porters as doe helpe men ouer
The Alpes, within a Chaire without a couer:
All which (exprest so farre past wits regality)
Doe shew the pow'r of Coryats singularity.

Then, on the top, but yet without the Vinet,
He lyeth at the heeles of many a

The eleuēth shewes how he lay on litter at the horse heels in the stable of some Inne.

Ginnet
As then in stable stoode on points of litter,
To shew his lodging was as hard as bitter:
For, both together he (most senslesse) feeles there,
And so on litter lyes he by the

Horse heeles.

heeles there.

Right or'e against these proude braue Spanish stallions
Is seene how he doth begge of Theeues

The twelfth and last, shewes how he begg'd of Italian Theeues, lest they should haue robb'd him.

Italians,
With cap in hand, and lowly genuflexion,
Lest they should sincke him till the Resurrection:
So, shun'd the fatall handes of the Banditie
With wit that lackt not all of most almightie.

Hold Muse, no more, vnlesse thou wilt be martyr'd
Within his world of fame that ne're was quarterd:
For, if thou seek'st in numbers to containe it,
T'will make thy browes sweate, and thy nose to raine it.
But though we cannot in this Frontispice
Number thy Stations, yet may we count-thy-lice;
Which (Tom) from one that (roauing) had no refuge,
Drop downe, to make the Glories flood a Delvge.
Within which Flood my Muse (like a Diudapper,
In Fame's wide mouth wagging my Pen, her clapper)
Is so ore-whelm'd, that as shee striues for more breath,
The Flood engulphes her, and her wordes deuoureth.
So fare well Tom (shee saies) great Natures wonder,
I lye thy fame a thouzand fathoms vnder:
For, it preuailes aboue the Alpes (high Mountaines!)
But when it ebbes, Ile spring in Castall Fountaines.
All to bewet the earth with streames of praises
Running to none but thee in fluent Phrases;
Vntill I make a second Inundation,
To wash thy purest fames

Alluding to that loue which men bore to women in the old world, sith like loue our Author beares to men; for whose loue and commodity he hath put himselfe to this cost and pains.

Coinquination
And make it fit for finall

Burning in flames of glory and wonder, as in the iudgement-day.

Conflagration;
So to preuent fell Enuies indignation.

Explicit Ioannes Dauis Herefordiensis.

II.—JOSHUA SYLVESTER.

OF THE WORK, AUTHOUR, AND TRANSLATOR.

Lo here a Monument admir'd of all
That weigh the compass, weight, and height of it;
O'r-topping Envie's clouds, and ever shall
Sith built by deepest Art, and highest Wit.

The Base that bears it, is the Word that stands
True Ground of highest glorie, truth, and grace:
The Building rear'd by two rare heads and hands
(Divinely holp) to glorifie that Base.

Here French and English, joyne in friendly fight
(On even Ground) to prove their utmost power;
Who shew such equall Skill, and equall Might,
That hard it is to say who's conqueror.

But, English bound to foot it like the French
And offer nought, but what shall like her foe,
It is as glorious seld to take a Wrench,
As being free, to give an overthrow.

If French to English were so strictly bound,
It would but passing lamely strive with it;
And soon be forc't to lose both grace and ground,
Although they strave with equall Skill and Wit.

Besides, all Prose is easier to translate
Then Verse; and easier low, then lofty Lines:
Then, these Lines, reaching to the top of State
Are hard'st of all: yet none of all declines.

O faire Translation then, with smoothéd face,
Goe forth to' allure Time's Turns, to turn Thee o'r:
So shall they in thy folds unfold thy grace;
And grace thee with Fame's glory more and more.

Ovid me.

Hee, that churn'd the Cream of Poetry,
To honied Butter, that the Muses feeds,

Divinéd truly, it should never die;
Then, what shall This, that far the same exceeds?

Hee labour'd Lines, wch though they doe endure
All turns of Time, yet was their stuf profane:
But these are drawn of Stuf more heav'nly pure,
That most shall shine; when those are in the wane.

Hee, though his Braines (profanely) were divine,
And glorious Monuments of art compos'd,
Was yet exil'd for many a looser Line,
That made them wantons, chastely else dispos'd:

But, thou (clear Bartas, his dear Sylvester,
Whose Lines do lead to Vertues only gaine,
And with sweet Poesies strew'st the way to her)
How should the World remunerate thy paine?

And, if from heart's aboundance tongues do speak;
And what we most affect, wee most doe minde:
It argues, thou this Argument didst seek;
Sith, in thy Soule before, thou didst it finde.

So, Bartas was but Mid-wife to thy Muse,
With greater ease to utter her Conceits;
For whose dear birth, thou didst all ease refuse,
World's-weale, and (being a Merchant) thy Receits.

This pain so pleas'd thy labouring Thoughts, that thou
Forsook'st the Sea, and took'st thee to the Soile,
Where (from thy royall Trade,) thou fell'st to plow
Art's furrows with thy Pen, that yeeld but toyl.

This stole thee from thy selfe, thy selfe to finde
In sacred Raptures on the Muses' Hill:
And, went'st out of thy Body with thy Minde,
More freely so, to use thy Wit and Will.

And (O!) how haplesse had wee Britains been
(Sith here is stor'd such sweet Soule-ravishments)
Hadst thou not made them to us clearly seen:
Who give thee for it praising Discontents?

If so great Art and Grace, finde nought but fame
Of famous Men for grace; the Presse shall be
Prest but for Vice's Service (Source of shame).
So Times to come, in Print our shame shall see.

But O! be't far from this so famous Isle
For Armes and Learning, either to neglect;
Sith it doth grace and glorie quite exile,
And is the cause of many a bad effect.

O terrene Gods, as yee to State aspire,
Lift Learning up with you; especially
If matcht with Wisedome, and divine desire:
So shall yee twice be like the Deity.

And, weigh what pow'r the Pens of such possesse
(Of such; for others will but gild your Crimes)
Their Pens eternise can your worthinesse:
And make yee glorious, past succeeding Times.

But you doe justly to neglect and scorn
The curséd crue, that doe the Muse abuse:
For, they your praises to dispraises turn;
As Vice, in praising Vertue's grace, doth use.

Their wine-driv'n brains, involv'd in follie's cloud,
Fly here, and there (and where not?) with a trice:
And, though both beggars base, yet passing proud;
Constant in nothing but inconstant Vice:

Making loose lines (forsooth) their Scala Cœli,
A Taverne for a Temple to adore;
Their onely god, their guts, their beastly Belly,
To whom they offer all their slender Store.

The Lands of such, are odious like their Lives:
They (Pitch) pollute what-ere they doe but touch;
Whose glory to the foulest shame arrives:
Then, well you fence your fame to keep off such.

But they whose lives, and lauds, and lines are Source
Of Moral vertue, running by each stone
(Men high, and hard, that let them in their Course)
To Seas of glory, like clear Helicon;

O! these ye should support, and still receive
Into the Ocean of your bound-lesse love:
For these (like truest Friends) will take, and give
No more but what true Vertue shall approve.

If these should pine away through your neglect,
Your memories shall dye, or live with shame;
Sith such a Muse is the chiefe Architect,
To reare, from Earth to Heav'n, a lasting Name.

Achilles' fame, with him, had been interr'd,
Had Homer's lines not ty'd it to the Stars:
And, of Æneas wee had never heard,
Had Virgil's Strains not been his Trumpeters.

One of the Nine had bin our Warwick's Guy,
(The Nine, whose worth all Times so much commend;)
And so disrankt great Bullen's Godfery
Had hee but had a Tasso for his friend.

Laura had ne're so greenly growne above
Her Peers, as now she doth, to after-times,
Had she not had a Petrarch to her Love;
Which made her mount, with Nectar-dropping Rimes.

No, no: ye cannot but out-live your Fame,
If ye uphold not Fame's best Notaries:
If these ye scorne, your glory is but game;
For, when ye die, in game your glory dies.

And, though blest Peace hath turn'd our Spears to spades,
Let it not turn our pens to ploughs, or worse;
By Learning some should live as some by Trades,
In blesséd States, that would incurre no curse.

Where Vertue is not rais'd, and Vice supprest,
There all to Vice will run; and so to wrack:
For, there the worst shall Lord it ore the best;
And where that is, all goes to utter sack.

Reward, and Punishment (like Armes of Steel)
Doe still uphold each King-upholding State:
For, neither wants, but it begins to reel;
But, both imploy'd, stands sure in spight of Hate.

Then may thy Hopes, wing'd by thy vertuous Muse,
Dear Sylvester, expect some cherishment,
In this blest State; that still those Armes will use,
To stay her Grace, and grace her Government:
But, if thy paines acquire but pure renowne,
Thou art Christ's Image, crost for Glorious crown.

Beneficium dando accipit, qui digno dedit.

The unfained lover of thine Art, honesty, and vertue, John Davies of Hereford.

FINIS.