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Comedies, Tragi-comedies, With other Poems

by Mr William Cartwright ... The Ayres and Songs set by Mr Henry Lawes

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On the Birth of the Duke of York.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


197

On the Birth of the Duke of York.

The State is now past fear, and all that we
Need wish besides is perpetuity.
No gaudy traine of flames, no darkned Sun,
No Change inverting Order did forerun
This Birth, No hurtless Natalitious fire
Playing about him made the Nurse admire,
And Prophesie. Fond Nature shews these things
When Thraldom swels, when Bondmaids bring forth Kings.
And 'tis no favour: for She straight give o'r
Paying these trifles, that She ow no more.
Here Shee's reserv'd, and quiet, as if He
Were her Design, her Plot, her Policy:
Here the enquiring busie Common Eye
Only intent upon New Majesty,
Ne'r looks for further wonder, this alone
Being sufficient, that Hee's silent shewn.
What's Her intent I know not: let it be
My pray'r, that Shee'l be modest, and that He
Have but the second Honour, be still neer;
No imitation of the Father here.
Yet let him, like to him, make power as free
From Blot or Scandall as from Poverty:
Count Bloud and Birth no parts, but something lent
Meerly for outward Grace and Complement;
Get safety by good Life, and raise defence
By better forces, Love and Conscience.
This likewise we expect; the Nurse may find
Something in Shape, wee'l look unto his Mind.

198

The Forehead, Eye, and Lip, poor humble Parts
Too shallow for resemblance, shew the Arts
Of private guessings; Action still hath been
The Royall Mark; Those Parts, which are not seen,
Present the Throne, and Scepter; and the right
Discoverie's made by Judgment, not by Sight.
I cannot to this Cradle promise make
Of Actions fit for growth. A strangled Snake,
Kill'd before known, perhaps 'mongst Heathen hath
Been thought the deed and valour of the Swath.
Far be such Monsters hence; the Buckler here
Is not the Cradle, nor the Dart and Spear
The Infants Rattles; 'tis a Son of Mirth,
Of Peace and Friendship, 'tis a quiet Birth;
Yet if hereafter unfil'd People shall
Call on his Sword, and so provoke their fall,
Let him look bak on that admired Name,
That Spirit of Dispatch, that Soul of Fame,
His Grandfire Henry, tread his steps, in all
Be fully like to him, except his fall.
Although in Royall Births, the Subjects Lot
Be to enjoy what's by the Prince begot;
Yet fasten, Charles, fasten those Eyes you ow
Unto a People, on this Son, to shew
You can be tender too, in this one thing
Suffer the Father to depose the King.
See what delight your Queen takes to peruse
Those fair unspotted Volumes, when She views
In Him that Glance, in Her that decent Grace,
In This sweet Innocence, in All the face
Of both the Parents. May this Blessing prove
A welcome Trouble, puzzling equal Love
How to dispence Embraces, whiles that She
Strives to divide the Mother 'twixt all Three.