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The Lady-Errant

A Tragi-Comedy
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Upon the Incomparable Poems of Mr William Cartvvright late Student of Christ Church in Oxford.
  
  
  
  
  

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Upon the Incomparable Poems of Mr William Cartvvright late Student of Christ Church in Oxford.

Not that Thy perfect Verse does need my praise,
Nor can I add one leaf unto Thy Bays?
The Beauty of Thy Muse admits no stain
To set Her off, Her Colours are in Grain,
All pure and Clean; So that what e'r might be
A Foyl elsewhere, a Blemish were to Thee.
Nor do we write to make thy Volume swell
Hir'd by the Stationer, that it might sell
The better for its Bulk, who so doth see
The Title Page, and that 'twas writ by Thee.
Will not his Judgement forfeit so to doubt
There can be a defect, or ought left out.
Thy eeven Numbers with such weight express
Themselves, and yet in such an open dress
That every one that reads will think th' were writ
Only for the Meridian of his Wit:
The humorous Courtier and the Scholar may
Now jointly read, and both like the same Play;
And meerly for their Credits sake, confess
That no man could say more, nor Thou say less;
Hence then with one consent this suffrage bring,
Cartvvright could only make a Slave, a King.
No such distinction here, that one from thence
May say in this Line's Fansie, in that, Sense,
But both so mixt, Nature so link'd with Art,
Like the same Soul, they're wholly in each part:
Thus shall thy Poems live (Blest Shade) and Fame
After Thy Ashes, celebrate Thy Name.
R. Hill.