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The works of Sr William Davenant

... Consisting of Those which were formerly Printed, and Those which he design'd for the Press: Now published Out of the Authors Originall Copies
  

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To my Friend, William D'avenant.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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To my Friend, William D'avenant.

I crowded 'mongst the first, to see the Stage
(Inspir'd by thee) strike wonder in our Age,
By thy bright fancie dazled; Where each Sceane
Wrought like a charme, and forc't the Audience leane
To th' passion of thy Pen: Thence Ladies went
(Whose absence Lovers sigh'd for) to repent

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There unkinde scorne; And Countries who by art
Made love before, with a converted heart,
To wed those Virgins, whom they woo'd t' abuse:
Both rendred Hymen's pros'lits by thy Muse.
But others who were proofe 'gainst Love, did sit
To learn the subtile Dictates of thy Wit;
And as each profited, took his degree,
Master, or Batchelor, in Comedie.
Who on the Stage, though since they venter'd not
Yet on some Lord, or Lady, had their plot
Of gaine, or favor: Ev'ry nimble jest
They speak of thine, b'ing th' entrance to a Feast,
Or nearer whisper: Most thought fit to be
So far concluded Wits, as they knew thee.
But here the Stage thy limit was. Kings may
Find proud ambition humbled at the Sea,
Which bounds dominion: But the nobler flight
Of Poesie, hath a supreamer right
To Empire, and extends her large command
Where ere th'invading Sea assaults the land.
Ev'n Madagascar (which so oft hath been
Like a proud Virgin tempted, yet still seen
Th' Enemy Court the Wind for flight) doth lie
A trophie now of thy Wits Victorie:
Nor yet disdains destruction to her state,
Encompast with thy Laurel in her fate.
William Habington.