The Lady-Errant A Tragi-Comedy |
To the Stationer (Mr Moseley) on his Printing
Mr Cartvvright's Poems.
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 | The Lady-Errant |  |
To the Stationer (Mr Moseley) on his Printing Mr Cartvvright's Poems.
I that
have undergone the common Fate
In making shift to lose my own Estate,
Have felt that which did Thousands more befall,
Thrice in a Siedge, and once in Goldsmiths-Hall;
Return'd with much adoe to my own Clime,
Am now just strong enough to make a Rime:
Not to write Wit, which I pretend not to,
But to admire those Noble Souls that do:
Whose high Atchievments Thou hast brought to light,
Setting forth Wits who best knew how to write:
Thou rais'd brave Suckling, gav'st him all his own,
Aglaura else had not been waited on:
Then gav'st us melting Carevv, who so long
Maintain'd the Court with many a charming Song:
Then Waller's Muse for Saccharissa flows,
Yet (for his Life) courts the High Court in Prose;
Beaumont and Fletcher's Volume then stood forth,
And taught the World what English Wits are Worth:
Then came the Sophy deck'd by Denham's Quill
With Flowers as fresh as those on Coopers Hill:
Then fam'd Nevvcastle's choice Variety,
With his brave Captain held up Poetry:
Then Madagascar fill'd our British Isle
With Love and Honour, wrought by Davenant's file:
Brave Stapylton translates old Wit and new,
Musæus, Juvenal and Strada too:
Then Pastor Fido (cloath'd by Fanshavv's Pen)
Confess'd 'twas never nobly dress'd till then:
So did Aurora and Oronta too,
Whom hopefull Stanley into English drew:
And Sherburn made old Seneca tell why
Knaves oft triumph while Good men smart and dye:
Then flowry Heath made Clarastella known,
Dressing her fine with good wit of his own:
Then learned Crashavv's Muse proves to the eye
Parnassus lower than Mount Calvary:
And among all these shining costly Pearls
Thou left'st not out Sherley, nor Benlowe's Quarls:
All these thou gav'st us, rich and precious stuff,
And one would think that here was Wit enough.
In making shift to lose my own Estate,
Have felt that which did Thousands more befall,
Thrice in a Siedge, and once in Goldsmiths-Hall;
Return'd with much adoe to my own Clime,
Am now just strong enough to make a Rime:
Not to write Wit, which I pretend not to,
But to admire those Noble Souls that do:
Whose high Atchievments Thou hast brought to light,
Setting forth Wits who best knew how to write:
Thou rais'd brave Suckling, gav'st him all his own,
Aglaura else had not been waited on:
Then gav'st us melting Carevv, who so long
Maintain'd the Court with many a charming Song:
Then Waller's Muse for Saccharissa flows,
Yet (for his Life) courts the High Court in Prose;
Beaumont and Fletcher's Volume then stood forth,
And taught the World what English Wits are Worth:
Then came the Sophy deck'd by Denham's Quill
With Flowers as fresh as those on Coopers Hill:
Then fam'd Nevvcastle's choice Variety,
With his brave Captain held up Poetry:
Then Madagascar fill'd our British Isle
With Love and Honour, wrought by Davenant's file:
Brave Stapylton translates old Wit and new,
Musæus, Juvenal and Strada too:
Then Pastor Fido (cloath'd by Fanshavv's Pen)
Confess'd 'twas never nobly dress'd till then:
So did Aurora and Oronta too,
Whom hopefull Stanley into English drew:
Knaves oft triumph while Good men smart and dye:
Then flowry Heath made Clarastella known,
Dressing her fine with good wit of his own:
Then learned Crashavv's Muse proves to the eye
Parnassus lower than Mount Calvary:
And among all these shining costly Pearls
Thou left'st not out Sherley, nor Benlowe's Quarls:
All these thou gav'st us, rich and precious stuff,
And one would think that here was Wit enough.
But after all, thou bringst up in the Reare
One that fills ev'ry Eye, and ev'ry Eare,
Cartvvright, rare Cartvvright, to whom all must bow,
That was best Preacher and best Poet too;
Whose learned Phansie never was at rest,
But always labouring, yet labour'd least:
His Wit's Immortall, and shall honour have
While there's or Slavish Lord or Royall Slave.
One that fills ev'ry Eye, and ev'ry Eare,
Cartvvright, rare Cartvvright, to whom all must bow,
That was best Preacher and best Poet too;
Whose learned Phansie never was at rest,
But always labouring, yet labour'd least:
His Wit's Immortall, and shall honour have
While there's or Slavish Lord or Royall Slave.
And since thy hand is in, gather up all
Those precious Lines which brave Wits have let fall;
Gather up all that from Mayne's fansy fell,
Whose able Muse hath done so oft so well:
Give us all Cleveland, all his gallant lines,
Whose Phansie still in strong Expressions shines:
Give us all Berkenhead whose soul can more
In half an hour than others in four score:
Give us what Covvley's later years brought forth,
His Mistresse shews he was a Wit by birth:
Give us our Northern Vincent, and our Brovvn,
Who are true Wits though not so publike known:
Give us all these, and all omitted here,
For times approach wherein Wit will be dear.
So, as poor folkes delight to talk of wealth,
I name good Wits, though I am none my self.
Those precious Lines which brave Wits have let fall;
Gather up all that from Mayne's fansy fell,
Whose able Muse hath done so oft so well:
Give us all Cleveland, all his gallant lines,
Whose Phansie still in strong Expressions shines:
Give us all Berkenhead whose soul can more
In half an hour than others in four score:
Give us what Covvley's later years brought forth,
His Mistresse shews he was a Wit by birth:
Give us our Northern Vincent, and our Brovvn,
Who are true Wits though not so publike known:
Give us all these, and all omitted here,
For times approach wherein Wit will be dear.
So, as poor folkes delight to talk of wealth,
I name good Wits, though I am none my self.
Jo. Leigh, Esquire.
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