University of Virginia Library

On the Workes of Beaumont and Fletcher, now at length printed.

Great paire of Authors, whom one equall Starre
Begot so like in Genius, that you are
In Fame, as well as Writings, both so knit,
That no man knowes where to divide your wit,
Much lesse your praise; you, who had equall fire,
And did each other mutually inspire;
Whether one did contrive, the other write,
Or one fram'd the plot, the other did indite;
Whether one found the matter, th'other dresse,
Or the one disposed what th'other did expresse;
Where e're your parts betweene your selves lay, we,
In all things which you did but one thred see;
So evenly drawne out, so gently spunne,
That Art with Nature nere did smoother run.
Where shall I fixe my praise then? or what part
Of all your numerous Labours hath desert
More to be fam'd then other? shall I say,
I've met a lover so drawne in your Play,
So passionately written, so inflam'd;
So jealously inraged, then gently tam'd,
That I in reading have the Person seene,
And your Pen hath part Stage and Actor been?
Or shall I say, that I can scarce forbeare
To clap, when I a Captain do meet there,
So lively in his owne vaine humour drest,
So braggingly, and like himself exprest,
That moderne Cowards, when they saw him plaid,
Saw, blusht, departed guilty, and betraid?
You wrote all parts right; whatsoe're the Stage
Had from you, was seene there as in the age,
And had their equall life: Vices which were
Manners abroad, did grow corrected there:
They who possest a Box, and halfe Crowne spent
To learne Obscenenes, returned innocent,
And thankt you for this coznage, whose chaste Scene
Taught Loves so noble, so reform'd, so cleane,
That they who brought foule sires, and thither came
To bargaine, went thence with a holy flame.
Be't to your praise too, that your Stock and Veyne
Held both to Tragick and to Comick straine;
Where e're you listed to be high and grave,
No Buskin shew'd more solemne, no quill gave
Such feeling objects to draw teares from eyes,
Spectators sate part in your Tragedies.
And where you lifted to be low, and free,
Mirth turn'd the whole house into Comedy;
So piercing (where you pleas'd) hitting a fault,
That humours from your pen issued all salt.
Nor were you thus in Works and Poems knit,
As to be but two halfes, and make one wit;
But as some things we see, have double cause,
And yet the effect it selfe from both whole drawes;
So though you were thus twisted and combind
As two bodies, to have but one faire minde
Yet if we praise you rightly, we must say
Both joyn'd, and both did wholly make the Play,
For that you could write singly, we may guesse
By the divided peeces which the Presse
Hath severally sent forth; nor were gone so
(Like some our Moderne Authors) made to go
On meerely by the helpe of th'other, who
To purchase fame do come forth one of two;
Nor wrote you so, that one's part was to lick
The other into shape, nor did one stick
The others cold inventions with such wit,
As served like spice, to make them quick and fit;
Nor out of mutuall want, or emptinesse,
Did you conspire to go still twins to th'Presse:
But what thus joyned you wrote, might have come forth
As good from each, and stored with the same worth
That thus united them, you did joyne sense,
In you 'twas League, in others impotence;
And the Presse which both thus amongst us sends,
Sends us one Poet in a paire of friends.