 | The Royall Master |  |
On M. James Shirley his Royall Master.
There are some men doe hold, there is a placeCal'd Limbus Patrum, if such have the grace
To wave that Schisme, and Poëtarum said
They of that faith had me a member made,
That Limbus I could have beleev'd thy braine
Where Beamont, Fletcher, Shakespeare, & a traine
Of glorious Poets in their active heate
Move in that Orbe, as in their former seate.
When thou began'st to give thy Master life,
Me thought I saw them all, with friendly strife
Each casting in his dose, Beamont his weight,
Shakespeare his mirth, and Fletcher his conceit,
With many more ingredients, with thy skill
So sweetely tempered, that the envious quill
And tongue of Critricks must both write and say,
They never yet beheld a smoother Play.
Iames Mervyn.
| The Royall Master | |