 | The Royall Master |  |
To the much honoured, Iames Shirley upon his Royall Master.
Let no man thinke, I hither coldly cameOn purpose to commend, or to seeke fame
By this impression, that the world may say,
What is this Iackson that commends the play?
Though tis a grace, to stand as Courtiers use
To usher in the reader to thy Muse,
Yet by the way, Ile tell him I have read
The Lawes of Flaccus with a serious head,
And that according to those statutes there
(Never to be repeal'd) thy Poems are,
Thy discreete stile is elegantly plaine,
In Sock and Buskin, proper to each veine
Of Time, Place, Person, and that all thy wit
Is not by chance but regularly writ;
Nor dost thou gall the Theater, we may
Be acted every man, yet see thy Play
Invisible, so curious is thy Pen
Which can at once, wound heale, and better men,
Therefore will I hereafter cease to mourne:
For those great wits, commended to the Vrne,
And if't be true, that transmigrations be
They are in Shirley all, for ought I see.
Iohn Iacson.
| The Royall Master | |